Even still, as they feel the bitterness slide down their throat, they will not stop smiling, nor will they look away or blink or otherwise break eye contact. They want him to see it, every inch of what he's done, the same way they have. He will see his consequences. He will see every second of them. Their gag reflex pulses sickening in their throat, their stomach, but it won't be long, they know. The sores must surely already be forming down their esophagus and all along their digestive tract.

How convenient, that this Ingress must have known how intently they desired this. It had known it enough to supply them with their very own poison.

They can do nothing but tear out another mouthful of flowers and chew them, baring their teeth at him in a smile stained with flecks of red and green and yellow, until he reaches up to - what? Choke them? Strangle them?

Everyone learns, soon enough, what it is they want. And they either resist it or allow it. In this case, mercifully (ha ha), it seems to be the latter.

"You'll blink before I do," they whisper, the words shivering out of them in an uneven hiss.

The breath rasps agonizingly in their throat, and they continue to smile. Wait for the digestion to process properly. Wait for the side effects to settle in.

If not, then perhaps they'll be heading off a bit sooner!