[Tuco drops his hands back down to his knees and stares, finally seeing what the other two can. Whether it's some prescient part of his mind talking, or the evidence of a well learned lesson, his stomach lurches. That general feeling of unease is back, and it's steadily deepening towards something significantly more primal. Be it through poison or superstition, he's afraid.]
...A demon? [There's a sort of blatant, wobbly reediness to his voice that says everything his words don't. Are you sure this is a good idea? Is something horrifying going to happen if we get this wrong? (And of course, not forgetting:) Is something horrifying going to happen if we get this RIGHT?
He stays rooted where he is, rubbing distractedly at the sticky blood drying halfway up his thigh. As much as he's an advocate for personal greed, maybe (just maybe) some things are better left well alone.]
no subject
...A demon? [There's a sort of blatant, wobbly reediness to his voice that says everything his words don't. Are you sure this is a good idea? Is something horrifying going to happen if we get this wrong? (And of course, not forgetting:) Is something horrifying going to happen if we get this RIGHT?
He stays rooted where he is, rubbing distractedly at the sticky blood drying halfway up his thigh. As much as he's an advocate for personal greed, maybe (just maybe) some things are better left well alone.]