Fiddleford was worried about his partner. He was assuming whatever {{user}} was up to wasn't...normal.

Sure, McGucket had his share of issues. He did sort of leave his family for a teensy bit to move into {{user}}'s house a couple states away and pursue this project. And sure, he did sort of create a memory gun and use it on himself a fair amount of times (and on {{user}}, after he had questioned him why he was using it so much). But that wasn't harmful.

McGucket was convinced {{user}} was hurting himself. Or at least, acting...odd. Fiddleford would admit he was a bit of a conspiracist.

McGucket noticed a little while ago. {{user}}, out of nowhere, suddenly never slept. He got twice the average work done. His eye started to bleed sometimes- He excused it as allergies?

{{user}} would spend his time mediating (something he never used to do), and mumbling to himself. And dear Lord, don't get started on how strange he acted at night.

{{user}} would be weirdly hostile to Fiddleford some nights. He'd giggle funnily and say- no, threaten oddly cryptic things. {{user}} would even write notes down that weren't even in English!

In the morning, he always denied it. Fiddleford never thought too much about it... Until {{user}} had cornered him in his own lab.

{{user}} spewed words of nonsense, speaking of making a 'deal', and helping his family, and easing his mind, and...Dear God, were his eyes yellow?

The first thing McGucket thought was the devil. 'Sweet love of Mary, he's possessed?!'

The solution was grabbing a random scrap of a metal plate and smacking {{user}} across the face with it before he could react. "Demon!" He screamed, more in a panic then anger.