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Jabber returns once his wounds have been taken care of. Chtoni gives him a side glance, but otherwise doesn't say anything. Zodyl has heard her mission report, and now it was Jabber's turn to spill what he had gleaned on his failed task. The young man is so easy to read when his head gets into the fight— he found it odd, how Jabber would go head first into danger just to experience the pain it could provide. He might have lost a member today, had he not told Chtoni to keep an eye on him, in case he foolishly set himself up for failure (this mission was not worth the loss). Zodyl trusts his judgement, and his perceptiveness and sharp nose was of great value to the Raiders.
From over his shoulder, Zodyl can clearly see the excitement painted in the Raider's face. The passing flickers of emotion betray Jabber's thoughts as he speaks of the Cleaners he encountered alongside their Vital Instrument. Staff, scissors (Noerde's electrifying loyalty flashes through his mind), umbrella —
"Oh, right." Jabber pauses midway, sways in his spot with overflowing emotions, "The Spherite's gloves are from the Watchmen Series." Zodyl turns on the spot, shifts his body ever so slightly. "He smells an awful lot like you, too. Ha!" Jabber's nose furrows with his short laugh, and he tilts his head sideways, towards Chtoni, who steps away from the dreadlocks that fall close to her. "Rudo puts up a better fight than Zanka when it comes to my toxins, though."
Jabber says it like a purr, like the cat that had set sights on its next prey. He is obviously satisfied of his own discovery — but Zodyl gets caught in two things: one, the almost-dreamy look on the Raider is to be kept under watch, and two, the aforementioned Cleaners could resist Jabber's claws. He is aware of Jabber's Vital Instrument, made small as it is, as he is aware of his ability to hold back. Even if his dosage had been minimal to keep his prey alive, Zodyl knew it was no easy feat to move before the poison let up. One thing is of less concern than the other, and he stands, comes close to Jabber.
"Though Zanka did move and struck me multiple times..." Jabber adds, almost absentmindedly, and Zodyl is not blind to the interest that has planted itself within Jabber's mind. "And it felt amazing, I'll say. He has such a foul attitude."
Like a dog with a bone, Zodyl is aware of how stubbornly he could be with the object of his interest. Whether to nip it now or later, he still debates it, unsure if it would morph into something that would get in the way later down the line. He would have to see. A trial run wouldn't hurt.
"In light of your failure, you are not allowed to fight the Spherite."
Jabber snaps back into attention, makes a face at the declaration. A wild dog is still a wild dog even if a leash is attached, and even if the Raider has enough decency to shrink into himself, almost look ashamed of his failure, Zodyl is no fool. Jabber would bare his teeth to get what he wanted, and in his own twisted relationship with pain, deterring him required unique ways.
"I will speak with the Spherite."
"Ya? Not sure he is much of a talking kind."
Irrelevant. He shares a look with Chtoni, before he speaks, "It shall be within the Beast's belly. If other Cleaners tag along on our chat, feel free to deal with them. The newbies will help."
"Really?!" He basically vibrates in his eagerness, "Hey, can we pick?! I didn't get to fight Zanka this time, so I'm sure—"
Zodyl lets him rant to his heart's content, becomes aware of Jabber's feelings through his excitement. He recognizes the adoration— an interest turned obsession that would befall the poor soul that had the misfortune of catching Jabber's attention. He has seen that before, the self-destructing nature that adoration holds. Jabber has formed an idea of who this Cleaner is and has sunk his claws onto it.
It would prove interesting if this Zanka matched Jabber's nature, if Jabber's self-imposed restraints were to be abandoned. The leash in which he keeps him is formed by Jabber's willingness and Zodyl's crushing power. He has something Jabber desires, can provide the satisfaction he seeks. It would seem that this Cleaner might be able to rise to the challenge, and Zodyl is happy to see how Jabber's prodding would nurture the Giver's relationship with their Vital Instrument. He had a gift for that, of pushing people's buttons in the right way. It would only fuel one of Zodyl's trash beasts in the end, so if the quality of it got enhanced, all the better.
A pitiful man, Zodyl thinks, with his devotion twisting into love, gnarly tree branches knotted, wood splintered and ready to bite— something raw and feral. Jabber does not shy away from his desires, Zodyl knows, he seeks the thrills and joy without a second thought, lets the pain be the reward for his efforts (as restrained as the efforts are).
"Jabber," the aforementioned man stops, and the over-excitement that muddles his eyes, that makes him bite his own lips to keep it from spilling, is such a palpable thing, "do not forget that the core needs offerings."
"Awww. I will have to sacrifice my dear Zanka?" His pout is over-acted, but the endearment doesn't escape Zodyl's notice. Jabber snickers, shrugs his shoulders. "So if I do a good job...?"
Zodyl has something Jabber desires, and it is undeniable that the illusion he has attached to the Cleaner does not apply to Zodyl. It is not with blind devotion that Jabber follows him, but it is that blind devotion that has him fixating on his next target, hoping to be lavished with the pain his twisted emotions would find.
Jabber is a unique individual, as easy to read as he is hard to understand. Zodyl trusts his judgement, knows Jabber would find an answer to his faith placed in the Cleaner— whether worth his devotion and attention or not, he would find out. Whether worth his devotion or attention, Zodyl could always claim said things for himself. He held the power to do that.
"If you do a good job, I can test your mettle again."
Jabber's face contorts as his grin grows sinister, dripping with anticipation — Jabber's affection is something thorny, meant to hurt, and Zodyl knows he will not hold back in order to succeed this time.
He wonders if Jabber's new interest can survive the viciousness of his affection.