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The heavy feeling of being the odd man out was now replaced with being completely unwanted. It was getting old. Calder, fresh from the guilt of turning the switch in the first place, now watched his friend cower and beg before Riley as the Queen debated what to do with her pet. Even Malodore was pathetically whipped by her yet didn’t seem to be getting any smack to the brow or repercussion from what he could tell. Barth was moving about, as slowly as he ever did, making no moves aside from finding the lepus that may or may not be suffering in some corner.

Swallowing the lump down his throat, he turned. “Congrats Riley. Way to ruin everyone’s fun.” Before, they had been rather happy just doing this experiment of Christof’s. The boil had been proud and excited while Malodore and Barth were eager to see the results. If Riley had not appeared, they would be finding a way to turn on the lights and finding that lepus in the meantime. Christof wouldn’t have regretted his accomplishment, an achievement really in thinking of something on his own and going through with it. An independence despite the fact he was now even more marked than before. Now – now he was looking miserable as if doing things he wanted had been a bad thing.

Worse yet, Christof had seemed to be happy that Calder was there and gave him the task of pulling a switch. Now he was back to being dirt.

He wasn’t going to just stand for that.

It was easy for him to walk to the door and fling it open, the lightening flickering out as it light the place. Jack this!

He slammed the door behind him, the force of which rattled the walls.

Malodore sighed inwardly - it didn't actually see Calder storm out, but it definitely heard the kelpie's words, and both heard and felt the door slam behind him. Just a bit too hard. This was to be a victory for him...

... and now it wasn't. Perhaps it had been Malodore's error; had Riley been there from the start, this would not have happened, surely? A little frisson of guilt crept down the plague doctor's spine, followed by a spark of frustration. It lowered its claws. Riley would detect... a roil of confused emotions. That frustration again, some directed at her, some at itself, and some at Calder. Why had she done that, and snatched Christof's joy away from him? The joy Malodore, at least, had worked so hard to cultivate? Was she that self-centered?

It was a spiteful little thought, shoved away quickly - and guiltily - by the rest of Malodore's conscious mind, but it was there.

"Careful with the door, it's auto- err, that's alright," Barth said as Calder slammed it behind him. Christof and Riley followed.

He still had the only light in the room, a single, warbling dot in the smoky kitchen.

And something, presumably lepusy, was lurking around. And not responding very well to vocal commands. Barth was still damp. And miffed. Not on Christof's behalf. He was irritated on his own behalf. He had been as respectful as possible with Riley and Christof's Contract, hadn't he? He hadn't asked after their project(s) whatever they were. He'd never interfered with her claim over Christof (and certainly defended it to Calder, because there were Rules when it came to Contracts, more sovereign and heavy than anything else that bound him and could bind him).

Calder and Maladore thought the problem was respecting Christof's decisions independent from Riley. Barth disagreed. If her Contract so dictated, she could do what she liked with him. She was entitled. He wouldn't have raised an issue over it.

But for Riley to be angry at being excluded from his Contract...

His Contract with Christof was, frankly, none of any other demon's business.

"Doctor," he said politely, "...I don't suppose you could light an additional candle or two. Before you leave. If you're leaving too. Unless you'd err, prefer to stay and help me find the results of the project before it drowns itself in the toilet."

The rain was comforting and like anyone going outside after being angry, he was taking a breather. The storm above and it’s electrified sky only calmed him, and he closed his eyes a moment as the storm rumbled above, the wind whipped his hair against his face and neck, and the water pelted his face and shoulders. Then he heard her.

Moss-green eyes parting, he turend to see Riley storm away. It seemed being uninvited had upset her, and while he had been happier that she hadn’t showed up at all, the damage was already done. It was true that he couldn’t put a blind eye entirely to the fact that he knew the feeling. Being left out destroyed a person, but it wasn’t as if she was kept away all of the time. In fact, out of all the times, he felt Riley was present for most everything when he saw Christof. He assumed the same for almost everyone else.

As she sped past, and while he could just narrow his eyes upon her and kick her while she was down, he only sent her a thought. Take it or leave it, but it was an opinion and one that, like most of his thoughts, had to be spoken.

"Moping looks ugly on you too, Riley. You have a lot of people who bend over backwards for you." He had just recently met Jericho after all and continued to notice the ever expanding circle of friends she collected. "…including Christof. That boil would kill for you. Stop being a little princess about every little thing when you are loved by so many.” It was genuine. He meant it. It was proven countless times that it was more or less fact and, honestly, Riley did not pull of grumpy that well.

His ears turned at the heavy grunting of an approaching Igor. “See. Always thinking of you. Always. What more do you want? He turned listening as Christof told him to go inside. Hmm. That didn’t seem like a very good option. Nope. He was heading to his dorm.

Riley was effectively ignoring Christof's cries, as far as her movement was concerned. In her unseen expression, however, she was tense with anger. Calder was right there, and Christof chose her to call out to.

It was the wrong choice. It had always been the wrong choice.

Calder's words, however, managed to root her in place. It was the truth - these people, these wretched people would do anything to make her happy. Almost anything. They chose to love her.

Again, it was the wrong choice.

Malodore had been right. She hadn't been running from it's thought because it was cruel - she had been running because it was right. Again. And she was tired of seeing her flaws through the plague doctors eyes. She had been happier when she was blind to them.

She was self-centered. The world did revolve around her, as far as she was concerned. And the disgust that Malodore's thought had expressed at the mere idea was nothing less than what she deserved.

Calder walked past her, headed for the same dorm she had been going for. She certainly couldn't continue along that route, at least not yet. He had cut off her one escape, and left her with no option but to stand in the rain and begin to sever the emotional ties she had tangled herself up in.

So she began.

When Calder was just out of sight, she swiveled around, eyes filled with blood. Her hand reached out, and the mark on Christof's chest sizzled with heat. Her hand clenched, and the mark seized up in pain, tugging him towards her. When he was inches away, she glared down at him in utter rage.

Follow. Him. She ordered. And forget about me, for once.

Christof was made breathless by the force of the mark- she hadn't given him a command in a while, and while usually the burning sensation was oddly intoxicating to the Igor, this time, he held his ground despite the smoldering, "I... I'm th-thorry, Mithtreth... I... I w-wanted... I wanted to thuprithe you... I... I w-wanted... I wanted you to be p-proud of me..." He managed in a weak voice. Finally, he took a step back, eyes trembling from her to her destination behind her as his eyes narrowed. She was going to see the Dragon, wasn't she?

His stomach twisted.

He swallowed, eyes lowering as he shivered in the rain. "I... I'd like you to come back too." Scarred mouth trembling, he finally turned to head towards the Kelpie like a good boy.

He was in trouble.

Maybe it was because of the tongue. Things never went well when he put on a tongue.

Back up in Barth's room, something darted past the flickering light of the candle in Barth's grip, vanishing again into the shadows. Circling. Deciding.

Was he.. disobeying her order? He stood there, talking to her. Talking. Her shoulders sagged a bit.

Did she have no chance at all?

As he finally managed to run off after Calder, her anger melted away with the rain, and the color in her eyes seeped out. They were wide, and rounded, as she stared in frustration at the ground. A moment later, her hands lifted and covered her face, as it crumpled in agony. The beating rain was a blessing, as the rain coursed down her skin and covered the tears that fell.

She couldn't just cut off her emotional ties, when it came to Christof. It wouldn't work. She would have to remove him completely from her life.

Her head lifted just slightly, eyes exposed to the elements as her hands remained on her face. In the silence of her own mind, she whispered a response that Christof would never hear.

I was, Christof. I was so proud.

She backed into the shadows of the buildings behind her, and she was gone.

Barth squinted. There was a clatter as Maladore agitated one of the numerous clutter piles.

"Don't bother about it. Christof-" would clean it up? No. That Contract was expired, and he wasn't on steady footing about the new one yet. "Err, I'll-" ...Scratch that. He certainly wouldn't be cleaning it. "...Don't bother about it, anyway. Did you see something go by, just then?"