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The maul was a somewhat terrifying place for Christof, bustling with people and ghouls and strangers and samples he couldn't eat or things he couldn't afford. Usually it took a specific mission to send him there, or he would strategically bring a friend for backup. Lately, though, he had been venturing in alone. It was for a mission, technically, but that did not make him any less anxious about it.

He had just one specific destination- The Chop Shop. It was a small hole-in-the-wall looking place, hidden amongst the shadier wing of the shopping plaza, bearing the appropriate symbol on it's window of Pawn-stores anywhere. It was a place where down-on-their-luck undeads could turn in an arm and a leg for some extra cash... literally. Or if you weren't able to afford the better, fresher Parts from the better Undead Boutiques and were not the grave-robbing sort, could get a quick replacement for cheap. As it stood, it was the best place the hunchback had found for a quick few spending seeds. He needed a new camshaft, and anything he found in the junkyard just wouldn't do. Several of these parts, he had discovered to his chagrin, had to be new.

He was big on recycling. New Parts were nerve-wracking. The elderly, green-skinned patchwork man who ran the place had grown accustomed to the mute hunchback, giving him a smile as he entered with his heavy sack of spare-lady-parts he knew Amrita would not need. He hated to part with them but... at least they would go to good homes.

And the old man did not ask questions. He also liked that.

He left the shop with a hefty bag of seeds rattling in his pocket, feeling accomplished. He had done this WITHOUT the help of any of his Masters. He had done it on his own. He would finish this on his own, too, with hard work and determination.

He was just making his way to the Mace Hardware store on the other end of the place when he spotted her.

He had never seen anything like it, his eyes nearly crossing and the opposite of crossing trying to focus on the odd, glitching spectrum of curves in that small body suite that left *very little* to the imagination.

Was... was she a student? Did she go to Amityville? He vaguely recalled glimpses of monochromatic in a classroom or two, but he had never really given a good *look* before... And those proportions... it was aggravating. No matter how hard he tried to look, he couldn't figure them out. Couldn't quite wrap his brain around whatever it was he was seeing. Creatures were supposed to be quantifiable! Categorical! UNDERSTANDABLE and measurable! Not... not... his brain was aching as he scrambled to hide behind a black, curling and half-dead fern, mind racing.

What did Calder say about ghouls? You just... complimented them and they would then want a kiss and then he could bring her back home to strap in his chair and study properly, right? Something like that...

Oh, Hell's Bells. He needed to find the courage first.

He jumped as he was spotted, a startled noise escaping the back of his throat as he shook his head to the first question, and then nodded to the second, his face a brilliant array of purples and greens and crimson.

The ghoul was talking to him.

Hell's bells hells bells hells bells okay just stay calm. That's what happened at the Maul, wasn't it? You... you met Ghouls. At least according to a certain Kelpie.

Right.

Just... just act "cool". He could do this. His hands rose instinctively now to start to sign, only to remember most people couldn't understand that. Drat. Okay. Back up plan- he scrambled in his coat pocket for his chalk board only to remember to his dismay he had left it on the counter in the pawn shop. But he did have a big bag full of seeds... what was one or two to impress a pretty- at least as far as he could focus on her flickering form pretty- ghoul. Could ghosts even be cut up? He was fascinated to find out.

With a tight noise in the back of his throat, he tried to straighten a bit (as much as he could,) and tuck his disheveled hair behind his ear (it was still disheveled) before timidly pointing to the smoothie kiosk nearby before pointing to her and patting his pocket. This was punctuated by a very nervous, somewhat trembling, stitched smile.

He was somewhat shocked and relieved when she took his arm and they were *actually moving towards the smoothie booth*- he had successfully caught the attention of an... interesting... female. Living. More or less. Animated at least, and definitely in a literal sense of the word. He couldn't stop staring as the sight of her seemed to flicker, his head aching from his eyes trying to keep track.

He was dimly aware that she was talking, but as far as he could follow she hadn't asked any questions... good, that was good. He was making progress! Usually ghouls seemed oddly anxious around him. It wasn't fair. Malodore had said this was a perfectly natural feeling for boils his age, why would they be so skittish?

As they took their place in line, he fumbled with his small sack of seeds, counting out a few as he eyed the prices... THAT many for flavoring and crushed ice in a cup?? Well... well for the ghoul.

Maybe he'd even get a kiss out of it.

Christof could only blink as his supposed 'date' suddenly vanished. And then reappeared. Or at least... partly reappeared. Or... something. It was like when he accidentally broke Barth's video game system that time and frantically tried to fix it before the Sloth Demon woke from his nap. But... how was that possible? What... WAS she?

Once she reappeared again, continuing on as though nothing odd had happened, he could do nothing but frantically nod, giving her a weak smile as his brain raced to try to digest what he had seen.

She was a ghost, wasn't she? But she seemed tangible enough... Very odd. Very odd indeed.

Christof nodded, and then blinked. Wait- HE didn't need a drink! What would he even do with it?? Before he could so much flail to stop her, the deed was done and not wanting to seem cheap (or rude) in front of the interesting ghoul he was trying to impress, he shuffled forward to silently offer out the seeds.

Almost immediately he was left with two drinks, glancing at both before offering them out to her with a weak eager smile.

Christof blinked at his psudo-"date" in baffled horror. Sure he could probably get away with cutting a stitch or two temporarily but with a reaction like that... was it safe?

Images of Hyde's Cruel-Aid flickered in his mind and he gave a shudder. Well. Maybe just... a try. He didn't try foods nor beverages very often... what was the harm?

As though she had asked him to swallow a slug, he slowly, methodically pulled the pen knife from his pocket, watching her flickering image carefully as he raised it to his lips and did the deed as though ripping off a bandaid. As though unsure if he was doing it right, he then carefully guided the straw into the freshly made hole. Without a tongue, the taste was lost on him, but it was indeed cold. Still staring at her, he drew in a mouthful of the icy tasteless liquid before swallowing.

And instantly regretted it.

The hunchback gave a low, long whine, rapping on his skull with a fist frantically. Oh it HURT IT HURT WHY WOULD PEOPLE DRINK COLD THINGS IF IT HURT??