[The urge to pry into the mixed wash of Seth's emotions is strong. Dive in, pick them apart, trace them back to the meat and the root. Lay out all the pieces of Seth's reaction like a diagram to be studied.

But Richard knows most of it already. The pieces he doesn't, he's happy enough looking away from right now; already feeling too exposed, weak and stupid with the hunger twisting a fist in his middle. Irritation's easier. And Seth stating the obvious, again, draws a simple target.]

If I knew what we were dealing with, I'd have one.

[The whole point of how he'd ended up like this in the first place. If he could just deal with this like he did at home, he'd have fed by now. But in case Seth still hasn't figured out the depth of unknowns they're in the middle of:]

I don't even know if I can bite these people or if they bleed green and fucking purple. Not to mention that we just got on a magic alien plane. I drop a drained body in here, I don't think we're getting off it again.

[Frustration at absolute peak. He hates not knowing shit.]