It was open. [i]Again[/i]. Epsilon hissed, grabbing as his oozing wound, the stitching having sagged open near the center. Right at the point where he had gotten lazy. "[color=LightBlue]I'm going to need Sayuri to take care of this,[/color]" he spat, stumbling through his cluttered and near black room, tripping over a chair and nearly ending up opening his wound all the way when the loose stitching snagged on the edge of metal cabinet. "[color=LightBlue]Christ. Shit fucking Christ.[/color]" Epsilon only paused to grab a plastic cup on the table which would be the subject of his new rage. The cup sailed through the air, clattering against one of the metal shelves that lined the opposite side of his room, knocking something else down with it as it fell to the floor.

Epsilon stopped before an open box of medical supplies, is fists balled up at the sight before him. [i]Out of gauze. Out of whisky. Our of bandages. Even out of fucking rags.[/i] He threw the box from the desk, the metallic box clattering on the floor and slamming into the wall. Epsilon dropped into the floor, spilling out of a dark corner by the supply room. He would have jumped directly into the supply room, but in his current state he didn't have the energy to see precisely why there were no particularly large shadows in the typically blacked out room. Someone must have left the light on. He'd deal with them later. When he was able to lay down more of a verbal smack down. Epsilon paused outside of the door, noticing the warmth. "[color=LightBlue]Huh,[/color]" He mumbled, putting the back of his hand on the door. The solid iron door was warm to the touch, usually it was cold like ice. This could be bad.

He opened the door and before him stood a certain girl with raven black hair streaked with sanguine. A girl standing before a puddle of magma. A puddle of magma in the center of the [i]fucking[/i] supplies room. "[i][color=SlateGray]Oh, you,[/color][/i]" Epsilon snarled, the edges of his lips peeling back as his pupils seemed to expand until the whites of his eyes were as black as obsidian. His skin crawled in shade and his body twisted and writhed in a wretched form, black as a moonless night, an emaciated body covered in wicked spines and tendrils that took shape faster than either of them could snap a finger. "[i][color=SlateGray]You're dead.[/color][/i]"