At that moment, Albert's mind contained only two words: I'm gonna puke.
"…I didn't taste anything. All I smelled was brain mush. Thanks. Please don't disgust me like that again."
Holding his breath, Albert shoved the utterly-dead vampire bat off his body.
Then he finally sucked in a lungful of fresh air—
…Well, as fresh as air in an underground tunnel could be.
He panted for a moment and instinctively looked down at his palm.
The "mouth" was still squirming with lingering hunger, as though unsatisfied. The twin rows of sharp, needle-like teeth rose and fell in a mechanical rhythm, like some bloodthirsty abyss breathing.
Seeing a vicious creature that had nearly drained him dry a moment ago now lying dead at his feet was horrifying enough—but what made it worse was that he had caused it.
His hand was still damp, coated in unidentifiable fluids and clots.
