It was a damn miracle that Santi wasn't flying out the door shrieking.  As it was, as soon as she saw the<span style="font-style: italic">growth</span>on Tim's chest she screamed and went flying over the couch in a frantic struggle to get something between herself and...<span style="font-style: italic">whatever</span>it was as<span style="font-style: italic">quickly</span>as humanly possible.<br/><br/>She poked her head over fairly quickly though, wide green eyes staring in shock as the new human was born of Tim's flesh.  She couldn't believe what she was seeing... it was as though Tim had split himself in two.  Suddenly sitting in front of him on the bed was another lithe young man, with the same color of hair, and, she thought, the same color of eyes.  Like Tim had just...<span style="font-style: italic">cloned</span>himself.  A word she realized she probably shouldn't know, but<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>... had she overheard it somewhere, during those years she now couldn't recall?<br/><br/>The boy sat up.  He looked so calm, so relaxed.  "I'm... okay...?" he said.  There was a trace of a question to it, as though he didn't quite believe it himself.  And Tim, with a wide smile, started talking too... spouting more nonsense.  "Safe still, just like you would have been."  No.  No, nonsense.  He wanted her to think this...<span style="font-style: italic">thing</span>... was one of the people he'd murdered?  Nonsense.  He,<span style="font-style: italic">it</span>she corrected herself, looked too much<span style="font-style: italic">like</span>him to...<br/><br/>"Although he looked a little less like me before..." Tim continued, as though reading her thoughts.  "That's the issue when reconstituting someone's pattern partially from your own."<br/><br/>She rose up a bit from behind the couch.  Her expression couldn't possibly reflect her incredulity, she thought.  What?  She didn't understand what he'd just said... all her mind managed to piece together of the phrase was... was... he was lying, he<span style="font-style: italic">had</span>to be.  He was still trying to convince her, and he was going to<span style="font-style: italic">great</span>lengths to do it.  He was throwing out an excuse as to why... why the<span style="font-style: italic">thing</span>he'd<span style="font-style: italic">made</span>was so much like him.<br/><br/>"You're... you're trying to tell me this... this...<span style="font-style: italic">thing</span>," she wrinkled her nose, as though the new boy smelled bad --- which oddly, he didn't --- "is one of the people you<span style="font-style: italic">ate?</span>When he, it, looks just like you?  No."  She glared at him, hoping he couldn't see her trembling with the Velle robes wore.  That he wouldn't see that part of her wanted to believe him, and wanted to experience him again... "No.  You're lying.  I'd bet five fucks you're controlling him."  Not what she'd meant to say, and probably<span style="font-style: italic">really</span>not a good choice of words, but she forced herself to continue.  She looked around the newcomer at Tim's belly and pointed at it.  "And let me guess.  Now, after doing that, you're really hungry, right?  Stay the<span style="font-style: italic">fuck</span>away from me!"