"Okay, Gimpy." He tipped his head back to stare placidly at the rolling sky, then was distracted for a moment by his reflection in a dark shop window, where something wild and sharp-toothed shimmered dimly at his shoulders. That other demon was roiling sharp and fast in his stomach, and there was a screaming and snarling echo in his head, raw as a chalkboard -- but it was nothing he couldn't fall asleep to. The damp cigarette dropped into a puddle and he loped on, his sharp eyes straight ahead.

"I'm Tzek." His name escaped his teeth like a convict. He grinned. "Not really a name but that's all I've got, can't remember what I was before I was that." He shrugged and let his shoulders drop. "So you can call me Tzek, or you could call me Charlie. I like Charlie, I wouldn't mind it."

He'd walked a good few yards ahead of her before he stopped and thought to look back. She was scuffling along under the dripping streetlights like she'd been hit by a truck. For awhile he simply stared.

"Y'know, if I carry you, we might get to the hospital before you bleed out and die a slow and horrific death." He was completely and utterly serious, in that he doubted very much that she had as much time to kill as she apparently thought she had. "Or I could just wait til you pass out and [i]then[/i] carry you, but I don't know where the hell I'm going, so."