Pam's jaw drops.

Sophie-Ann, wide-eyed, clutches at her pearls.

And the Magister...well. He didn't get the last word after all.

There's nothing left of him but a mess of congealed blood and tissue and an empty, crumpled suit.

And perhaps everyone but the most insane fucker in the room knows that there's a much, much bigger mess to clean up after this.

Pam looks up at Eric. What the fuck are we going to do?!

Sophie-Ann facepalms. I just married a psycho.

The Magister's remains bubble and gurgle and slowly trickle toward a drain in the floor. Drip, drip, drip.