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Ripley didn't know what was going on - he had conveniently forgotten the entire existance of Twitter - but he did know one thing: Ian was walking around like a drunken zombie. He spent enough time in the Death Industry, and just enough time on the Deus Island, to have an idea of just why Ian would do such a thing. Ian, of all people. His Dean.

After a few glances he had made an effort to try and track the other Hunter down, but could never come across him again. He must have been holing himself up somewhere, and his room was certainly not one of those places. It was the first place he had checked after all, and found it empty. Which meant...he had no idea where to even start.

Luckily for him, there was someone else within earshot. "Nevada!" He called out to the woman, raising a gloved hand to try and net her attention further. "Nevada, have you seen Ian?"

Ripley's lips set in a small frown as she admitted to not knowing. Well, dang, now what? In all honesty he'd been about to dismiss her in favour of finding someone who had seen him, but her question made him pause. "To be honest? I want to make sure he's alive, first." Because it'd been a while, and with that doom and gloom over his head, well...he'd seen too many suicides.

"And if he is, I want to talk to him." He didn't know if Nevada had seen him lately, and if she hadn't he didn't want to be the first to tell her that he suspected Ian of trying to drown himself with alcohol. "Well...if you hear from him, can you give me a call? It's really important." The Trainee pulled his phone from his pocket, indicating that he had it on his person - and actually on - at all times he dared.

"Maybe." That level of drunk and that level of grief...anything could happen. Worry continued to gnaw at the Death Trainee, antsy to move away from here and continue the search. "Shy's room?" He parroted in wonder as the Hunter's next words connected some dots for him. So, it was Shiloh. Shiloh must have died, perhaps for real this time. Ian hadn't reacted so well the first time, and now...

s**t.

"Which room is Shy's?" He had no idea, and so he focused his attention on Nevada, hoping she would lead him to it.

Nevada held up a finger, sending Quinn a return text and then looking back at Ripley.

"This way handsome." She turned on her heel and headed to Shy's room, which happened to be number 146. She hesitated outside of it and then looked to Ripley.

"I'm waiting for one more guy to show up, Just in case....we need a little more then talking." She pocketed the phone and stood outside the door, staring at it blankly.

Ripley followed dutifully, and when they stopped in front of room 146, he could only assume that it was Shiloh’s. He’d been about to try the door when Nevada commented, followed almost comically by who he assumed was the ‘one more guy’.

The Death Trainee snickered, but didn’t allow himself to laugh.

“I’m guessing you’re who we’re waiting for?” He commented idly, abandoning his attempt at the door to instead hold out a gloved hand to the other male. “I’m Ripley. Nice to meet you.”

"Quinn." He nodded back at Ripley. At first he almost seemed hesitant to take the others hand, but after thinking about it for a second he didnt see the harm in it. Grabbing Ripleys hand he gave it a single shake. "Pleasure to meet you too."

"He was one of the first people i met here actually, because of that." When his hand was free he used it to indicate the doors. "Being neighbors and all."

He watched as she pulled out the kit, growing closer due to curiosity of its contents. "Wait, why dont you just knock? Or we could send Shiloh a text, he might be inside?" Why in the world would Nevada be wanting to pick Shilohs lock?