Welcome to Gaia! ::

At a safe distance. He nodded. He would try… Molan did not seem to like him anymore here than he had in the dream. But if the other Boil was willing to put up with him, he was willing to tag along for a little while. At a safe distance.

It seemed Molan really didn’t like him, was he a snob? Or just some sort of ice demon? The fluffy tail indicated that he was used so somewhere colder… but then again colder to a flame demon was pretty much everywhere.

“Where do you want to go?” he didn’t much care at this point. He just folloed them to the next booth, careful to take the back of tge group.

[exit]

"A love meter!?" The witch cooed happily as she clapped her hands together and awaited their obviously extremely high love rating. They'd probably break the machine with how very much she adored her darling zombie and then poor Moira would have to fix it, but oh Mort could help and --
"......Our numbers are awfully far apart..."
They needed to talk to someone?! It said they needed advice?!
Obviously this machine was broken to begin with, because that was totally off. At least, that was what Belladonna was telling herself.
With a dramatic stomp of her foot that caused the draping, glittery fabric around her ankles to billow a moment, she pouted. For about two seconds before she reached forward and smacked the button again.
"Hitting the button is pretty fun...."

"Randomizer," he reminded her gently, because these things didn't really have the capability to read something as complex as lovelives from one touch . . . right? No of course not. Nope. No way. Wow, he didn't need to devote five seconds towards that.

Obligated now, Mort pressed the button, frowning as they got an even worse score. "Isn't something should worry 'bout," he tried to assure the witch, wondering how much these sorts of scores would influence her, random or not. "Just fun game, yes?"

BY THE POWER OF SCIENCE!
Character's Names: Belladonna & Mort
Minis SNs: AyeAvast & Mediciner
First Roll: 74
Second Roll: 17
Difference: 57
Prize: ahahahah nope

Harrison felt suddenly really weird. Like somebody had walked over his grave. Or... he withdrew his hand, looking over at the guy whose hand nearly hit the button the same time as him.

Did he...know him...?

Harrison didn't remember anything that had happened during his coma, but whether he knew it or not, that shred of blue power was still embedded in him, and that shred flickered in something like recognition.

We met before wasn't a good question, when you were in a golem.

Currently, Harrison was a demon. He had a long, skinny tail and tall, bony horns. He was a girl, but it was hard to tell. He had moss for hair, a suit that looked like it came from a funeral home, and was covered in dirt. His lips were very red. His mouth was very dark and black. He smelled like rot.

The dragon he was carrying was very, very undead.

"Guess you and I got something in common," he settled on, still looking at the zombie curiously.

Might have been the dead theme. Or maybe the fact that (from the look of Mort's arm) they were both electric types.

When Rep's score lit up the screen though, he cracked up.

"Next time we'll try testing our brains instead of your a**." He tapped the numbers. "Near maxed out the jackdamn machine."

Rep took his time orienting himself where he even was in the first place. He could afford to, not in any immediate hurry to be put down. Scarentines. Right. It was a pity this booth had less pillows than the last.

He idly brushed some dirt off the back of Harrison's suit.

"Well, you are the one just weilding it. You have to be trained in that kind of weaponry." He smirked toothily, the smile lit from within by that same dim fire that flashed in his gaze. He'd given up twisting around to see the machine and settled on relaxing back over his shoulder, giving Harrison's butt a propriatory pat of his own. "Should have rated yours too."

He'd missed the zombie nearby, still more than a little bit confused.

The day after their shopping excursion and subsequent... time alone, West had learned that there was indeed some sort of school-sanctioned Scarentine's celebration after all. He wasn't exactly anxious to go, but they did have rather appropriate holiday attire now, and it wasn't as if playing around in a couple of booths was going to stop them from hanging out later by themselves. The demon took in the garish decorations and simpering couples, his tail curling toward Levi's even though there was really no way his would find hers without the tatzel's assistance.

He fully intended to ask her where she wanted to begin, but it took one glimpse of something semi-familiar to thoroughly bury that courtesy. West's eyes widened. A compatibility machine.

"Hey, c'mere," he said, taking a couple of quick steps toward the domes. "This'll only take a second." West hoped she agreed to get closer without any further explanation. He really didn't have an excuse for wanting to start here beyond his strong desire to get back at last year's machine, the one who had paired him with... Danny, among others. The flame demon was awesome enough in her own way, everyone who trained under Rage was, but they were not... like... that. No.

"Yeah, me and Rex here are checking out the school," Harrison replied with a smirk that showed an edge of those black, tombstone-like teeth.

They had a distinctly...soily quality.

B0nez was paying attention now too.

"...Apparently I got a thing for zombies. But I like the one I got. Even if his tail won't quit swishing around," Harrison growled, pushing it out of his face.

Rep grumbled "Yeah well it does what it wants." from behind Harrison self conciously, not even attempting to hide his usual accent. He'd finally caught onto the fact they were being addressed wriggling around until rather than doing the sensible thing and getting down, he was curled across the demon's shoulders like a boney, half rotted boa. At least it got the tail out of the way.

He gave Mort a lazy appraising look. He didn't meet many zombies that weren't crazy like Sammy or completely mental like Aymet.

Tracey complained.

<> His weapon was apparently a bit of a speciesist.

Speaking of bitches he thought to himself as they were joined by a woman, or at least a female something or other. "Awright?" he said, about at much of a greeting as he was capable of.