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Gale, completely ignoring the tension that had suddenly erupted between Davey and Jerry, was instead watching the creature that he had picked in its cage, idly tapping a finger against his rifle (which he had lowered). He hadn't replied to its seemingly brash and uncaring statements, apparently lost in thought. It was several moments before he said musingly, and in a strangely disinterested voice "You won't understand, being what you are, but you'll have enough room in due time."

<< You're talking riddles on purpose, aren't you? >> came Jinhai's voice, low and reprimanding. << Why didn't you choose one of those four ghouls? You could have had a delightful amount of revenge. >>

Revenge wasn't ever an option. I don't play that way.

<< You're an idiot. >> said Jinhai, but there was amusement in his voice. But it was true, however - the revenge part, at least - after all, Gale hadn't sought out the ones who had brutally murdered him during that "test."

"Any reason for picking that one?"

Davey's voice made him glance up, Gale mentally shaking himself from his thoughts. He shrugged. "A few, perhaps. I'm not really all that inclined towards doing things out of pure spite, since I find that both useless and fruitless. Doing things just to get back at someone?" He shook his head. "Never really found that all that appealing.

"And before you say it," Gale went on, with a sideways glance up at the other Hunter. "I'm well aware of what these creatures are and what we're doing. I know quite well that they would kill me the first chance they got without any mercy."

He snorted, shaking his head as he glanced over at the four cages. None but Davey would be able to hear him talking, but he lowered his voice anyway.

"That group is evidence enough of that. They didn't waste any time in attacking once I had secured the first of them."

Shrugging, Gale shouldered the sniper rifle again, his gaze sliding across the tent towards Doctor H., who was bending over his assistant's shoulder, fiddling with some controls. "For the record, I could care less if they all die. That's what we're here for, isn't it? They've already proven just how vicious and merciless they all are. They won't hesitate to kill us, and I won't hesitate, either."

His eyes flickered towards the pink haired girl in the cage nearest to him. He couldn't tell if her words were sincere or sarcastic, but he held her gaze, just for a moment, his face inscrutable.

Then he looked away, crossing the tent back to where Bix stood.

"Bix. You're being ridiculous. I hope you realize that."

Jerry glanced over to the beast that was suddenly spouting poetry. His brows furrowed, still looking ruffled from the whole thing. "Is... that one trying to put a spell on someone or something?" He finally shook his head, glancing back to Bix with an exasperated expression, "Absolutely insane. That one makes less sense than the Scottish one. He's just spouting Hamlet. How do these monsters even know about Hamlet?" Suddenly, his face paled, "You... you... you don't think Shakespeare was a Halloween Creature do you?" The man suddenly looked absolutely stricken with horror.

Bix's head turned, super slow, and his mouth fell open. "WHAT IF HE WAS...?!?!" He was choosing to ignore Gale's comment about him acting like a fool. Why? Cause Gale always said he acted like a fool!

Bix leaned in to whisper to Jerry so that the caged ones couldn't hear, "I saw a Halloween thing that was a fairy when we were in our golems." He didn't dare speak loud enough for the creatures to hear him talk about being on their campus.

Shakespeare wrote about fairies all the time! Bix wasn't encyclopedic about the Bard, so he scratched his head. "Didn't the witches and stuff usually end up screwed though? Maybe he was a good guy!"

Donatello rubbed his eyes and sighed addressing the “do you even know what those words mean? Or are those beady little eyes between that large round nose upon that large foolish head completely useless?” Donatello stretched out as if he was in his bed “I am clearly not a monster but a ghost anyone with eyes could see that. Also if you’re going to insult somebody could you at least appear intimidating. I feel like I am being screamed at by an infant a hideous infant that needs a bottle and a nap.” His eyes didn’t shift from the ceiling it was good place to fix his eyes.

Donatello chuckled a very mocking chuckle not because he was insulting him. But because he was blind and taking insults on appearance from a blind man would be foolish. Even if it is hard to tell he is blind there really were no indications to him being blind but that was for him to know.

Glen butted out again as what he'd begun to think of as his fellow inmates spoke up. For this was an asylum to him now, full of the wild screaming and babbling of lunatics. He felt more alone now than ever, seeing more in common with the brutal captors who mocked and jeered at him than his fellows. He was almost beginning to buy into the propaganda the hunters spoke of. Animals. That's how they seemed he supposed. He tried to maintain a little more dignity, frowning to himself, rubbing his temples.

"Ah bet its sedatives for all next."

Diece turned to the ghoul next to her. Hmmm. Lois, was it? He let a rare, sincere smile cross his face at her offer. Remembrance. The idea had never quite struck him until that moment. Perhaps he would like to be remembered, if only for just a few more moments after this. “Diece. My name’s Diece.” He voice was a bit mumbled at first, but the second time around he spoke louder and clearer for everyone else to hear. The vampire had no clue whether or not everyone would make it out alive, but he sure as hell would have preferred dying as Diece than dying as a nameless specimen.

“I assume you weren’t able to do much,” mocked Diece, his eyes trailing over to Jerry. “I don’t see what’s so threatening about a man in a pink corset.”

Despite the captives, it didn't seem like there was any immediate danger in the tent. He let Azrael's battle form go: the sword at his waist disappeared and an extra tag on his necklace bumped reassuringly against his heart.

Passing by Gale, Davey clapped the younger male on the shoulder. "Nothing wrong with not wanting revenge. It's often a cause of stupid risks and needless deaths. Better to keep a cool head."

He seemed like a good sort of kid. Reminded Davey of new recruits, actually. Young and often overlooked due to their age, but full of just as much promise as the more seasoned soldiers. Gale's reasoning for his selection was proof that he was just as mature as the other Hunters. Perhaps more so, Davey thought, eyeing off the others in the room.

Davey was puzzled at the turn the conversation had taken. One ghost spouting Shakespeare didn't mean the man was one of their forbearers. Between the ghost and the suddenly stricken Hunters, Davey was having flashbacks to his school days. Davey rubbed at his temple, closing his eyes briefly to fight the oncoming headache that Shakespeare had always given him. "They say he had traffic with the realm of the fa'e, but it's just as likely he was drunk, on drugs, or making himself sound more mysterious than he was," Davey snorted. "In any case, he couldn't have been a Hunter. He wouldn't have had time for all his writing of he was doing what we do."

... Okay, Jerry was earning points back. Very, very few, like Snape being forced to give points to a Gryffindor, but Davey couldn't help but approve of a giant bazooka being aimed at the more annoying of their captives.

"Take his cage outside of you want to kill him," Davey advised. His lips kept twitching, trying to form a smile. "You don't want to know what the doctor will do to you if you destroy any of the equipment he has in here."