Mack's sharp eyes caught the demon's shift in weight, slow, compared to him. His armor didn't help him much in terms of the speed category. His legs kicked into action, and he slid underneath one of the demon's arm, trying to avoid the other. By the time the shrill whistle of the demon's cherry hot fist went past his ear, Mack was step to the side, and then another rapid two steps behind the demon. A shallow puddle of slime where he had stood just moments earlier, deep, velvety black.<br/><br/>Just how hot was this guy?! The mud underneath the larger demon's feet had dried and cracked. Mack touched the side of his face that had been closest to the demon's arm, feeling a hard, smooth surface. He pulled it off, the slime sticking to it in gloopy strings. A thin, lacquer like piece of heat-tempered slime, the same shape as the contours of his cheek. What the hell? He hadn't even been hit.<br/><br/>Mack gathered a ball of slime in his hands. Or more like a handful. Slime, being a liquid, did not make for good balls. Some of it drizzled between his fingers, but it was enough. He flung it, aiming for the armor joints around Taran's gauntlet arm.