#You: Extra formatting fancyness

[immovable-force-archive]

[ Honk @ Kew ] "'M sick," Hank informed, not moving to get up. "Which means we're gonna stay here all day - what, do devils not get sick?"

“Oh.” Kew thought somethin’ felt off, physically. Almost wondered if they were somehow hungover, like they managed to accidentally get drunk and didn’t remember. It almost lightens his mood though, knowing they’d just be hangin’ out in bed all day. How they were gonna eat or feed Sumo, Kew had no idea, but it sounded like Hank knew what he was doing. Wasn’t panicking, at least… Hm.

“No, they do,” he assures. “I got sick all the time. Should'a been more afraid ‘a someone sneezin’ on me than tryin’ to punch me, heh. Fuckin’ hemocolds. That what this is?” It didn’t feel nearly severe enough to be a hemocold– Hank would’a been coughing up blood by now– but those were the most common back home. Maybe that’s just a thing in the Realm of the Dead, and humans don’t have those! Fuck, wouldn’t that be great? Somethin’ working out in Kew’s favor for once! No more worrying about getting screwed over by his shit-ass blood, and–!

… Fuck, wait a minute. Hank has devil blood now– Kew’s type, D1. He didn’t get Kew’s shitty immune-system too, did he? It’s not his fault Hank’s sick now, right?

“… Er…” No, don’t bring it up, idiot! “Uh– Nevermind!”