[Salone]

Na'lsa tilted his head, listening to the voice of reason that was Shealtiel. Unfortunately for the hunger building inside him, the old man made valid points. With a shrug his aggression disappeared.

"Forgive me, brethren. My last meal didn't exactly agree with me. You are what you eat, and the last one was a bit...mad."

His eyes found Michael and his gun, giving him a look of amusement. He turned to face him, presenting an easy target for him.

"Go on. Silly man with your silly weapon. I am woven to this flesh, and this flesh bends to my will. All flesh does, with enough persuasion. Pull the trigger. You will waste a single bullet, and then I will make sure you never waste another."