“We,” they murmur softly at the same time, “… feel nothing, Valeyard. Perhaps it is your blood volume spikes? They went up quite a bit the last time you collapsed, right after you resorbed the Flesh that were with you in the room. And today is the warmest day of Sprinjjiia, the Ansypporan warm season.” Their wing-sleeves wave for emphasis, long claws casting a forked shadow over the wall behind him. “Perhaps you should take a bit more rest while we prepare a quick stew for you. Some food may warm your spirit. Slightly. Have you noticed any odd cravings?”
Enraged, the Valeyard clutches his low bed, bracing himself against the back wall.
Cravings? Stew? The last time? Resorbed? Interesting…
“I see. Well, I could eat a horse… preferably Arthur, maybe…” he murmurs, confused and holding his head now as he sinks back down to sit on the bed under their softly lowering claws. “But I’ve never been here… I know -he- has, but… this really doesn’t matter. I have a contact that needs my attention on Gallifrey. If I don’t get a signal to him, you lot are going to be sorry. And preferably stuffed with wild rice- got to get some meat on those bones! Well, on these bones, anyway. Haha.”