Another person sighed, a rather frustrated sound.
Seymour was on the floor of a swanky bedroom with shag carpets, red neons, and a bed shaped like a heart with mirrors hanging on the ceiling above.
In the middle of the bed was the blue-haired dancer he’d seen earlier, but he was now on all fours with what appeared to be a Minotaur behind him frozen mid-thrust.
It was the dancer who had sighed, and he stared at Seymour with a bored frown. He was somehow completely unbothered by a stranger bursting quite literally through the wall while in the middle of being pounded by a giant mythological creature.
The Minotaur beast, however, screamed again.
The blue-haired man rolled his eyes.
Seymour pulled himself into a sitting position, finally able to breathe out a miserable groan. He was confident being in a car accident would have hurt less than this, and he tried to get his bearings.
Through the Seymour-sized hole in the wall, he saw flashes of golden light and blood splattering. He also heard horrible wailing and the dull thud of bones crunching.
So, Day and Sariel were probably all right.
The Minotaur left the blue-haired man, sobbing now as he scrambled to gather his clothes and flee.
The blue-haired man shouted after him, “You’re not getting a refund!”
“Uh.” Seymour stumbled to his feet. “Sorry ’bout the trouble, sir.”
The blue-haired man looked Seymour up and down. He grinned coyly. “Oh, no trouble at all, baby.”
“If you’ll, uh, excuse me.” Seymour staggered toward the hole to get back to the fight. His left arm didn’t want to obey his commands, so he let it hang by his side.
Just as Seymour was about to figure out the logistics of crawling through said hole, Pod Lou himself came barreling through it, snarling angrily and swinging wide.
“Fuck!” Seymour escaped a big swipe that would have almost certainly taken his head off. He continued to retreat, looking around desperately for a weapon to defend himself with. He grabbed the first solid object his hand made contact with, and then he swung with all his might at Pod Lou.
Pod Lou let out a confused whine, blinking owlishly at the object Seymour wielded.
Seymour stared too.
It was a neon pink dildo.
Of course.
Why not?
Really wished he’d kept the damn golf club now.
Undeterred by his new weapon of choice, Seymour pushed forward and swung frantically to keep Pod Lou at bay. “Hey, hey! You want some of this, huh? Come on, fucker!”
Pod Lou clocked Seymour right in the side of the head.
Seymour’s vision sparked with stars, and he went careening into the bedside table. It tipped over as he hit the floor, and an assortment of sex toys, lubes, and condoms came flying out of the table’s top drawer.
Pod Lou stalked toward him, snarling.
Seymour grabbed a bottle of lube and hurled it at Pod Lou. Then a dildo. And then a vibrator. More dildos. Any and everything he could reach became a projectile weapon, even the drawer itself when he ran out of sex toys to throw.
Pod Lou swatted most of the items away, though a lucky shot with a full bottle of lube right in the muzzle seemed to rattle him. He blinked a few times and shook his head.
Seymour scrambled for a new weapon.
“Here!” The blue-haired man threw something at Seymour.
