Abathur considers the sample, slowly filtering out the burning taste. "Poisonous. Unfamiliar mechanism. Unclear if endogenous or accumulated through environment. Interfering with behavioral regulation." There was a growing desire to hunt.

He has limited means to take samples now. Especially small ones--this would normally be the work of other organisms. But his internal store of creep can be drawn upon.

He unceremoniously disgorges a lump of purple-grey slime, stretching it between his four hands into a thin membrane, entrapping the hive and its circling swarm. Mandibles immediately begin to bite at the creep. The few that escaped buzz toward him. He catches some out of the air, as his stingers arch down to pierce the entombed hive. Those that he catches are simply placed on the surface of the creep, stuck to the living trap.

"Samples subdued." His mouth gapes wide to taste the air again.

And he finds his target. This is a compulsion, and he is aware of this. But it is a fascinating one. "Insectoid toxin, redirects aggression." He rounds on the terran, coiling for a lunge. "Protects hive. Perhaps nurtures it."