Welcome to Gaia! ::

It was a long haul from the Demon dorms back to the Undead dorms, but after some more fiddling the contraption no longer horribly slaughtered the creature tossed inside. Hopefully it was fireproof. He was a bit unkeen about testing that. With any luck... well in theory it shouldn't be able to. Barth's designs were sound. He had total faith in that aspect at least.

He stopped in a common area alcove in the hallway near the steps to the basement and upper levels, staring at the letter he had started to write... and stopped, and started over, and started again, and now needed to finish.

There was that feeling again, creeping up under his skin- helplessness, uneasiness, like he was under water and had no idea what the Jack to do. Communication was never one of his comfort zones, anyway.

Hopefully the gift itself would be the thanks she needed.

Christof flinched, nearly falling over when the pup rammed into his legs, but relaxed some once he recognized the white fur. Crumpling the letter in his hand, he glanced around frantically and spotted the plague doctor approaching. His face flushed and he almost immediately stooped again to heft the heavy contraption, eager to show he was indeed following Riley's orders. He didn't need anymore reprimanding just then. He was being a good boy.

The hunchback flinched, wobbling a bit with his heavy load as he glanced up to the plague doctor shyly. Oh hell oh fear oh hell he was still angry with him wasn't he? Another minion of Mistress Riley- her favorite minion, above even Christof or the Dragon Boil. He'd always been a hair intimidated by the red-clad creature, but obsessively admiring. It hadn't spent much time alone with it, not since their time in the graveyard before... that dreaded Christmas play. It's advice over groanspring and at the dance had been helpful though...

He hesitated, gingerly setting the heavy thing down again to lurch up to what Igors generally referred to as "at attention", arms at his sides, hunch properly uneven, eyes glued to the speaker's face with proper intent.

Christof tried to process this new information with furrowed brows and a baffled expression. The Italian was lost on him but... It... it did want his help? It must not have been paying enough attention if he thought he was a good Igor, and his eyes lowered to the floor with red-faced embarrassment, fingers twisting anxiously. Malodore had put him back together more than once now... he really was in it's debt, especially if people kept getting this angry with him and things kept attacking the school yard... He shifted, tapping his fingertips together in a nervous gesture before gingerly pointing to his chest, then from the device, down the steps, and then after another pause down the hallway towards his dorm, and then up again in the direction it knew Malodore's room was before tapping his stitches. As though that would help clarify. At least Barth and Amrita both seemed fairly good at his charades, he had no other choice at this point.

At least he was still freshly showered and properly dressed now, thanks to his.... friends.

He nodded to the first question, but paused at the second.

There was a twitch at the corner of Christof's roughly stitched mouth and his eyes narrowed a moment as though trying to comprehend what the Plague Doctor could possibly mean. Of course this was for Amrita. He had hurt her and he had been strictly instructed to go make things better and... and he wanted things Better. And he wanted his Mistress to be happy with him again. Two times he'd seen those red eyes now and he was fairly convinced he did not want to see them again. Finally, he nodded again. Swallowing nervously, his fingers fidgeted once more before he squatted down and gingerly pushed it towards the creature for it's inspection. Sure, Barth had drawn up the blueprints, but those had been... the recipe, he felt, it was what you actually ended up throwing in at the end that brought the Parts together, and he was somewhat proud of the end result.

((THE DICE IS THERE JUST TO FREAK SOSI OUT. 20 MEANS LUCE IS HORRIBLY MAIMED JUST LIKE THOSE CARROTS.))

Christof flushed at the compliments, patting his leg to see if Luce would come to help him illustrate. Hopefully his repairs had done the trick... he had all confidence in his fiddling and tweaking, showing barely a look of anxiety as he hefted the little white pup onto his lap on the floor, holding his hands behind her back with a "HURRRRRRM!", his best attempt to illustrate Amrita's horrible little Death Charm. That part of the charade complete, his hands only hesitated a hair as he pulled open the spring-loaded door, checking to make sure that indeed that relocated bolt would hold even if the pup struggled, and set her inside. With a snap, the door closed and clicked locked with a little latch on the side.

And the puppy completely failed to be turned into mince meat once he went to try to open the door once again to let her out once his illustration was complete.

((JKJKLOLOL))

He nodded again, fidgeting anxiously before glancing down the steps, a hand instinctively moving up to scratch at the mark under his fresh but still yellowed shirt. He fidgeted as though debating something before pulling the crumpled paper out of his coat pocket again and timidly offering it over for him to proof read. Hopefully it would make things right again, right? Riley had said to make her feel like a Queen. He wasn't sure what Queens felt like, he assumed very stressed on account of running the country for the King who was busy with all those other things Kings had to do like going to Jousts and Knighting people and Banquets and the like. Hopefully, though, it would help... settle things between them. He hoped so, at least. It would be nice to get a second opinion, and he was a bit glad now that he had run into the Plague Doctor.

The hunchback relaxed some, looking relieved, and lifted the paper onto the hallway wall to quickly cross out the bit at the end as commanded. There, now it was perfect! A working machine he had all but had to torture out of Barth's help for, unfortunately elongating their contract a bit more, but it was all worth it at the end. Just paperwork. He liked it, though, the feeling of the marks, it was a nice constant reminder of where his loyalties lay... but undead couldn't make marks. There was nothing but your own gut instinct to help keep you on track. The concept worried him.

He shifted as he now carefully smoothed out the letter and folded it neatly in three before tucking it into the bars of the door of the cage. That done, he straightened, glancing at Malodore timidly a moment before reaching into his pocket for the small, smooth coin-like object. Rubbing it with his thumb, he managed to duplicate it carefully, pulling this out to Malodore with an uneasy expression. It was the first time he had handed one of his own buttons out. He wondered if this was how Demons felt... but without the infused obligation.