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It had been an eventful week for West. Between experiencing his own death—or what he deemed was as good as his own death—and almost making out, with definite makeout prospects in the future, the boil needed a distraction more than ever. He barely had any schoolwork with the... whatever it was they were doing with the Horsemen coming up, and there were only so many hours he could sit in his room thinking about death and makeouts.

To the fitness club!

The demon rounded the corner rather quickly, skidding to a stop when he saw the purple-haired boil looking over the place. West recognized Kettil, but only superficially. He might have recalled the reaper's anger if it had been present, but even West had to admit it was probably hard to be angry over a bunch of stair climbers and treadmills.

"Hey, uh.." he began eloquently, "Dun mind me." West's gaze lingered on Endzela as he carefully arranged his towel and water bottle on a bench near his favorite punching bag. He had been around plenty of familiars in his day, but hadn't ever really carried on a conversation with one. He wondered if it was anything like having a particularly persistent minipet, but decided it probably wasn't. West shrugged to himself and brought a hand up to where the bag hooked into the low ceiling, checking to make sure it wasn't going to detach and whack him in the face.

Done checking the punching bag, West's hands dropped back to his sides as he turned to look at the owl again. "Safety's not really somethin' I worry 'bout," he replied.  "We're s'posta be 'ere with someone else when we come anyway.  Y'know, buddy system."  He chuckled to himself and shook his head, his thoughts on coming here with a buddy made clear by his reaction.  "You two can be m'buddies today."

He stepped back around the bench, approaching the pair again.  "Lookin' t'join the Fitness Club?" he asked.  "Haven't had many meetings lately, with all th' human invasions'n crazies traipsin' through."  West kept his eyes on the owl, still sort of fascinated by her.

Had the sudden compliment come from a particularly forward ghoul he had just met instead of a fluffy owl, West might have frowned and grumbled something vaguely cruel or nonsensical to hide his embarrassed discomfort. Instead, he grinned at the other boil's reply and the owl's correction.

"Thanks, uh, Endy? West. Yes. That's me. Nice... t'meet you both too." The pleasant greeting sounded slightly strange coming from the demon's mouth, but at least the oddness didn't stem from insincerity. It was nice to meet them. Because... owl. "'M not sure, t'be honest. Fitness's run by Riley. But it's'not like there were tryouts'r nothin'. I'm sure when things cool off she'll have us runnin' round again. Last time there were guns." He seemed a little too pleased by this aside, to be honest.

Guns. West was not a good shot by any means, but they were still loads of fun to use... and be shot by, surprisingly enough. Even though he couldn't help but feel pouty around Mot's weapons, the boil was actually on the verge of recognizing that the emotion he felt toward them was jealousy coupled with a certain grudging respect, rather than outright hatred. To be able to ******** someone up from afar was almost as awesome as doing so by hand.

"Yeah, fitness club definitely," he replied. "I hear there's bruteball n' maceball around somewhere too, but I dunno who runs 'em." Truth be told, West wasn't all that interested in organized sports, no matter how violent. "An' if there's somethin' y'wanna play, you can start a team fer it too." He shrugged. West was also not the "responsible enough to be president of a club" type.

Picturing West in a monocle and top hat was probably not something anyone did readily, but the tone with which he uttered, "Why yes, I do," might have made it easier in that moment. "I do both. Lots. Never tried t'start a club fer either though." Even though there was a cliff-diving club and some Halloween sports were far from face friendly, he couldn't see the faculty approving something that so blatantly advocated student-on-student beatings. He could imagine not everyone at this school would join for educational reasons. He wouldn't join for educational reasons.

"D'you? Fight much, I mean?"

Brothers. Hm. West had always been and likely always would be an only child, and he had never really thought much of the benefits a brother or sister might have afforded. How they might have fought, he and this nonexistent sibling. It warmed his heart.

"That's good," he said. "Not the... uh... picture frame, I guess." West didn't give a crap about Kettil's mom's picture frame, but he still couldn't help himself. He wanted to remain on Endy's good side. Because. Owl.

The demon punched his fist lightly into the palm of his opposite hand and shifted his weight, suddenly out of things to say. "Well. I'm gonna be..." the demon pointed, "over there punchin' things. I'm sure I'll see ya 'round now that we know each other." West didn't think he was any worse with names than anyone else at this school, he just never went out of his way to learn many in the first place. With a nod, he made his way back over to the punching bag he had been examining earlier, giving it another once over. "An' if y'ever wanna hit somethin', I'm always up fer that."

He smirked. Awkward, yes. But he'd never been very good at ending conversations, no matter how pleasant. The pair received a little wave as they left, then all of West's attention was back on the punching bag.