thing is, twoey has been awfully NOISY about eating ever since it got a better taste of ... human flesh. it wants more and is settling less and less for seymour's scarred up fingertips ; it wants meat now, too, not just blood. and it has raised the name of the very person seymour is already expecting to see tonight. YOU DON'T WANNA DEAL WITH THAT DEBT COLLECTOR ANYMORE, SEYMOUR! and he doesn't, he really really doesn't, but seymour's not dumb enough to try and bump off someone who only beat mr. mushnik into bedrest when they could'a killed him for the money he owes. well. the money seymour owes, now that he's taken over the shop while audrey ii keeps raking in money and mr. mushnik recovers from the injuries.
that doesn't stop twoey from bringing it up, though. loudly. repeatedly. it's why seymour is sitting on the stoop of the closed up flower shop with a paper bag tucked under one arm. he tries not to let himself think of bringing one to the dentists office with it, the gun he didn't have to use to kill orin scrivello, dds, hidden away inside. now it's just money. just. a nervous, bandaged hand adjusts his glasses and seymour peers down the street and startles when he spots the semi-familiar form of the debt collector turn the corner. he stands up too fast and stumbles a bit, woozy - - - twoey does still take the drip-fed blood from his fingertips and the plant seems to find the way it leaves seymour off balance funny, which isn't great. none of this is great, though. what's new. "i, uh - i've got it - here," the paper bag is thrust out soon as they're within reaching distance and seymour keeps the other hand braced against the door so he doesn't do something dumb like take a headfirst tumble off the stoop, "it - it should be enough." @e1ght8all