“Preferably the knock your ass out kind.”
Killian frowned. “I…I mean…if my memory serves me right, most normal drugs aren’t very effective when used on Gorgons. I’m not sure if we would have any that would help you with the pain. We would have used them by now if we did.”
“It’s not about the pain, it’s—” Ender cut off with a huff, and laid there trying to figure out how to word what he had to say, without giving anything away as to why he actually needed them. But he never got that far because Cyrus and Soren barged in at that exact moment, the two of them arguing.
Cyrus had tried to power walk away from Soren, but surprisingly, the Harpy managed to keep up, despite the man’s shorter stride.
“I wasn’t done talking,” the Harpy squawked.
“Too bad, I’m done listening.”
Soren let out an angry, bird-like chirp. “So, no interest in admitting that your almighty Bureau asses stupidly left your breach point under protected, with the only man watching being a traitorous fuck, who allowed it, and your own engine, to be blown the fuck up?!”
Yeah, that had been a mistake, but… “And your engine just, what? Blew itself up?” he drawled snidely.
“Fuck you!” the Harpy snapped as they reached Ender’s quarters.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too, Fire Bird.”
He nodded to the woman at the door, who had eyed them as they approached, but had quickly and silently stepped out of the way, allowing Cyrus to head inside.
He was unsurprised to find Killian there, but slightly surprised to find Ender awake. Killian’s expression remained neutral, if not a little tired, as they came in, while the Gorgon’s jaw tightened slightly.
The Siren was coatless and shivering. The one he’d been wearing previously was clearly trying and failing to keep the Gorgon warm, as the snake was shaking just as much if not more than the other Cryptid.
Pulling his coat off, Cyrus quickly moved to Killian, wrapping it around the Siren, who thankfully didn’t brush it off, or snap at him—or threaten to kill, maim, or do any of the other various shit he was known to do.
“How stuck are we, Soren?” Ender asked, the man’s yellow-amber gaze oddly intense.
Odder still, the Harpy, who had stayed near the door, seemed to flinch at his own name. “Stuck,” Soren said almost carefully.
Ender tsked. “Well, I was just asking your Siren here, who lovingly woke my ass up with his singing, by the way, what possible drugs you Bureau agents brought with you. You wouldn’t happen to have a list, would you, Grimm?”
Cyrus’ brow pulled, frowning slightly at the question. “I can tell you now, none of what we brought will have any effect on you.”
“Blast it all to Hell!” the Gorgon snapped.
He wrinkled his nose, feeling more than a bit guilty. “We would have used them already if they would have helped.”
“That’s not—UGH!” The man groaned loudly, before wincing in pain.
“I wish we could help more than this, but?—”
Soren cut him off. “Grimm, it’s best you stop talking.”
At the Harpy’s words, he realized Ender’s eyes had fully changed. The pupils were now vertically elongated, and the Gorgon’s hair also looked to be coiling together and thickening, which he could only assume was a warning of Ender’s current mood.
“It’s probably best if you both leave,” the bird stated as he moved closer to the bed.
Cyrus looked to Killian, however, the Siren was looking down at Ender in concern.
“Will you at least let us bring in the heaters now? Heisawake,” Cyrus pointed out.
“No,” both the Harpy and Gorgon said at the same time.
Soren sighed, before explaining, “With it being this cold, as soon as he falls asleep, he will instinctively seek out the closest heat source. Those rigged up heaters we made do not have the protections in place to stop him from burning himself further as he tries to coil around them, which is exactly what he’ll do.”
“You need to get your temperature up, Ender. You feel like ice,” Killian stated. “If we can’t use the heaters, then the next best thing is having someone you are comfortable with share their body heat with you. I imagine one of your crew wouldn’t mind? Soren would probably be the best option, with him being a Harpy?—”
