“Oh.” Dill looked at the case of meaty goodness. He hadn't finished, not in the slightest. There was a well of hunger inside him that he felt could never be filled if he lived for a hundred years. Which was, he now realised, entirely possible if he could stave off the corruption of his body and keep the flies away. “Let me just take a few morsels for snacks.”
Molly and even Sir Frederick turned away as he scooped out the second eyeball and pulled out the tongue. It was easier than he expected without its coating of slippery saliva and blood. He wiggled his fingers. There was a discernible creaking in the joints which, if his experience with the eyeball was anything indicative, meant that eating fingers would improve his own. He pulled one of the arms out of the case and took a bite out of the tender flesh of the arm before twisting the fingers and popping them off the knuckles one by one. He grinned. “It reminds me of when I was a kid. My granddad used to grow vegetables in his back garden and he used to let me wander about pulling pea pods off the the bushes.”
He stuffed then in his pocket, relieved they weren't fresh. At least his jacket wouldn't get stained with blood. He dropped the arm back into the suitcase. “Right. I'm ready.”
“Finally!” The imp closed the lid and fastened it, then manoeuvred the whole thing into his warp tunnel. Dill was surprised it fitted. It looked far too big. That, he supposed, was the nature of spacewarps. They were infinitely expandable.Probably.