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Totally. Quint chuckled nervously at a picture of Roan with 'fangs bared'. I'll be here until then, since there is one more thing I wanted to do before your dad calls. As was his etiquette, Quint would instinctively reach his cupped hand out for a shake, but then he used that same hand to slap himself on the temple. He makes a couple sounds a retard would be proud of. Hurr Durr, no arms.

Alright, He picked a small speck of lint from his shirt, If there's nothing else, I'll..see you later?

Quint would gasp as Dahos exposed the face, yet the surprise mixed in sounded appeased. Further fascinated by this creature and his..no, its lineage, Quint couldn't wait to meet..Father. Dahos wasn't human, or so he secretly hoped, but it didn't seem to have a gender either, so Quint wouldn't force one on it. ..I really need some more gear.. Speaking as Dahos made a rather so-mysterious-its-upsetting exit, Morrigan's bats let out a questioningly upset cry, to which he responded.

What, not reading my mind anymore? Not replacing, rebuilding. Gotta keep 'em on their toes, correct?

Though the sky darkened on Dahos' arrival, it would stay somewhat that way, the sun's corona now barely fazing the approaching night. Reaching into his pocket, Quint would raise the box of lung candy, placing and lighting yet another stick into his mouth.

Soon, he'd be face to face with what many could believe was the strongest, grittiest, viperous creature to ever roam the planet Earth, and Quint's plan was to kill it. It'd take more than courage, tenacity and guile to take down a behemoth like Roan, yet Quint felt that if he kept a constantly flowing mix-up game, playing her down to attacking for as short of an interval as possible, it was his way to come out victorious. This sounded like a solid idea to take with him against her, but in case there was in this instance a back-up card that couldn't fail.

"--At least I don't have to worry about going blind from it, like some people," he replied with a smirk, side-stepping into Quint's field of view. It was strange for the entity to make such a quiet entrance, but to Gatz's mind it seemed fitting, given the recent stillness that had fallen over the island.

"So... you want something, I imagine," he said with sigh and a sad smile. "It seems like people never make social visits anymore. Now it's just 'I need help' or 'you owe me one' or 'can I browse your vintage Playboys for a bit'? It seems that social civilitry died at some point, and someone forgot to send me an invitation to the funeral!"

"I seem to recall an old joke which uses that as the punchline," Gatz chuckled. "As for Bleu, I imagine she's somewhere about the island, up her usual mischief... Raising the average cup-size around here by a factor of five and the like."

He glanced over towards the beach front, as if expecting some sign of his other half's well-intentioned havoc. Things were blessedly normal for once, however. Stirred by the breeze, the ocean waves gently washed across the shore below, bringing a sense of peace to an atmosphere that had been all too tense during the past few months. The chaos entity hated himself for having to shatter the illusion, despite his inborn nature.

"... So, how much time do you figure you have left?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Well, traditionally you're supposed to stuff a vampire's mouth with garlic and various herbs after you cut it off, before burying it some distance from the rest of the corpse," Gatz said, switching into lecture mode for a moment. "Unless everything turns to ash, of course, in which case you should scatter them to the winds, perferably over the ocean. 'Moving water' and 'sacred salt', and all that..."

"... But in general, I'd recommend against keeping any 'trophies' from Roan within several leagues of your home, esspecially if you ever plan to sleep soundly ever again. I can think of a couple dozen horror stories, from various cultures, that start out that way. None of them end well..." He shot Quint a wicked grin. "... For the human, anyways."

The entity sat down on the bulkhead to his layer, his head tilted to the side as he inspected Quint. "Speaking of which, you still haven't given me the answer I asked for. Not the 'how long left to the attack' one you gave me, but the 'how long until you exhaust your soul and go batty on us' one."

He gave his friend a sly wink, as if telling the alchemist that it was okay to let him in on the secret. When the lid flicked into place, however, it wasn't an eye that stared back at Quint. The entity's orb of sight had been replaced by a hollow abyss. It was a maw of pure nothingness, the roiling midnight was constrained by a face that would seem all too human for the comfort of most. Then Gatz winked again, showing off a vibrant orange iris, along with his whites, and a pupil whose blackness seemed to hold the darkest depths of space.

"... I appreciate that you and the others seem to forget my nature at times, I truly do..." he said softly, gesturing towards his eyes. "... But you have to have realized by now that that these things are just for show, and that I preceive the world differently from how you do it."

"--Oh, and while you're at it, you might as well mention who popped on by here a few days ago." He ducked to pull a strap slung across his torso over his head, giving Quint a knowing grin as he did so. Gatz set the odd, triangular bag that had been slung over his back at his side, making a slight nod towards a deep gouge in the airport's tarmat.

"Many beings leave subtle impressions on the world with their passage--along with not-to-subtle scythe marks in solid concrete, it would seem--and those who are sensitive to such things can mark their passage. So, Quint, my friend..." In a very human gesture, Gatz leaned forward impatiently in his seat. "... Exactly who was it that stopped by my doorstep while I was away from home?"

Gatz stood up and stretched--despite not having any musculature.

"'Earsed from the history books', huh?" he repeated with a little smile. "You might want to inform your ally that history often has it's own way of doing things--chlices such as 'history repeats itself' and 'the past never stays buried forever' come to mind."

"Speaking of your 'ally', this Ceron, who you make sound so removed from the action you'll be diving into headfirst..." Gatz paused, trying to weigh his words carefully on what could be a delicate subject of alliances. Eventually he just sigh and shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that Quint had likely already made his own decision. "... I suppose that every game needs pawns, Quint. Just try not to be one who gets sacrificed during someone else's power play. It might help to gently remind your employers to pull their own weight in any mechanations, if only to protect their own interests."

A grin suddenly split his face from ear to ear. "Besides, if everyone let little things like being incorperal stop them, I wouldn't have a collection of H in the first place!" The entity chuckled slightly as he bent over to bit up the bag he had dropped earlier. "The spiritual and the physical realms are highly highly in many cases, if not one and a same. That which touches upon one touches upon the other, though not always in ways that we can precieve. Since you practice alchemy, though, I imagine that you already know most of this... It's one of the basic principles the discipline was founded on."

"However, I imagine that your new friends, living on 'other'--" Gatz didn't feel the need to confirm the arrogance and ignorance beings who tossed about the term higher exsistance so freely, "--planes as they do, might have more interests to tend to then a lone daemonicly-possessed-vampire-werewolf-uber-beyotch and her brood, despite her terrible social manners. So I suppose they might be forgiven if they seem a bit discracted from terrestrial events at times," he said with a shrug.

"Now... as for training..." The rolled his eyes, giving himself a rueful smile at the memory. "Yes, I did give Aonice a bit of training... though from what I've seen, I apparently didn't do a good very job of it. I don't think she even uses that flying jutsu I taught her, and as for the Infinite Edge technique I demonstrated..." He rubbed his forehead with his free hand, as if his head suddenly pained him. "... It's like watching someone use a wrench to pound in a nail instead of a hammer. You get the same results, but at the same time, they have things so completely wrong!"

His hand came away with a sigh of frustration. After several millenia of exsistance, it was a little disappointing that he didn't have the whole mentor thing down pat. He gave Quint a wounded smile.

"So, as long as you're not picky about a teacher with a bad success rate among his students, I suppose I can toss out a few tidbits and see if they stick to your empty head. Did you have anything in mind, or would you like a few suggestions? Keep in mind that you have, say, less than a week to learn things."

"How about you focus on making it across the board first?" he told his friend with a wicked smile. "And I wouldn't count on the 'panic' factor too much. Paranoia, maybe, but..." The grin left his face as he shrugged helplessly. "... Panic is for normal people. I've seen it happen when the chaos kicks in, the and world around people is a sea of death and fire. Those who are used to that environment, though, find it a forge, with them as a blade. Each blow, each blast of the furnace only serves to make that type of person tougher, sharper, more refined..."

He made a chopping motion with his hand to accent his the point in a less than subtle manner.

"... More deadly. In the 'old days', I would've downright giddy to be in a situation like that. But fortunately enough for everyone," Gatz said, his expression lightening again, "I've mellowed a bit during the millenia. The moral of the story is an old one, though: Make sure you have a good plan, and make doublely sure not to count on it too much."

At this point, Gatz decided it might be est to switch to a different topic. "Well, enough about death and daemons--onto training!" he said, giving Quint a hearty slap on the back."

"Now, you mentioned Taijutsu and Body Gates. I know about both--and the later is definately not for you, my friend. Not only does do such Gates require years of physical conditioning simply to be used effectively, but they require great strength of will in order to survive." He flicked an accusing finger toward Quint's arm. "--And as it's been pointed out, you'rer a bit low in spirits at the moment."

"I think, however, there might be one or two Taijutsu discplines that would suit you fairly well. Blade Dancer, for example." The entity made an odd swaying movment before settling back into place. "It's mostly defensive in nature, and takes years to truely 'master', but it will greatly boost your chances of surviving most any phsycial. Best of all, a fair amount of expertise can be picked up in only a few lessons."

Gatz shot Quint another nasty smile. "Of course, the training itself just might kill you--which would, ironicly, solve all your other problems quite nicely."