[The raspy voice that answers Quentin back isn't Alan Smith's — small miracle — but it's a familiar one all the same.
"Give daddy some sugar."
Something fat and wet plods at Quentin's chin like a worm. Extending from the receiver of his phone is a pink tongue, inhumanly long and flexible. It scrabbles around in the air like a snake that's been yanked out of its habitat, obscenely dragging itself along the seam of Quentin's lips, torn between trying to push its way inside his mouth and wrap itself around his neck.
The high-pitched, grinding shriek of metal against metal trills through the phone. Beneath it, the voice laughs at Quentin from out of the black as the tongue continues to extend out of the speaker to an impossible length.]
cw: you know
"Give daddy some sugar."
Something fat and wet plods at Quentin's chin like a worm. Extending from the receiver of his phone is a pink tongue, inhumanly long and flexible. It scrabbles around in the air like a snake that's been yanked out of its habitat, obscenely dragging itself along the seam of Quentin's lips, torn between trying to push its way inside his mouth and wrap itself around his neck.
The high-pitched, grinding shriek of metal against metal trills through the phone. Beneath it, the voice laughs at Quentin from out of the black as the tongue continues to extend out of the speaker to an impossible length.]