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Memories of that day came much easier to the demon boil. They came while he slept, when he daydreamed, even once while shopping for socks at the maul. Now that his cuts were cleaned out and sewn up and his arm was in a cast, the only real conscious emotion he felt when recalling the whole thing was anger. He wanted to find that half-dressed weirdo and slice her open with some reaper's scythe, then stuff her full of fruity sand. The fact that his heart raced and he found it difficult to breathe when he passed an Orange Ghoulius only served to boil West's blood further. Every so often, when the wind blew just right, he caught a whiff of the same smell on himself, and that was even more infuriating.

He had made a point of continuing to go to class even though his dominant hand was useless and his face looked like he had been making out with the spiky end of a rake. A lesser demon would have spent weeks whining in his room, but West prided himself on being stronger than that. He usually enjoyed displaying the results of his fights like bloody badges of honor, but then again, he also usually won those fights. If he had come across Jericho or, Jack forbid, Yaya, in his current condition, West sincerely doubted he would have been able to deflect their curiosity, and possibly, suspicion. Because of this, he had methodically kept away from places where students who knew him tended to hang out.

Botany class had just ended, and West was now making his way down a seldom used path back to the demon dorms, hood pulled tightly over his hair and a large portion of his face. Almost there. The wrath demon hurried around the back corner of his dorm, eyes widening a fraction as he caught sight of a very familiar expanse of sandy orange skin. His first reaction was to nimbly duck back behind the building. His second was to stomp his sneaker into the mud and clench his left hand into a fist, its fading music-stand-inflicted bruise now the least of his injuries. He was not going to hide from some brainless masked freak simply because his flight response appeared to be cranked up to eleven.

West rushed out of hiding and up to the Marrowstripe, a sneer on his lips. "I'munna kill you!" he spat, hand rising to hit the ghoul.

What the crap?! West could only stand up straighter, eyes almost comically wide, as the ghoul mirrored his movements then wrapped herself around him, acting for all the world like some lovesick chump at the Scarentine's dance. Surely this was better than getting the sense smacked out of him (which he swore would never happen again), but not by much. He had barely tolerated this closeness nonsense when he had been forced to endure it, and he certainly wasn't going to let this ghoul rub up against him now. He didn't even know her!

"I, um, can... gettoff!" he said, squirming and eventually pushing at her gritty hand in an attempt to get her to stop invading his personal space. "What's yer deal?" Her citrusy odor seemed to be coming from everywhere and West just wanted it gone. Her gone.

Once he had been able to think clearly again after their first encounter, West had come to the conclusion that the reason this ghoul had attacked him was because he had stolen her mask. Now he also realized that she had a... special brain and she seemed to lack the basic comprehension skills he had gained as a toddler. He managed to disentangle himself, stepping back and brushing at his shirt irritably. "Look, I'm sorry I took yer mask. Won't happen again. Now jus'... leave me alone, okay?"

He had almost turned to go when she began to have her minor breakdown, and its suddenness made West suck in a gasping breath and widen his stance, grounding himself in case she attacked again. It was doubtful he would survive a second assault, but... she didn't really look like she wanted to fight. It sort of seemed as though she actually remembered him, and her apparent recollection of his wounds certainly backed that up.

Someone with a bit more sense might have taken the opportunity to sneak away while she was distracted, but West was too curious about her to do that. If she wasn't going to slash him up some more, what was she going to do? Oh. Well, the last thing he could have anticipated was that she would issue an apology. Of course. She had taken his victory and now she was stealing his apologies as well? Did she not realize just how rarely he dropped those things?

"No, I'm sorry," he repeated, quite a bit louder this time. When he realized what he had said, West looked around sharply, making sure no one was within earshot of his words. "I tol'ja. I took your mask. You jus' defended yerself, I think." He looked down at her hand on his cast, then back up at her face, his eyes narrowed. "Um. It's okay." He spoke slowly, trying to make sure she really understood. "Don't do it again 'n'we're square."

West winced then shuddered slightly at the ghoul's disturbingly reverberating laughter. Tap tap tap. Would she care if he just walked away? She hadn't really seemed to have registered eighty percent of what he had said so far, and the stuff she had reacted to had resulted in some unexpected responses. Like that laugh. Ghhhghuh. Tap tap tap. West simply hated feeling this way, like a cowering... coward. Maybe he could try getting her expelled. Why did she seem so happy to see him? If anyone found out about this, he was going to... Tap tap tap.

"So, uh, what're y'doing? Ishud really b'goin'... um... homework. An'stuff. An'um sure ya got people t'maim..." He was rambling, he realized, but the ghoul didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was just... staring at him. No, that wasn't maddening at all. The boil's left hand balled into a fist and he brought it up, jutting a finger at her. "I'm not afraid'a you an'yer starin'." He paused and wrinkled his nose with distaste. "An'why I gotta smell like you now, huh?" He waved a hand in front of his nose, trying out a bit of delightful pantomime. "How do I gettit off?"

Jumping a little at her growl, the demon grimaced and stood up straight again a moment later. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing him fall victim to Marrowstripe PTSD all over the place, even if she didn't know or care just how apprehensive he still was around her. Apparently she just thought he was... silly?

"Am not!" West sneered. "This's all very serious!" He managed to keep still when she raised her finger to his face, but his head tilted slightly to one side like a confused animal a moment later as she grated her fingers together. At least, he thought with a measure of relief, he hadn't flinched.

"Yeah, th'sand. Gottit. But I cleaned ittall out." Or he thought he had. "Youcan still smell it? Why'd y'do that?" There was no way he would consent to being some crazy monster's property. He was going to have to transfer schools again, wasn't he?

West seemed to ponder her reply for a minute or two, his face set into its usual angry lines. First off, she had just spouted out more words than he had heard her say in... ever, and they were strung together in a way that he actually understood. That fact alone took at least 45 seconds to process and accept. Then there was her insistence that her smell was part of him now, at least that's what he assumed she meant. The thought made him itch all over again and he forced himself to take a deep breath and not punch.

"Y'know y'don't do that t'people. Whattif I dun want you't be able t'smell me all th'time?" he muttered to himself, not really expecting an answer. At least the crazy ghoul had good taste. He was pretty awesome. West shook his head and brought his hand up to rub at his eyes. It seemed there was nothing he could do about the situation now short of killing her and in a fair fight, he was almost certain she would win. Perhaps that was what irked him the most.

"Yanno, y'can't tell anyone 'bout our... little scuffle," he said. "Ifya promise, y'can see m'hair all y'like." He tugged at his hood, his horns catching and ripping the fabric as he removed it. Oh, well. He was due to take another trip to the maul soon anyway.

West smirked conspiratorially, still not coming to the realization that this ghoul had the short term memory of a gnat and wouldn't fully remember anything she said here, let alone recall the details of their fight to tell anyone in the first place. The sewn up gash on his cheek pulled down one corner of his mouth, but the wound didn't reopen.

Whoa whoa whoa! One minute West had been enjoying his personal space (much less than what a normal person would have given him while conversing, but still teetering in the acceptable range) and the next he was playing perch to a crazy nearly naked ghoul.

...

AAAAAAAAAA

He froze, attempted to shake like a wet dog, then froze again, biting back a curse. That hurt! West held his arms out like he was balanced on a high wire, torn between trying to slap at her and remaining completely still until she decided she was done with him. He supposed this meant she wouldn't tell?

"So. Yeah, uh, red." No. Wait. He probably shouldn't encourage her. "West. M'name's West. Tha's what y'should call me. Not Red 'r Boil 'r anythin' else. West." His left hand rose to the top of his head to brush at the sand she left behind, and he scowled as the portion of it that didn't stick stubbornly in place just fell in his face. He barely had to try to keep his balance. The ghoul was so light! "why dun y'weigh anythin' y'kook get down," he muttered mostly to himself, peering up at her and attempting to gently dislodge her every so often. No sudden movements. His horns were... important and she was in a position to royally screw them up.