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Calder had to scramble to figure out Igor rationality, something he never really got most of the time, to get Christof out of his funk and getting dressed and ready to go. What would work? What did Christof always use as his main rules and what always got him inspired and moving about?!

"Welllllll.......most Igor's wouldn't BUT that's because they don't have a contract to be at the dance. You see.....Morrigian...your date....has a contract with you to go to the dance. So, to take orders and do that duty, and do it right with the best of your abilities like you are supposed to, you have to do them at the dance. Think of it asssssssss........a change of setting. Like doing an order in Barth's room and doing an order in Riley's room. Just a change of setting, and different types of work. You like work. You think it's fun. Well, the dance and dancing will be fun, and you make all your owners happy." Ugh, he was getting sick saying all this garbage, but if this was what Christof found as his passion and what kept him from blowing a fuse, then he'd say it. He'd say it because it would get him to the dance and would create memories that the Igor wouldn't have if he just stayed in his room. Scarentine Dances were part of their young lives, one of those big experiences, and hey, the Igor could get lucky just a little bit. He did seem to like drooling over the ghouls. Everything would be right as rain if he just got moving.

He saw him raise the blade and shot his hands up. "Whoa. Whoa. Wait a second. Uhh...Uh....The dance. It's a romantic time. She might want you to kiss her. You can't do that with your mouth all torn up. Just...just wait until tonight is over. Okay? You can't go disappointing a ghoul like Morrigan by not giving her a goodnight kiss." He explained, not thinking of any other way to keep the boy from tearing off pieces of his mouth. "And it will be messy! Can't get any stains on all these new clothes. How about just ....using one of the nice scarfs for now to cover it up, and if she ants a kiss, you can pull it down. How about that? See. You don't have to do anything, but if she wants it, you should be a good date." And well, that was one perk of a mouth that Calder hadn't told him about. A kiss. It was the holiday for it and for whatever reason, Christof did have his own, weird, charm with the ghouls.

Christof quickly let go of the pen-knife, as it seemed he seemed somehow steered back on path to functionality again. He had mostly been distracted by Calder and his mention of.... "Kithing? Like... mithletoe?" He managed, looking somewhat horrified by what sounded like a distinctly Christmassy thing. He was derailed as his Mistress urged them on, watching her fidget with growing concern- another happy distraction. It meant his Mistress needed him! She wasn't going to send him away in parts, she wanted to keep him! He swallowed, and for Calder's sake he continued out loud while he still could, "Do... you need anything, Mithtreth?" He ventured warily, clutching the shirt Calder had suggested and jacket he had picked out himself, just for Morrigan.

Visual clues were usually one of the first things the Igor had been trained to look for, mismatched eyes quickly honing in on every nervous gesture, "Mithter Calder, could you gather thethe, I'll meet you out there in a moment, pleathe." He seemed relaxed, as though his brain hadn't just threatened to melt out his ears just a few moments ago. This was more within his comfort zone. And he had to work doubly hard to make up for his quiet act of rebellion. His Mistress needed a good servant right now, it seemed.

He trembled with glee at the touch, nostrils flaring a moment before he rubbed his mouth and nose on his sleeve anxiously, glancing towards Calder before lowering his voice a little, but still speaking because his Mistress deserved to hear him attempt speech like a fool, since she seemed so hurt to have missed out on his sad tries at words, "I'we been thinking, Mithtreth... About thkitter pitth. It m-might be thomewhat neat, er, to hawe a pit to drop unwanted company into... there'th thome planth at Math-" He stopped himself, carefully rearranging his jaw for Riley's benifit, "Mithter Barth's I'we been looking at that might be eathily adapted..."

"Yeth, Mithtreth."

There. He was on his way towards setting things right. He knew a Skitter Pit was just the thing to brighten her mood. She was a good Mistress. And he was going to be a good Igor.

Christof was busily texting on his eyephone as he wobbled out of the room, looking... better, at least. More functional and with a clear direction anyway. His Mistress was distressed and he wasn't sure why, exactly. She was going to the dance with Master Malodore, right? She had to be upset over his keeping secrets from her, which made his shoulders slump even more. But... but she had laughed and... that meant things would be okay, right? Right.

To Morrigan he wrote: Please come meet me in Mistress Riley's Dorm? I will be ready.

And to a mysterious other ghoul he wrote... the same thing. Only added in "Signed your secret admirer" - hopefully she did not know his number, and if she did not show up, he would have to fetch her and hopefully Riley would have some Chloroform or it would be difficult.

He glanced over the clothing, putting the phone on the table as he nervously removed his vest and unbuttoned his shirt, glancing to Calder with the same puzzled expression, "Kithing.... do ghoulth like that?" He wobbled, holding his shirt in hand while his mismatch of muscles bulged under his various demon marks.

Riley closed the door behind Christof, and the careful facade she'd been holding up crumbled. She sat down hard on her bed, and put her head in her hands.

This was a mistake, and she knew it. She knew it, deep down. She was setting herself up, and yet, as she got up and started unbuckling her top, she couldn't find the strength to simply give up. Israfel had wormed that one, tiny thread of hope in her heart, and it wiggled there painfully. She knew it would die tonight.

Riley's armor fell to the floor with a thud. She unhooked the skirt, and let it fall as well. Her now mirrorless closet door was opened to reveal the dress, hanging in it's package. She unzipped it, and reached in to pull the red fabric out.

She'd chosen the color for Malodore. She would have never guessed how foolish her choice would make her look now.

She pulled the gown out, and slid it over her head. A few buttons and snaps later, she was done. She knocked a box over, and her heeled strap shoes tumbled out. She stepped into one, and opened the door as she was slipping the other one on.

Are you boys almost done? If I'm ready before you are, it's going to be embarrassing.