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Author: Guede Mazaka
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Doesn't help any that he can feel the strips of El's skin rolling up beneath his nails, bloody and drippy because the man's kind of a drip, but not really, and that's what's fucking with Sands, that he can't even see now and he still knows that things are changing, that his skin is shifting or maybe being replaced. And fucking transplants-he's never bought that weird sci-fi nerd shit about transplant personality traces, but now he's thinking Mexico and El are getting to him, and that's why it is such a fucking relief when the bells crazy-sing through him, and: "El, give me my goddamn-"
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