One hand greedily snatches that ampule out of the air, careful not to crush it in his palm... but still, once he's freed from silence he exhales, all his hate coming with it, "Son of a bitch!"

He looks between Andromeda-- harsh, unforgiving-- and then at Lily; and oh, this is where he falters. "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose," he mutters to himself, and then goes to fetch his mini couchodile from where it romps in the corner, holding it by it's tail. Well, then.

"Black was about to splatter himself against the wall. Next time I'll recall that death has little meaning here, and let him do so," he says, as the irritable transfigured critter snaps at the air. "Ingrate."