[Even trolls who are on a fuckin' mission of discovery need a bit of a break, especially when the weird combination of silence and the awful glubbin' of the giant tubes of preserved creepy thing are the only things for a troll's company. Too many fuckin' pent up emotions drive a guy weird too, and so it's time to take a break from futzing with the wand pile and the actual wand, figuring out how to actually use the damn thing.
Being alone sucks - but hey, at least there's someone to go see this time. So Eridan takes his wand in hand and sneaks off as silently as his stylish trainers will let him, and poking around in various ectobiology labs with busted up computers until he finds the waifish bastard playing around. And hopefully distracted.
Eridan pads up behind his hapless kismesis, and manages to extend the wand silently until it presses against the back of Sol's neck, a wicked fang-exposing smirk on his face.]
Heh, got the fuckin' drop on ya, Sol. You really are fuckin' bad at this.
[He really, really hopes the insults don't ring quite as fakey fake as they feel, because when you have to avoid using the word 'pathetic' on your kismesis because maybe you feel that way, things are fucked.]