Goresplatter seemed to be having some sort of fit. Just before he looked as though his head would explode, his muscles tensed and he stepped forward, just to the right of Rick. He swung his fist into the step and punched a considerable dent in the wall. Something snapped, possibly his knuckles. He took out another cigar and put it is his mouth. He calmed down a little.
"Those Vykkers... never something for nothing..." He continued to speak under his breath for a while, then looked toward Rick.
"Sorry, I've been in a boiler accident before - I don't like to talk about it, but let's just say it was caused by something little I happened to overlook. It was a cigar factory, I will say that - they gave me a neverending supply of these babies for compensation."
He sat slumped in the corner for a while. His knuckle was in his tentacles in thought. Finally he said; "What could those guys have put in me this time? I'm pretty damn sure I was over my testosterone problem, it's what they went in there to fix! Think, Slig, think!"
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