Words words words. Annoying. He closes a hand around his victim's throat just to stop the noise.

Gamzee Gamzee Gamzee. Maybe somewhere under all that rust he hears it, hears it and remembers. A name. A name to put to the monster. Maybe in another life he stops and repeats the name and draws back from his former matesprit, letting him go. Maybe he remembers. Maybe over the next several months, he comes back, piece by piece.

Maybe.

His world has no place for maybes.

So instead he digs his claws in and squeezes, aiming to tear Eridan's throat out with his bare hands.