Sal never expected her to change so drastically. No, no, he expected her to change, but not on the scale she had.
Not that he viewed it as a bad thing, he loved the way she spoke, walked, looked now. She wasn't an innocent little flower anymore.
But, then again, he could be charged as the reason that she isn't. And he's pleased to accept that concept. Oh, so pleased.
He's made her better, made her to see what she really thinks, how she really feels; he longed for, lusted for her for years, decades.
And now she felt the same, and everything is fine, and his brother is all but gone from her mind. But, he's patient. He's willing to wait until she's ready for the other shark to die.
Still, when he makes a smart-mouthed comment ("He doesn't care about you like I do, dear, and he can't move! He's useless, really, he'd be better off dead!") he finds his neck squeezed by two gloved hands, putting enough pressure on his throat as to take his breath away.
She really was something, wasn't she?
"Oh, is that so? And that's because you beat him every day, Sal." Her words come out tinged with annoyance, and she squeezes more, face morphed into a frown, an expression she rarely wears nowadays. "You're too jealous for your own good. What, do I need to pay attention only to you?"
He coughs at that, not even trying to pry her hands off in order to breathe. He trusts her enough to think she wouldn't kill him. "A-Ah... No, d-dear, you're fine..."
His seeming fear is acceptable to her, and she lets go, allowing him to breathe. "Right, then. It wouldn't be right for a familiar to be jealous of another, would it?"
"N... No. Not at all, dear." He coughs, and it seems more like a laugh than anything, trying to catch his breath.
Though, it wasn't like he disliked the treatment. He never did.
