There is something pathetic about attacking a man who can barely defend himself. Ed feels more like a vulture than a predator, but overall he feels sick, like there's poison pushing through his veins; cold blood flooding cold veins buried within chilled flesh, numbing the higher senses of a mind that's already become more animal than human. More than ever, he feels like the monster he is. Because it's more than the teeth and the eyes and the skin, the virus changes you down to every snap of a neuron, down to the very nucleus of each cell.

Ed barely hears Eugene's question, head still buried in quivering hands as he takes useless breaths to calm his hunger. His teeth feel sharper, longer than ever. When he finally looks up at the cripple, perhaps they draw attention from the unnatural glint of his golden eyes.

"Mutation?" he pauses to chuckle wryly. "You mean a disease. But you know that already, don't you? There isn't anyone who wouldn't know."