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Roch had no clue what had happened. In fact he was lounging on his bed in only a pair of jeans, playing on his eyephone. He'd picked up a new app and was driving a little motorcycle on lines that curled around, flipping him upside down and killing him more often than not. He probably had homework to do--he probably even had a class he should be going to, but that had never stopped him before.

He muttered something dark as his little motorcycle crashed again, then flipped off the app to check groanspring real quick before surfing the net just for the hell of it.

Music was playing on his stereo--which wasn't surprising. It was also, unbeknownst to him, extremely fitting.

Roch blinked, then said (a bit awkwardly with his face smooshed by her hold) "Get him back from where? If he's captured by hunters I say they can keep him."

Hot ghoulfriend straddling him and talking about Lou. What a day, he thought dryly.

There were like, so many different things going on that the punk boil had a hard time figuring out what he should be focused on--what, with her bouncing on him, then the boob ride--

Wait--

"He rode in your boobs?" he asked. "How the hell do you--" And he went a bit red when asking this, because let's face it, he's a seventeen year old boil. "Skip warning the ghouls, why don't I just murder him a few times?" he asked, trying to sit up.

"Eh, even them if y'off them enough times they don't come back--" he said, which was a terrifying fact that he seemed to take for granted. But then he stared at her.

"Shoes. First--he's got a shoe fetish? That was WAY more than I needed to know, plus, it don't solve the problem of tellin' the other ghouls about his little bat trick." He gave up trying to sit up, his mind rushing.

"Did y'happen t'get a picture of his bat form?" he finally asked.