Edward shuddered, gasping with the brief convulsion. "Eridan," he said. He lifted his chin upwards, his peripheral vision still catching the sight of the blood infusion gear. The very life source that mocked him, the contraption that kept him dangling at his protege's fingers -- it scalded him to require it so deeply, so fundamentally.

Eddie figured that was the point.

"Eridan, what do you want from me?" His voice cracked the plea. Negotiation. He didn't want someone observing him like this, much less someone he could trust -- much less Mitchell, much less Felicia. Much less -- well. The very fact that his third alternative would be none other than his declared nemesis caused a bone-aching shudder.

He couldn't have Eridan call somebody.

Eddie briefly imagined Lil's furor over this lapse, a second time. Of course, it was Eddie who dismissed her, Eddie who kept her in the dark.

He knew what culprit held the blame.

Eddie's fingers curled.

"I can't," he whispered. "I can't just do that."