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And suddenly, hair ruffling. Amarus winced as the bells in her hair jingled vigorously.
"One day I'll grow up to be a real boy, and we'll see who ruffles whose hair then, Mac!" she threatened, still grimacing. What was a trap? Wait, wait, he'd used it in a context before, whereby she was... okay, so it meant a ghoul that was actually a boil? Amarus' head hurt. It was too strange. Thankfully, as soon as Lizzy spoke again, Amarus' attention strayed from the confusion of Mac's hand-flopping and kelpie and trap and jacking all of the weird terms he was using which made her feel like everything was one giant skellyphone instructions list.


Amarus sort of stared at her for a moment, because she wasn't sure what to say to the ghoul, though she appeared to be in a good mood. Did she have anything to say at all? She'd have to say something because she had now been staring at Lizzy for an increasingly awkward, silent amount of time. "...I'm glad you accept?" she tried, taking a stab at this conversation thing. It was unnerving. Lizzy just had such a cute face, it was hard to make eye contact and form thoughts at the same time. Much less translate those thoughts into words or actions.


"He is awesome, yes, and wait can we just decide to get along? Does it work that way?" Amarus' eyes widened for a moment. If it really worked that way, she would be employing this strategy from now on. Let's get along! the obligation. .. On the other hand, Amarus was not explaining barf to Lizzy. That, she would leave Mac to do. "Who is Calder?" Amarus asked, confused yet again. And suddenly she was being patted on the head again, which was a very confusing feeling, but before she could so much as tell him off, Mac was gone.


"... that was fast," she muttered, watching him retreat. Now she was alone with Lizzy. "Uh... Hello again." And officially, awkward-mode engage! Amarus' face was back to being its usual mirror-blank slate, devoid of emotion. "Do you come here often? ... Lizzy, I really don't know what to talk about, all I ever do is destroy all the things and fight all the people. You don't seem like a destroyer or a fighter-- help me out here," she pleaded. At least she was still talking. All hope was not lost.

It was only going to be impossible if she entered the can't string a sentence together phase of being awkward.

A tilt of her head betrayed the confusion that didn't show through on dark features back the mask and lacy veil that draped elegantly along one side of her face. Number? Perhaps he was speaking of the eyephones she'd seen the students toying with why they'd been visiting the isles. She'd over heard them talking, mention 'texts' and numbers. Assume this to be true, and hoping she wasn't wrong, because how terribly embarrassing would that be, she chuckled softly. "I don't have a number to give." If it was a means of communication the boil was after, the priestess could offer a passable alternative. "But I'm not hard to find."

Wingapo he'd said. The language escaped her, but she knew a greeting when she heard one, and she gave a dip of her head in acknowledgement. "Like wise," She grinned. "And I owe you my gratitude for rescuing me from what would have otherwise, no doubt, been a relatively boring evening."

Hetero-chromatic eyes lit up a bit at his request for a dance, and that pleased little smile was quick to accent the curve of full, dark lips. "I would love to."

Things were turning out better then she could have hoped. Neru had only dared hope to find adequate conversation, a tolerable company at best, but here she'd managed to find a very interesting, and all around intriguing individual. Perhaps prom would prove to be a worth while endeavor after all.

Of course that perception shift mildly as another ghoul wandered up to the skinwalker and offered a tap on his shoulder. Bi-colored eyes narrowed slightly, losing whatever warmth they'd previous carried as the pretty undead girl said his name oh so questioningly, but it thawed as she watched the boil's reaction. They were friends, seemingly old friends at that.. From before he'd been enrolled perhaps?

For the moment the priestess stood there quietly and watched their reunion, a small, polite little smile lingering. Familiar insecurities prompting one dark hand to raise, fingertips running along intricate lace to be sure the veil was carefully in place over her one glowing eye.

“D…Dance for my dignity? I’m not the one wearing a dress!” He flustered. On the plus side he was quite sure he could muster a shimmy. Surely no one could shimmy quite as well as someone who was naturally a snake rather than a silly biped. Or course that could really be considered more of a ‘sway’ but little details like that seemed quite trivial.

He was still a little surprised to learn that Mai was missing, but strange things did happen.

“So…how do you know Remi? He asked his dance partner, wondering at least a little about this enthusiastic ghoul.

"Nevermind," the boil assured Junko as she looked up at him, worried. The last thing he really wanted to do was cause her more stress considering he knew how much she was already fretting over.. well, everything surrounding prom. She might not have been able to control the setting or the gnomes, but he would do his best to make sure there would be nothing to worry about from his end. "You're doing a great job, babe." His thumb brushed her cheek, cool against the warmth of her skin, and he bent as though he were going to give her another kiss, but be paused just before their lips met, head turning as he watched someone approaching them.

That someone turned out to be Mac, a smiling Mac. The jikininki offered the reaper a smile in greeting as he straightened out, one large hand coming to rest on Junko's shoulder. "Hey man, enjoying your evening?"

Although he hadn't made it much of a habit to get out of his room a whole lot over the last couple months, the boil had been aware of what had been going on between Junko and her friends. That included the situation between Her, Lizzy, and Lizzy's boilfriend. So needless to say the ghost boil was a little curious to see the boil approaching them in what looked upon first glance as a friendly manner.

Maybe the taps on his neck were...no, Alexander did not have a pulse, maybe he was saying he would not speak? Slapping his chest....he was talking about himself then. Grabbing for his throat? Or was it his tie? Did he want to go back to get a new one? Yin really would not put it past him.

Oh now he was coughing and pounding on his chest with a fist, whatever that meant. Oh Great Mantis he was choking! Yin immediately began to move to try to get behind him, knowing what he should do in this circumstance now that it was all pieced nicely together. Who knew that people that did not need to breathe could choke? But Alexander was waving him off so he paused for long enough to see that he was alright, his face filled with worry. "I am sorry I did not understand if I had just known of course I would have helped you Alexander. I am truly sorry," he was starting to babble slightly, and he felt like the absolute worst boilfriend in the world. Worst friend period in fact. And also entirely useless, as indicated by the fact that he was trying to hunch his shoulders more, though it made his suit uncomfortably tight across the back as Alexander fixed his outfit.

Yes, he was being punished, now he had to learn to dance. Trying not to look dismayed he nodded, not even the use of his full name masking the horror of what was to come. At least with training that was just in the gymnasium, and there were not that many that were actually there. "Lead the way Alexander."

An amused huff of air slipped past West's parted lips as his spine straightened again under her tail's scrutiny. "Didn't feel brainy," he admitted. He knew Levi was only teasing him, but if there was one thing this evening had proven, it was that he was horrible at keeping secrets. Maybe he should just... not. West swallowed. No, that wasn't going to work for him. Not yet.

He turned to her, the discomfort he was so clearly broadcasting melting away as a nasty little smirk lit his face in its place. "Who said y'were th'brains? Since y'like my hair so much, maybe I should be th'pretty one fer a while." The boil swallowed again when he realized what he had said, turning back to stare blankly at the crowd as some of the color leached from his cheeks.

West was quiet for at least a full minute, his expression carefully neutral. He silently berated himself for being soft and stupid and naive and speeding toward a fate worse than weaponization. Feelings sucked. No, they didn't. Yes. They did. The ones that weren't anger, at least.

"Always," he finally replied, clearing his throat into his fist as he faced her again. "So. What y'wanna do now? We've been standin'ere like dumbasses fer too long."

The irritation was still there, along with the voices, and Mengyao shook his head - an almost imperceptible gesture, a few strands of dark hair falling over his face. He could not quite define where exactly the irritation had come from, but it lingered there, in the back of his mind like a little fog.

A smile, slightly smirking, curled one corner of his lips upwards, Mengyao giving a short laugh. "Yes, I am well aware of that curiosity," he said, and he could still see the red that painted her cheeks, the blush obvious and blatant against her pale, pale skin. She was close now, stepping towards him until they were no more than a few inches apart, and Mengyao felt that strange constricting inside of his stomach again.

"Is something wrong?"

It was such a loaded question, Mengyao thought, his gaze locked with Lifen's. Without warning, he took a few steps forward and taking her with him until her back was against the wall of the hallway, and leaned forward, his forearms resting against the wall on either side of her head, essentially trapping her in place. He lifted his hand, his fingers finding the string that held her mask on and pulling on it, letting it fall away from her face so that he could see her expressions, despite his own being concealed.

"...there is always something wrong."