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The Igor grunted with a nod, trying to hide his hand-shake as he fished for his keys, shambling down the dank hall and rows of sometimes bloodstained doors until he came to his own, rather battered one, still sporting the scorch and claw marks of a long history.

He pointed to his chest, pointed to the door, grunted, and fumbled to unlock it as though that answered that.

On the other side of the door was a curious, pained whining sound.

The hunchback grunted, a weary, harassed look turning to the elf warily. He cracked the door open, and a massive yellow lump of stitches and teeth rolled out, nipping happily at his boots, tail wagging as it sniffed around Jericho's legs.

Christof simply slipped in, letting Scruff harass his guest or come get food, which ever happened first. If Jericho even remembered Christof's room, it had certainly evolved since their first year. There were still certain Parts, spare arms, a foot or a leg here and there hanging from the ceiling by meat hooks, but the workbench was now covered in small, work in progress gadgetry. Model kits, junk engine parts, tools and scrap littered the place as well as laundry.

He crouched by the metal bin, scowling down at the contents before hauling a bag of puppy-fear-kibble down from it's hiding spot on one of his book shelves, and thrust it at Jericho before pointing to the foxfireon fluffs all peeping energetically.

Christof grunted again, shoving the bag at Jericho if only to keep his hands full, and pointed once again to the peeping balls of fluff and teeth all scrambling to try to claw their way out of their bin.

"Hurr-hurr." Christof shook his head as he let Jericho take over, hoping it would keep him busy for a few moments as he sat himself down at his cluttered desk, pushed a few blueprints aside to start scribbling something down on a free sheet of paper.

The puppies all nipped at eachother and Jericho's hands playfully, bouncing like fluffy popcorn.

"Hurr," Christof grunted, scribbling faster as his third arm slipped out from under his jacket to point at the shaking bin of puppies.

Meanwhile, something was lurking under the bed, watching intently.

Christof grunted again, writing faster.

Behind them, the shadow's head sparked, the bolts sticking out of his head crackling thoughtfully before it hopped forward, and kicked the bin over, sending puppies scattering at their feet with excited yips.

One immediately jumped up Jericho's legs, two more playfully biting his feet.

Christof groaned, lurching forward to try to snatch up one yipping monstrosity, but his boot landed firmly on another pup and leaped in alarm at it's yelp, dropping the first immediately. Scruff, then, woke up from his nap, and like the ferocious, protective mother he was, decided this was a good time to try to climb onto the workbench to search for treats.

The pups at Jericho's feet, meanwhile, had come to find that he was incredibly delicious.

A cutting board flipped off of the table- promptly launching a furry ball of fury and teeth flying across the room, past Christof's ducking hunch and into the bookshelf with a splatter of tossed tools and paper.