[His raised hand earns a flat look, some vague undercurrent of sullenness in the link between them if not her expression.]
He is diseased.
[Why the symbiote even thought to consider him capable, she doesn't know. But if any sense could have been made of the selection process, surely they would've sorted it out by now. Instead there are only mysteries: hosts with weak bodies, poor minds, a collection of flaws. Part of her wonders if the symbiote is degrading somehow - if the rarity of a brood hatch combined with the mixed quality of the hosts themselves is significant somehow. Perhaps the bottom of a barrel is being scraped.
If the thought frightens her, she does her best to forget to be concerned.]
no subject
He is diseased.
[Why the symbiote even thought to consider him capable, she doesn't know. But if any sense could have been made of the selection process, surely they would've sorted it out by now. Instead there are only mysteries: hosts with weak bodies, poor minds, a collection of flaws. Part of her wonders if the symbiote is degrading somehow - if the rarity of a brood hatch combined with the mixed quality of the hosts themselves is significant somehow. Perhaps the bottom of a barrel is being scraped.
If the thought frightens her, she does her best to forget to be concerned.]
But you're correct. Time will be the judge.