A tiny pinprick of pain made its way known to the clouded mind of the Sin, agony and torture and the pain of never being content, all mixed into one numbed feeling. Though Greed was growing conscious of his situation and himself, he had not enough coherence to separate all of them, his eyes still mostly shaded and unfocused. The only difference was the slight tilt of his head, the minute uplift of the corner of his bloodied lips, baring incisors that grind constantly against the flesh in his mouth.
His vision made out an outline in midst of all the heat surrounding him, in shades of red, orange, ash, brown. Hardly recognizable if not for the familiar aura around it, overwhelming and over-pressuring at the same time.
Ragged throat muscles contracted slowly and gained movement, their efforts bubbling from the Sin's torn mouth, emerging as a wet, filthy, cough of a laugh, laced with a growing consciousness that had hidden itself away within the Sin all this time. They were parasites, after all and keeping themselves alive, was literally their life.
"Fancy meeting you here," he rasped to the figure.