The weasel shuttered as the air left him, nodding as his eyes became heavy, his body spasiming and twitching as he slowly lost conciseness. His legs giving a few more kicks before his whole form went limp and lifeless, ready for the acids to do their work. The weasel found him self in the failure void of death, absently he began to reform him self but stopped when remembering what you had said, curious to see how you went about the process.<br/><br/>(sorry it took me so long)