When Luca was a child, sickness was something that he encountered often. It was inevitable really, considering the way that everyone was kept in such tight quaters. Every night the silence was broken by sniffels and coughs, but the threat of sickness didn't stop the others from huddling for warmth. In the harsh cold of Winter, sleeping alone could very well mean death. Not that the sickness was any better. It wasn't uncommon to wake up staring at the blank face of someone that had succumbed to their conditions overnight. Luca had been lucky, but even that wasn't enough to save him from the coal dust that hung thick in the air around the processing plant. Now he lives with a constant souvenir from those frozen days. With every laboured breath that he squeezes from his lungs, he's reminded of cold stone floors and the haunting death rattle of those he once considered friends. These grim thoughts are the ones that return to him as he catches sight of Skeleton Key on the ground. Perhaps one would expect sympathy, considering Luca's past, but the disgusted curl of his lips proves any of those expectations wrong. There is no sympathy found in his eyes, only hate and a faint glimmer of fear. Isn't it natural for one to despise that which scares them?

"Maybe you'd be better off," Luca says as he draws closer to the group, hovering a distance away from the undead creature. It's near impossible for the incubus to get sick now, but that doesn't stop the nagging fear that tugs constantly at his stomach. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he squints, staring Skeleton Key down. He's never seen an illness like this, he thinks, all maggots and bile. At least diseases involving blood could be pretty. There was nothing pretty about this. "Half alive and half dead. Choose a damn side," he says in a somewhat strained voice, turning his gaze away from the hybrid and off to the side. Anything to distract himself from the constant thump, thump of his heart.

There were so many strange creatures. The textbooks had never addressed...ghouls, if that was what this person was. How was he to treat the condition of someone who was, somehow, partially dead? But he was alive, too, and Pip didn't want to keep on walking when help was needed. He just wished he knew what to do. Would Junji- would he remember these things? Would he know what to do? The canine didn't want to seek him out, afraid that he wouldn't, or that he'd remember flashes of Pip as a failure. Or he wouldn't remember him at all, which seemed most likely. Pip wasn't especially memorable, all things considered.

"Whatever is on your mind, that doesn't excuse what you've said," the canine remarked firmly, his gaze on Luca, frowning. "If you aren't going to be helpful, I suggest you find something productive to do elsewhere." His mismatched eyes shifted to the ill creature, softening, frown more concerned than chastising. How was he alive in this state? Exposed bone and muscle tissue were just begging for infection. "Have you ever been sick before? I'm sorry, I've- never treated someone with your condition."
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