Some things never changed.

Herbert had responded to Sharra's relocation with the most epic of freymon temper tantrums.

The little bratling had been somewhat mollified when Sharra had been at home, after all, home meant the aunties, and the aunties always tended to spoil their nephew's pets; giving them snippets of food from the table, scraps when baking, and lots of scritches (for those pets so inclined to those sorts of things). Herbert was particularly a glutton for spoilage.

Just not from Sharra.

They hadn't been back in the dorms five minutes before the spiky creature was gnawing his way into the boil's satchel, hell-bent on devouring a textbook or two out of sheer spite. His owner had taken him from all things good and thrust him back into this bachelor pad of a room. Making a disgruntled churring noise when Sharra picked him up, the freymon's spines flared and all four legs paddled in the perfect picture of minipet rage, impotent though it was.

"C'mon, Herbert...you can't eat that." The nergal rather disgustedly put him back in the carrier that he'd brought him from home in, and he could see the tiny fellow huff unamusedly, and start snuffling in corners, sulking until his owner saw fit to remedy the situation. He was not pleased, and he would continue to be displeased, and there wasn't a damn thing that Sharra could do about it! There was, after all, only one concrete solution to the freymon's irritation.

And that solution was a person whom Sharra was afraid to approach just now. For all that he feared the reception of his teachers and friends, the ghoulfriend who hadn't received a letter from him in weeks now, that was the welcome (or lack thereof), that the blond demon feared the most. In fact, he was rather wondering if it might not be somewhat wise to carry Herbert upon meeting the ghoul, at least then one of them would be pacified, and if Yaya had her hands full she would be entirely less likely to hurt her boilfriend. That is, if they were still boil and ghoulfriend.

Ah, Jack, that wasn't even a thought that he wanted to contemplate. Rubbing at his sleeve in self-contemplation, eyes rather vacantly regarding Herbert's antics, he rather mused that Yaya had every right in the world to beat the ever-loving s**t out of him. It would be her right, after all this time. He still had her letters, after all, the very last one he'd kept in his pocket, wondering when his heart and mind would formulate the response to her questions, her worry.

She was worried for him. Hell, Sharra was worried for him. Though after these weeks of silence, she was entirely likely to give him the ripping that he deserved. If such was her desire, he would let her. Weeks...months even, that he'd simply let her worry, not even dropping a simple 'I'm fine.' that would have been enough, mayhap. A few words to tell her that he loved her. For he did, in the most earnest of fashions.

But he hadn't even managed that. And now he was kicking himself for it. Returning to school had, at least, given him an ounce of determination that his placid life with his aunts had failed to provide. He'd walked through the Fright Night booths on his way in, the festival on it's last legs, about to wrap up. Mayhap he'd help them clean and redeem himself a bit, chatter with familiar faces, get news on the latest gossip and introduce himself to the new students. There were so very many of them now, after all...in fact old friends seemed few and far between.

Herbert then made an angry noise, jolting Sharra out of his thoughts... the freymon was now vibrating in his fury, nose pressed betwixt the bars of his carrier as he gnawed on them in a futile effort to escape. Rolling his eyes, the demon boil snapped the door open, plucking the cranky animal from his confines. "You're just mad cuz I'm not pretty..." He teased softly, bemused at another huff from the irate ball of spikes. Herbert most assuredly preferred the ladies.

Yes. Yes, life would definitely become less stressful once he made his amends.

And he would. Even if he had to get down on one knee and take the blows he oh so very royally merited.

Pulling out his Eyephone, he unlocked the screen, realizing his heart still skipped a beat at his background...the two of them, a rather coupley, sappy photo. Sharra felt a nervous tingle skitter its way up his spine, the spikes on his arm and shoulders rustling as they rose and fell with his emotion.

He'd text her. He'd text her the very second he was done helping the others clean up.

Herbert, forepaws on Sharra's arm, leaned to nose at the screen, looking up to his master with a soft churr, the most agreeable he'd been since aunt Olivia had kissed the freymon goodbye.

"Yeah. I know. We'll go see her soon, ok?" Stroking Herbert's nose, he put the pacified creature down on the floor. Hopefully there would be no more chewing, at least...until he returned.