An' I can take care a' myself, too, Kettle or Pot or wwhatevver the fuck metaphor you're failin' at usin'. I didn't need you burstin' into my hivve, an' playin' ovverprotectivve lusus.

Ain't like wwe can actually die here. Not for real.

[Eridan grumbles as well, unfastening the cape from around his neck and unraveling the scarf. He's actually hot, a sign of his days' long fever ending.]