"Suppose I should check up on it." [Flug manages to get to his feet, only to stumble a few times down the hall, each limb taking turns locking up to impair his mobility. It's a rather noisy traipse; miraculously the doctor avoids knocking into anything.]

"At least it's only been three days." [A flick of the switch.] "Any more and it might be harder to work wi--"

[And yet here the oil is. Congealed in a state that would have taken far more than three days to reach. Not impossible to salvage, sure, but the sight stirs the discomfort that has been steadily building in Flug's gut. The sense of something being off he hasn't been able to shake.]

"..We were on the bed." [His memory still feels fuzzy. Why does it feel so fuzzy?]

"We were on the bed and I pulled you in close. And then you… you.....oh my god." [He slowly turns to look back to where the suspicious demon is standing.]

"Oh my God you ate me..?"