Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark, held out his fist in front of him.
He clenched it tight... the tightness equal or greater to the clenching of his sphincter.
He needed to see a doctor!
R e a l l y . b a d .
...But there were no doctors in Turrim Orientem!
...Or were there? He'd have to journey to the surface and ask around--
He wouldn't last that long, though! Even with all the training he'd done, he couldn't fight his own body!
--or could he?
Tres Leches made a pitiful whining sound. For a tiny fraction of a second, it looked like he was pitying him... but that was ridiculous. His partner wasn't like that!
Most likely, he was saying something like, 'you won't die if you poop immediately!'
And so, the Lone Shadowdark sprinted as if his life depended on it-- because it did.
He made it halfway down the hall before realizing something terrible.
