apologizeswithpie

Gregorith's "status reports" tended to be both written down for official records, and delivered via phone call home. Not so this time, which prompted a concerned response from "PapaLuci@hell.aftrlf".

"Gregorith, you usually call as well as write, are you okay?"

"Sorry sir. It hurts to talk. It hurts to swallow. MY EXISTENCE IS PAIN."

Actually his throat was beginning to fell better, due in part to his going through Halls lozenges like they were candy. But now he was severely congested which was also not conducive to speaking.

"Melodrama aside, I'm ill. The usual torment."

In general, demons weren't ACTUALLY convinced they were dying whenever they got sick. They just hated it so much that they became ailing victorian children for a while. Largely because it didn't happen often enough for them to become desensitized to it. Also they enjoyed being melodramatic.

"Oh dear. I had hoped your being in another universe would have shielded you from it. But Beleth has it too so I guess it's not that simple."

Gregorith felt a pang of envy for his best friend, with a partner and kid to fuss over him and give him grief for his dramatics in his time of woe.

"In any case I suspect you'll pull through. You always do. I'm told jagermeister can help, but that comes from Loki so that may be a joke. Anyway, tell me more about this other me."

"Well I'm sorry to say we got off on a rocky start. He did not take the news that there was another version of him well. He also had a stronger reaction to my description of our universe than the other people I've spoken too. I fear his universe may be pretty bad. But he does seem protective of the demons in his universe, and he showed a passing interest in my art, such as it is."

What he had hoped was just dry air or dust caught in his throat, had turned out to be something much worse.

Oh, universe, not like this.

While it was true Gregorith had been trying to come up with some socially acceptable reason to stay in on Saturday, he had not counted on the price he might have to pay for such an excuse. It looked like the universe had provided. But at what cost?

He swallowed painfully, both glad to not be in danger of spreading this to the rest of demonkind, and despairing to be so far from home, now in his darkest hour.

Not like this!

Gregorith, Scourge of the Damned, Master of Level 9, had a cold.

Noooooooooooo

*sniff*cough*whimper*

"Ow."

(ooc: I wasn't certain I wanted to do this so early but I just loved this particular idea too much. My sympathies Mr. Greg, the sore throat was always my least favorite part of the cold cycle.)