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"Hi," you say narrowly. "Why were you not in line? I told you to stand in—"
"It was a dumb idea. If you would've asked me if it was a dumb idea beforehand, I would've told you." His facial expression hasn't changed. "A lot of things would work out better if you got my input first, honestly."
You fold your arms. "Okay, I don't remember asking. And why the hell are all your <span class="mu-i">beetles</span> out? Did you get a cramp? Everyone's gonna stare at—"
He laughs weirdly. "They're really not."
"Yes they are? You're not even making them look normal, they're just—" You wave broadly around your head. "Are you <span class="mu-i">talking</span> through them? Because your voice sounds weird, and also that makes it worse? You can explain away normal beetles, I <span class="mu-i">guess.</span> But talking—?"
"It doesn't need explaining, Lottie. If I don't pay it any mind, nobody else will." He tucks his hands behind his back. "Does having them out bother you?"
It's not that he's completely talking through the beetles, you think: his mouth is moving. But his voice isn't coming out of it. "No?" you say defensively. "I'm used to them? I just think it's sort of a <span class="mu-i">dumb</span> idea to—"
"It's okay if you're a little bothered. I don't think I ever completely came to terms with it, either." He is <span class="mu-i">still</span> grinning. "I just think it's healthier to be out in the sunshine. Isn't it a nice day?"
Okay, you were giving him the benefit of the doubt, but something is <span class="mu-i">up</span> here. Gil isn't like this. He doesn't talk <span class="mu-i">back</span> to you, he stutters, he isn't <span class="mu-i">cheery,</span> and he doesn't— he doesn't refer to himself in the past tense? Hello? Did it think you wouldn't notice? You glare at the Gil-entity. "Uh-huh. And where have you been, exactly?"
"I've been around," it says.
"Right. Right. Uh-huh." You sidle closer. "And could you take off your glasses real quick? I bet you can't enjoy this nice day fully with those big things on..."
"Sure, Lottie." It exhales and takes off its glasses.
The first thing you notice as you peer into its wavering eyes is that they're badly bloodshot, and you're about to go ballistic on the (clearly foul and evil) entity for making Gil <span class="mu-i">cry</span> when you process the thick blue rings around the pupils. Your throat constricts. Your bile rises. No, you think, before you can't think differently— no no no no no, you do <span class="mu-i">not</span> want to murder Gil, you don't, no matter what kind of <span class="mu-r">F</span>ILTH what kind of ROT seethes in him; you have zero desire to PURGE HIM of whatever it is, and if it couldn't make you murder some random guy why does it think it'll work on Gil? Of course the truth is that (<span class="mu-r">it</span>) doesn't think, only reacts, and as the Gil-entity replaces its glasses and frowns and takes your trembling fist it seethes and foams. When the Gil-entity's big calloused hand enfolds that fist gently it writhes and spits. You take a shuddery inhale.
(3/5?)
