The insole of Willow's shoe was soft, but that wasn't a kindness. Mathew struggled to survive for weeks in the Borderlands beneath Willow's stride, his body breaking down more and more with each step she took. All he had to eat was lint and dirt, all he had to drink was sweat. Marvelously he had managed to go quite some time without becoming as flat as he thought he would, given his size. With her sweat and his coating every inch of his body, he was pinned with her striped socks keeping him in place. Each step she took forced him to huff the rancid air, made worse by the harsh conditions she fought in. He managed to survive up until a final, fateful moment when his tiny form could no longer stand up to the abuse, nearly totaling a month underfoot before the nighty Willow stepped into Moxxi's bar.

A final crunch would have been felt, if she remembered he was there to begin with.

Willow had forgotten his existence entirely! Incredibly aroused, barely able to breathe through the sound of his own blood gurgling in his throat, Mathew's eye crushed from his skull. He twitched in agony just as her foot left the confines of his prison. Cool air, as she casually used her sock-clad toe to scratch an itch on the back of her calve.

He hadn't survived the night.

What remained of him was beaten into her insole until he was nothing more than a person-shaped smudge. When she remembered the curious creature, him about his tales of reformation and return, she vowed she would subject him to another fate underfoot.

But for now, Alcohol ho!