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Directly after dropping Freya off after their little shopping date, Herryk bee-lined straight to this Mookey's dorm. There was some massive pain that needed the be slapped down on this Freya-kissing, Lizzy-heartbreaking little s**t, and Herryk was in the mood to shove his fist far down the reaper's throat. Problem was, Herryk couldn't exactly remember the dorm room that Mac supposedly lived in. It had taken Herryk four attempts to find the correct door. He'd also had to ask, "Mac?" each time someone answered, because he wasn't quite sure what the boil looked like.

It was taking a lot of determination to keep himself from growing in size. The rage was burning deep in his chest, and when his emotions were running high in the anger spectrum it was hard to keep himself normalized.

Lifting up a large fist to knock against the door, Herryk waited for an answer. When the door swung open, Herryk uttered one word.

"Mac?"

For a snap second Herryk stared down at Mac. He was so small and scrawny with curly ghouly hair. Herryk gave a small 'hmph'-like grunt. This was the boil that had kissed Herryk's beloved? This was the boil that had made Lizzy cry? This boil?

What a joke.

The next thing Mac would see would be a massive beefy fist aiming straight for his face. No holds barred. Herryk was going to take great, great pleasure in beating the jacking s**t out of this curly-haired ghoulfriend kisser. Yes, he was going to enjoy the sound that his fist would make against Mac's nose. It would be music to Herryk's ears.

Oh, that had felt good. That had felt real good.

Herryk ignored the fact that Mac was talking. He took a step that carried him into the boil's room before he promptly kicked the door closed behind him.

"Get up," Herryk snarled, looming over the prone reaper. "Get up so Herryk can punch Mac again. That last punch? It was for making Lizzy cry. The next punch?"

Herryk leaned down, teeth bared.

"The next punch will be for kissing Herryk's beloved Freya."

The delivery of the first punch, while satisfying, did not quench the fire that burned in Herryk's chest. Lizzy was not why Herryk was here. It was just why Herryk had punched him the first time. When Mac spoke about Freya, though...

There was a moment that Herryk's brow dipped down just the slightest. The thought that Freya had willingly kissed this boil had a whole new set of emotions to roiling around in Herryk's gut. A mixture of despair, sadness, and a bit of rage all settled in Herryk's stomach. It sat there, festering, while Herryk tried to decide how to feel. It didn't take too long.

Mac was lying. There was no way that Freya would kiss this boil. Not after the night of Sif's wedding.

"There is no reason to lie, Mac." The words were hissed in a serpentine fashion, Herryk's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Why would Freya want to kiss Mac when she has Herryk to kiss?"

Tickling him? Taking a picture? Bringing this boil chocolates?

...Freya had never brought Herryk chocolates.

...that was probably because he didn't eat much, but --

"Stop distracting Herryk with stupid words and filthy lies. Freya would not wander into a strange boil's room and tickle him or bring him chocolates or kiss him. And what does Mac wonder?" Herryk snorted. "Freya is not into ghouls." The way Herryk spat the word out intoned that yes, Herryk was very much calling Mac a ghoul.

He nudged the boil's leg with a booted foot. Roughly.

"Now get up, Mac, so Herryk can punch Mac's filthy lying mouth."

Herryk was going to kill this boil.

The draugr followed Mac as he tried to slip away, to put some distance between himself and Herryk. It wasn't going to work. There would be no evading this confrontation. Herryk's form shifted -- larger, broader -- and yet it flickered between this larger size and his normal height. It would seem as if the draugr was grappling with what little control he was holding on to.

Until Mac talked about Freya finding someone else.

Herryk lifted up a foot, fully intending on delivering a hearty stomp to Mac's torso. If the other boil slipped away, the massive foot would crash to the ground. Herryk didn't want to miss. He wanted to feel that soft belly give way, he wanted to hear that forced exhalation of breath, he wanted to hear those bones snap and splinter.

"That was for kissing Freya since Mac is too much of a ghoul to stand up!"

Herryk glanced down at his bloodied boots. A trophy, of sorts.

"Does Mac have anything else to say?" Herryk nudged the boil with his foot, not as roughly as he had before, and yet there was nothing gentle about the gesture.

"Anything else to say about Freya? Or Lizzy? Talking about this stupid Mac made Lizzy cry, and so Herryk is even more sure that Mac is nothing but a filthy stupid liar."

Herryk moved into a crouch, peering at the boil he'd previously taken great pleasure in mashing into paste. He ignored the words about Freya lying. He would bring it up with her later. Perhaps this boils determination to stick to his words held meaning. Herryk didn't know. It didn't matter. Freya hadn't really ... lied... she'd just.. if what Mac was saying, she'd just held back the truth. For Herryk, probably, because she didn't want to ruin their date.

And maybe the sky would rain down hot chocolate and mushroom marshmallows.

"For Lizzy's own good? Lizzy does not seem good, boil. Lizzy does not seem good at all."

Focusing on Lizzy helped Herryk tamp down the hurt that blossomed when he actually thought about Freya lying to him.