He holds the Shedite down with his three heavy front paws, toes spread, claws out and curved. The Shedite squirms, tentacles and oozing body writhing, soaking the fur on his belly. It's an irritating feeling, itching, and he growls.

The Shedite laughs faintly, whispers in a soft voice, a friendly voice, a voice that doesn't belong to that gyrating mass of eyes and jelly and mouths and ears - yes, the ears, the ears for confidences. Whispers, "It's not that bad, is it?"

"Shut up," Asmodeus growls. A barbed tongue unwinds, seals off a mouth.

There is always another. The other whispers, "It's just a game to you, after all. And to me. We are alike in that, no?"

Asmodeus makes a noise in the back of his throat, a hissing growl. A fourth paw covers the mouth.

Another. "And it is good to have someone like you. It is good to be liked by someone."

"Just shut up. Shut up."

Malphas laughs softly, reaches up tentacles, and soaks Asmodeus's fur as he holds the Djinn close.