He watches Apollo go, using her mutt for support, and immediately regrets his decision. The miserable woman can barely stand! If he'd just have stalled a little longer, waited until she'd bled out just a little bit more... It might not be too late. Taking her out now might even be the sort of trick the Black Flight would approve of. That smirk of hers is what almost does it too, his jaw stiffening when he sees it, heat rising to the surface of his face--

But again, it's that nagging voice in some corner of his mind -- what if you're not quick enough? -- that sets his hand to trembling again and for the second time today he backs down. He's not sure what's worse: the thought of death, or the fact that thinking about it turns his stomach so much. Too disgusted with himself for a cutting remark or comeback, he wordlessly gets to his feet and brushes himself off (little good it does him and his thoroughly ruined clothing.)

It must be some kind of sick joke. His immortality -- which he'd spent generations of despairingly empty life cycles cursing -- is something he actually finds himself missing here. Qilby glances up at Deathwing again, searching the great reptilian face for a sign of any sort of reaction to how things turned out. This is all the more reason to accelerate his research, find a shortcut back to that power he's accustomed (entitled) to. But if he's harmed his chances today...