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"No," it said, simply, straightening. "If I wanted to leave, I wouldn't have bothered coming here in the first place. Quando si fa qualcosa, si dovrebbe farlo con assoluta convinzione."

Its rigid beak didn't allow for true subtleties of expression, but if Riley was paying attention to the thoughts radiating off the plague doctor, she might catch flickers of determination, a hint of stubbornness, and - above all - affection. Of its own particular brand.

"I... grazie mille," Malodore said, quietly, more focused on her words than the gift. When it did finally turn its attention to the small item put in its hand, it blinked in surprise. "This... your emblem? ... Grazie. I will treasure it..." It opened its beak in a smile and pinned the emblem to its coat, then concentrated hard on its empty hand, closing its fingers again, funneling FEAR in until... something cool manifested into solidity.

"And, I believe, match it with one of my own," it finished, holding out the small ebony pin, marked with the sigil of a plague doctor's mask. "Tresorina."

Riley's eyes finally lifted up, widening when it mentioned giving her it's own. That wasn't expected, and she hoped she hadn't just pressured it into doing so. She meant to ask it, when her mind went blank. All she could hear was the sound of it's voice, calling her it's tresorina. Her cheeks flushed a healthy dark purple, brushed her hand against it's own, taking the pin with a gentle touch. Her eyes were lit and crescented, clearly far more pleased than she would ever like to admit.

Vorrei che molto, il mio amore.

She looked down at the pin, brushing her finger against it nervously, and then took one last deep sigh and backed away.

Well. What do you say. Shall we finally go to the dance? She held her hands out.

"Si, let's," Malodore said, with an air of deep contentment. It would have time to retrieve the dead roses it had picked up, too - it had stashed them in a bush outside the demon dorms just in case.

... my, it sounded like the outer room was crowded now! It tilted its head at Riley before opening the door. "Is the party actually located in your room?" it said, in a teasing tone.

Colette looked at the figure shoved towards her and stared.

"Er... Hi," she said while giving a little wave. Colette tried to look around him and in the room for anyone else as casually as she possibly could. Anyone besides the boil she remembered trying to drown someone in detention.

Actually, anyone besides Christof of all people, oh Jack no. She tried to keep as neutral a face as possible, but her lips tightened into a frown. Was her admirer in the bathroom? Did they leave already? She begged to Jack that she had the wrong room. She would even take the ghoul being the one to send the message, but Christof's grip around her waist made her think otherwise. And why the hell was he waving? She figured he was probably mocking her. Colette didn't bother to return the gesture and briefly glared at him.

Instead of focusing on him for longer, she looked at Calder again. "Are you.. uh, sure? Er, well. Never mind, that was a dumb question," Colette tried to smile and act like she completely wanted to be here, "Of course you'd know." Really, he should if he sent the text. Why had she bothered questioning it? Clearly she hadn't absorbed his uncertainty and assumed it was some weird date play.

Riley's compliment had made her blush and the awkward, fake smile she formerly had switched out for a true, bashful smile. "Hello, and thank you. You look very nice too," she replied. Colette actually wasn't too familiar anyone here but Christof, and it was certainly the last person she ever planned to hang out with, but Riley's compliment out of the blue made her feel more comfortable yet nervous at the same time.

However, the little introduction had thrown her off. "U-um, I thought someone was actually waiting for me?" she started to blush, thinking that she did get the wrong room and there was some crazy mix up. "Maybe I have made a mistake?" If it was a mistake, what would she do about the person that sent her the message? Colette started worry at what the heck she had just done.

When Riley had turned to him to find Calder a date at last minute, it had been a rather arduous task. All of his immediate ghoulfriends had been claimed as far as he could surmise, but a quick stalk of groanspring had produced more potential ex-wall flowers. Alright, so barth had Commanded he leave COlette alone, but this was a favor, wasn't it? After all of their misunderstandings and grievances with each other- alright so maybe he had come on a bit jealous when Barth had marked her, but what Igor wouldn't be when a new servant made their way into the fold?

He felt he had done well, and had even lured her here without the use of chloroform or table lamps to the head and sacks. It was a step up for him.

Gingerly, he eased a bit closer to Riley from Morrigan, his voice low as though still anxious about speaking in front of new people, his face red, "Er... Mithtreth? I thould... probably make thure Mathter Barth is awake and drethed before we go..." He was quite the little matchmaker this Scareintine's Day if he did say so himself.

Calder was left wondering, as much as Christof, what to do. It was Riley's appearance that took the first step. Introductions. A simple matter of knowing their names, and he nodded as if to confirm what Riley said was true. While it might have been a tad too formal, he offered his hand. "It's nice to meet you." Even though it was completely from left field and took him from surprise, but what about today didn't take him by surprise? It was a big rollercoaster of ups and downs, and he just couldn't keep up at times. Still, so far, so good. No one was dead yet.

She suddenly became even more small looking, and he tried to figure things out quickly - a bit of a challenge for the usually slow kelpie. "Oh. I was told to meet everyone here." Then again, she seemed confused as he was. What was going on here? Apparently Riley had made this a blind date, and they were both surprsied on who was taking them. He hoped that she wasn't disappointed. Then again....well, he guessed she would be. When she seemed to want to back out, his ears started to drop. "Oh, no. I was supposed to met you. Sorry. You're suppose to be here. No mistake." Of course, that was what Riley wanted. He was suppose to be a gentleman and take her to the dance. It didn't work if she looked as if she was about to run.

While Riley offered to do his hair, he contemplated if he should leave Colette, but he really needed to gather his wits, and with the obvious care and attention to detail this ghoul had gone to, it seemed insulting to not put forth the same effort. He nodded to Riley. "If you'll excuse me a moment, Colette. I'll be right back." He told her, hoping she didn't feel as if she was being ignored.

He went with Riley to the back room where there was still glass on the floor, discarded clothes from both Riley and Calder on the bed and floor, (a rather suggestive image to see), and handed her his comb. It was made of fine silver, with etched horses on waves and a rim of white made from smoothed seashells, giving it a faint pinkish white color. The hairs were plucked from the Glorpin, a rather hairy fish and were soft but stiff. "So I'm going out with her?" He asked, just wanting to double check.

It was probably the strangest thing that had ever happened to him. Even stranger than that time a squirrel had jumped on his back and tried to ride him when he was seven. Sitting in Riley's bedroom, in close that she picked out, dolling up for a dance with a date that RILEY picked out for him – he didn't know if he should be pissed that she thought he couldn't get a date on his own, touched by all her small gestures of consideration and kindness, or just all around freaked out. He went with uncomfortable, and sat down, leaving Riley to mess with his hair all she wanted. The fact it was combed was admitting too much that he actually cared a little, tiny bit about his appearance for this event that he cared to admit.

For Riley, Calder's hair had been something a lot of ghouls in class sitting behind him had wanted to touch and braid. It caught whatever small light it had and moved and waved like a small stream of silver. It was cool to the touch, slipped through the fingers as easy as silk, and spilled about his shoulder sand down his back. It had a slight wave and curls from his mother's side, but was otherwise as straight as his father's . The white was just a color of adolescence.

When she asked, he shrugged his shoulder. "However you want it. I don't care about my hair." He said, already too occupied by other thoughts. "Why couldn’t Colette get a date? She's pretty enough. She doesn't look thrilled to go." Or maybe not thrilled to go with him.