What sounded like a soft sigh hissed from Oleander's mask as they heaved themselves over to Dante's bedside.

"WE FED THE DETECTIVE A CORPSE," they signed, "I RECALL HE HAD SEVERE ANEMIA."

Their hand met Dante's neck again, and their eyes chirped and flashed again. Both hands eventually met again.

"HE IS STABILIZING SLIGHTLY. HIS ANEMIA IS MODERATE. RECOVERY MAY STILL BE SLOW."

--

Matias was stomping his way down the hall when an all-too-familiar, dog-like voice scratched at his eardrums. Crinkling his nose, he stopped right where he was, refusing to turn around.

"I know what you're going to say," he snarled, "and you better keep your damn mouth shut. That's not what I am."