It had been a needed walk, and one that Calder felt was well timed. He moved across campus, late at night, and ignored the dull throb of his hoof as he went. It was sad that only people be barely knew had addressed or noticed he had been injured. Christof hadn't noticed, but that had been the Igor. He didn't pay attention to what was going on around him. So dense. If it wasn't for the anger, the hatred he showed, or that pathetic shaking as if he was a kicked scareon, he would have thought he was emotionless at times.

He contained a shuddering breath as he wiped his eyes. What a stupid kelpie he had been. He was in a little world of demons and Igors. There were no monsters here. Maybe he should have stuck with his own kind and seen how well that worked out, but he desperately wanted to be in this group. Maybe too hard. Maybe it was like the fauns. Chasing after them as they taunted and clearly never being part of the main group. But this time it wasn't the way he looked, but what he was. A monster. He couldn't create contracts and thus was some lower citizen. He knew demons were up there in class. He knew that much just by being in Barth's dorm. The best of the best. Of course he was a poor consolation when standing beside Barth as a friend. He could offer no luxuries and provide no work that seemed to make the Igor shimmer with excitement. Unlike his hair, which he could make dirty, or his jacket he could leave torn, he couldn’t FIX being a monster. He didn't want to.

Sighing, he made it to the undead dorms, walking through and up the steps. He wondered if that one day he ran after the Igor in Etiquette Class had been a smart decision in the end. Then again, he'd probably still be friendless if he didn't. Moving up, he noticed the door was open and scruff was in the hallway sniffing about. When the scareon spotted him, it rushed to his feet, yipping and jumping about his feet. Not one for Scuff's antics, Calder tip toes around him. "Uhh…..down …thing. Dog. Scruff. Just…down. Okay, Okay. I get it. Happy. Happy. Just calm – Oh for the love of…" He held his breath and knelt down, giving the creature a few pets despite being on edge around it. Seeming to satisfy it just a bit, Calder wiped his hand free of any drool and went in.

The place was a dump, and not in the good way. "What the Jack?" He whispered, stepping in. Whatever had happened, it hadn't been pretty. Everything seemed all over the place. Stepping in, he cringed at the sight of several heads set perfectly lined upon the table and went over, frowning. As his eyes wandered to each one, he noticed the trash can and, leaning in, pulled out pictures of hands and lips and legs that made him wonder. "Christof….I have to wonder about you sometimes." He looked back at the heads. "You need to get our more. Honestly." He tossed the pictures back, turning to look at the tossed bed. It was clear Christof had been angry, and frowning, Calder reached down to pick up the jacket he had picked out. Discarded. "…and here I'm working a month to get you this. So much for that." He took the jacket, holding it to his chest and breathing out. He had been glad the boil enjoyed the dance at least, but it seemed less of a victory now. Turning, he gently set the jacket on the table with the heads and looked around for some clothes, opening a dresser to find the same stitched up garbs the boy preferred. Igor clothes. Work clothes.

He took out a set and then noticed that Scruff was still jumping around his legs. "Poor thing." He leaned down once more to pet the scareon. "I bet he doesn’t' even notice how much you care about him and miss him. Just up and left you without a second thought. He's an idiot, isn't he?" He sighed, looking around for something to feed the pet. Noticing a bag of food on a shelf, he went over and picked it up before going pale. Kibble. It had to be kibble.

He swallowed hard, and slowly, not looking, tilted the bag and let some of the questionable product dump into the creature's dish (Not horse. Not horse. Not horse.) and then put it quickly back on it's shelf. Done with that, he went to pick up the Igor's shoes and then take the set of clothes before heading out, but paused when he looked at the bathroom door that was slightly ajar.

Ear twitching, he slowed down, turned, and slowly walked over, nudging it with one of the Igor's shoes to open the door. It creeeeeeeeeaaaakkkkkeeedd open and like he noticed, the mirror was covered in a tossed shirt. Concerned, he moved over and set the boots in the sink before reaching up and yanking the shirt off. Nothing. Just him, staring back in the mirror. "Strange." He said, looking the mirror over. If he hated the reflection, why not shatter the glass? Get rid of the mirror? Why cover it?

Tossing the shirt back, he picked up the shoes. The poor scareon whimpered, not at all happy about seeing him go, but Calder sighed. "No. You can't come. Don’t worry. He'll be back." Guessing that a bed to sleep on might be nice, Calder set his things down again and went over to the bed, grabbing an end and working it before he could flip the bed back and then toss the mattress and blanket back on. It wasn't something he should have done, but he wanted to make sure Scruff had a place to nap – even if he didn't really like the little bugger.

"There. Take a nap." He suggested, and then took his things before shutting the door to the Igor's room. Turning, he slowly made his way back, leg a little more sore with unwise bed flipping, but it was a nice distraction to other, less physical pains.