Armani turns his head away from the others to spit out the sap-- there's no reason to be rude in Hell. But its effect is immediate: his tongue feels like a fat chunk of meat just rolling around in his very numb mouth.

"Cuhmawn," he slurs, offering a hand out the Eddy to help him up. He'll do the same for Winter, too. "Ders ahuhnathuh vine."

At least one word's intelligible.