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The punk boil had to pass through the common rooms to get to the stairs that led down to his floor--and he'd been in a good mood, honestly, he had some ideas for Scarentines gifts (green cat guy--what, sure he looked shady, but who was Roch to judge?) had picked up a bag of groceries, and was planning on crashing his little sister's place to make her cook them!

Then he saw the fliers. "Son of a candlewax, not this crap again," he said, picking one up and looking at it. "Jack, you'd think they'd have gotten a clue by now," he muttered, crumbling the sheet up in a ball and tossing it into the trash. Only to watch as it bounced off of a pile of them already in the can.

He was standing right in front of the ghoul on the couch, not that he noticed it, staring at the trashcan as if it had offended him. Then he snorted, reluctantly amused.

Roch glanced down, a hint of hesitation on his face as he looked at the new ghoul--he didn't recognize her. There was a chance it was a hunter. But he shrugged in reply. "DETH. It's this club about proper FEAR gatherin' and the whole 'have you hugged a human t'day?' spiel. It's extreme," said the boil with the almost foot tall mohawk and more piercings than skin, practically.

"And a lot of people hate 'em, cuz we got enemies that are human." He dropped down on the couch next to her, looking at her closely. "What's your name an' weapon or familiar?" he asked her.

What? If he didn't, Shun would be straining that one eye of his again!

"That ain't gonna be a problem," Roch said honestly. "When it is, we get some reapers out in the human world, makin' movies and other stuff just t'make sure they don't forget. What DETH is tryin' t'do is regulate the way we gather FEAR. Which ain't altogether wrong," he admitted, "but they try an' ignore the hunters--" He frowned, looking at her. If she was that new, would she even know hunters.

"Let's put it this way--no touchin' the humans, no scarin' them more than a tiny panic attack, no this, no that, humans are precious things that should be treated with kid gloves," he summed up. "That's how DETH sees things. And even if the humans are killin' off their own followers, all they do is disappear, lettin' their pals die. Cuz humans are important."

Yes, he was still pissed off at what had happened to Tex.

"Pretty much," Roch said. "Sure the thought is, y'treat the regular humans right and they won't turn into hunters when they get older, but that don't change anything about the hunters we already gotta deal with," he told her flatly. "DETH ain't the way t'go--but they have some points t'them. Horsemen ain't the way t'go, but they have some points t'them, too... hell..."

He looked at her. "How many of the groups have y'run into?" he asked her.

"Consider yourself lucky," Roch said quietly. "Hunters like t'kidnap us--that weapon she stabbed you with? It used t'be a student, like us. That she patched you up and let y'go? Well it just proves how screwed up their group is. There's some nice, there's some that'd kill you rather than look at you. It's the nice ones that are the most dangerous," he said flatly. "They sucker y'into thinkin' hunters might not be so bad, then thinkin' of takin' their side, then hell, you might make a pretty little weapon for them t'shoot the rest of us with."

He snorted. "Horsemen--well, they're crazier than hell, far as I can tell. But I wouldn't be surprised if a few students decided t'join them. Ask me, they got a reason for wantin' t'kill hunters--hunters destroyed their islands and a shitton of them, left a lot of the ones behind with Insanity--well, yeah, I see their point," he said quietly. "But their leader lady? She's a psychopath. You can practically smell the crazy comin' off of her--and I don't think it's insanity."

"Medea," Roch said, reaching up and rubbing his right shoulder. "And yeah, hunters got a leader--think they've got more than one," he said, but he didn't touch his back, mostly because reaching the scar from the whip wound was a pain in the neck.

"But they ain't here, and I'm tired of thinkin' bout them, so--what is Esu?" he asked. "A weapon? A familiar? I'll show you mine if you show me yours!"

Yes, he seriously just said that.

"Hmmm, not bad," Roch said. "Simple, but useful, not a bad blade length," he critiqued. "Have you ever sharpened her?" he asked, looking to Millie again. "We've got a smithery next t'the building, it's pretty convenient. And learnin' t'sharpen your own weapon can help teach y'to clear your head."

Then he stepped back, holding out his hand. A large amount of FEAR gathered, then formed into his guitar. Desiree had gone through some changes over the years, he thought with amusement. "This is Desiree," he told her. "Foot long bladed headstock, bladed body, six strings, or four, dependin' on what mood I'm in. No amp needed. But she does require a lot of sharpenin', I gotta admit."