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Summary
The hand that snatches up the plate and then holds the door open is wrong, too — all bony in places it’s never been before, and the nails look like they’ve just gotten longer.
Dell swallows. “I, uh…just came to check on you,” he says, trying not to fixate his eyes on Herbert’s neck, where there is definitely a sea of strange little growths that look like they want nothing more than to push themselves out of the skin. And Dell’s certain they would, given the chance.
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Merasmus places a curse on Medic for refusing to help him set up a health insurance plan.
Expectedly, everyone else has to deal with the consequences, too.