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Nahm was bored. His last class for the day had let out, and he had nothing and nobody to do. And he was only slightly hungry, for once. He supposed he could go find Junko, see if the pretty ghoul could be coaxed into letting him "help" with a batch or two of spookies.

With this half-formed goal in mind, he ambled lazily towards the dorms. However, before he could actually make it onto the path down to the dorms themselves, he spotted a familiar mohawk. A toothy grin spread across his face, and he promptly changed course to come up behind Roch and drape himself over the other boil's shoulders. "How's my favorite reaper today?" he said into Roch's ear.

"Ouch. I am wounded to the core," Nahm grinned, and clutched his chest dramatically. "I'm doin' good - no, I was sleepin' at the time. I hear it ruined a bunch of peoples' days, though. Were you there?"

"Sounds like you're a dangerous kind of guy to be hanging out with," Nahm retorted, and elbowed Roch friendlylike. "Dying all the time and that. So far no deaths here. Yet." He didn't sound terribly concerned about the prospect; whether that was genuine carelessness or a facade was unclear.

"I kinda like it here. Just exchanging one nuthouse for another," he said cheerfully.

"Oh, you did?" Nahm grinned back, completely shameless. If he'd been going to be embarrassed about his little performance, he wouldn't have gotten up on stage in the first place; on the contrary, he knew exactly how ridiculous the whole thing had looked. That had been part of the point. "You want lessons? I could totally teach you how. I mean, you don't have to wear the tutu if you're not secure enough in your masculinity, but ghouls like boils who can dance."

"Awesome," Nahm said, and stepped right up into Roch's personal space, taking one of his hands and putting the other on his waist. "Ballroom style's always a good bet." Then he paused. "Works better with music, though."

"You raise a very valid point," Nahm said. "Hmmmmm." He let go, then rummaged through his pockets for his eyePod. "Here we go, works better with the music either way." The eyepod went on top of a nearby decorative tombstone, the outer robe got tossed on the ground next to it, and the grue assumed a ballet pose as the tinkling music started up again. "C'mon, follow along," he grinned.

"Yeah, that works." Shuffle shuffle shuffle. "The routine starts at stage right, comes out into the middle of the stage first, then a deep knee bend, like so." They were attracting a small audience now. Nahm remained unfazed by the fact, continuing his instructions and demonstration.

"Either that or throw silver seeds," Nahm added over his shoulder at the spectators. "This is fine performance art right here. Show some appreciation." He did a pirouette, grinning madly, and balanced on one toe, then went into a series of leaps. If Roch was paying attention and had a decent memory, he'd notice that the routine matched the one that Nahm had performed on stage. Had the grue actually practiced this?