Hyde's smart a** giggled from the sidelines. He didn't need to bother Luna about her crankiness, only sit back and watch the poor confused thing shake every hand in the room. By the end of it all, she looked like a fainted Pokemon - and before she could trip over her own shoelaces, Hyde had caught her fumble, outstretching his hand with no obvious effort.
"Hey - you need a coffee or... something?" He asked her, the distance between them merely at an arm's length, until the SOLDIER's glove reacted, possessing a mirotic glow from the alchemical symbol traces into it.
Hyde's eye seemed swallowed, and seemingly out of nowhere an rebel boot came smashing into the door, snapping Hyde and Luna's hands away from each other, and plundering them across the floor. Not long followed before he had to watch Mel blast a powerful stream of water into Neon's room. Most of his curses lay wasted in the noise of her demonstration, but when the water finally died down...
"... wrong with you, are you crazy?!?" Hyde's face had burned red as a tomato by this point, but quelled with the idea of finally seeing their fearless leader after days of isolation.
The six people quietly peeped into the room, the sounds of a weak cough leading them on.
There sat he, the Graffiti King, bowled over amidst several chairs and painting equipment. Behind him, his room was decorated wall-to-wall with murals, minus the large melting blast-mark where the geyser hit.
Shaking off wet hair, they'd find the Graffiti King looking a little worse for ware. His hair was losing it's vibrant, blue color he had always taken so much care in dying, and he had grown an awful five o'clock, not very becoming at all.
Without much of a word, the King stumbled back to his two legs, shaking off some water, and beginning to re-steady his ladder.
"Neon!" Thundered Hyde, Stomping into the room. "Welcome back to planet earth!" As he sloshed through the room, he caught the one-standing table and plucked a bottle from it. The Soldier caught a whiff of it from the top, and his face crinkled like a throwaway note.
The bottle said it all.
"You've been drinking Absinth?? It's like poison!"
"Much of modern day art was inspired by Absinth."
"You've hardly touched it."
"Yeah," Lazied Neon, hoisting himself up the latter, beginning to repaint something in the middle of all this chaos. "I'm scared to."
Face met palm.
"Listen, Picasso, I don't care what kind of Renascence you're planning, you can't be stuck in this room all..." His words 'came quiet, whence he finally got eye of the room itself. The murals depicted hellish visions, like something out of Dante's Inferno. "What the..."
"Hell Prison."
"What?"
Turning grimly to the rest of them, dark circles mudding his complexion, Neon's eyes, still suffering some weak glow, shot daggers in towards the center of the group - Tsusaka.
"Why do you wanna know about Hell Prison?"