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Horace had heard things about submarine duty. Namely that if he was lucky, he'd get stuck with a hunter who bathed regualrly (or be alone entirely, which was preferable) and that he'd be bored. It was close quarters, and lots of blue water and nothing else. So, in preperation, Horace had dragged out a copy of Romancing Mister Bridgerton to while away the time. The cover was unfortunately a distinctly feminine light purple with large, clean lettering. But Horace liked happy endings, and if romance novels had one thing going for them, it was the guarantee of a happy ending.

He stepped through the portal with a yawn, wearily wondering if maybe today he should've braved that prototype coffee pot from Life. The coffee had gone back to a mostly normal color, but it bubbled alarmingly. Recently, he hadn't even tried it - it seemed like a waste of actual coffee grounds. The absence of caffeine gave me some godawful headaches though. He popped his shoulder and looked around the room. Ah, not alone today.

"Hello," he said, swinging into the chair next to the other man. "I'm Horace. Horace Nokoni." A beat, and then, with clear longing in his voice. "Where did you get that coffee?"

The way Melvin enjoyed his coffee was positively torture. Well, not exactly, but to a caffeine-starved boy, it sure was close. He sighed and resolutely looked away for a long moment, although his leg began to bounce up and down restlessly. He looked back at the other man curiously. somebody had told him not to trust Life (both the division and the state of being, he supposed). Dark shapes moved in the water far, far away from them both - things with too many tentacles, maybe. It was hard to tell and easy for eyes to trick themselves from that distance. He looked back at the composed man next to him.

"Actually, I got a prototype coffee pot from them, but it turned some coffee purple and well... it bubbles alarmingly. Didn't seem entirely safe to put in my body, after all." Horace shrugged ruefully. He would risk a lot for coffee, but there was still a limit. Clearly, he'd have to get a regular one altered or something. "I feel like I'm always a bit tired, lately - not quite used to the island life, I guess. Makes me long a bit too much for caffeine," he openly admitted. Coffee, tea, even caffeine pills would be alright. Horace supposed it was better to just let his body adjust to life without it, but still.

"Are you a part of Life, Melvin?"

Horace seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. "Or the 'coffee' could make them grow tentacles or a third eye." Tentacles could probably be useful, depending on their location, elasticity/strength, and precision of control. A third eye not as much, unless it allowed the possessor to see heat signatures or.... x-ray vision. Or something. "...maybe I will leave the coffee out." There was only one small, blond Life hunter that he would particularly like to drink it - in the interests of science, of course. Considering the lack of laws on the island, Horace imagined some hunters got away with a great many things as long as it was labeled 'research'. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out his notebook and jotted down those few thoughts down in quick, neat shorthand.

"Oh, I'm in Death. Fortunately, not as morbid as it sounds. Paperwork division and all that." Idly, he snapped one of the plastic bracelets on his wrist. "Who thought up the names of the division, I wonder... And, sadly, I haven't enough money to get anything at all runic'd. I'm so fresh and clean that I haven't gotten paid yet. I need to find more income, though." Horace thought of Jan and the nice places, nice expensive places that would fit Jan like some odd glove.

"I want to take my friend somewhere nice on leave. I owe him." For some reason, this window to the ocean did not bother Horace. Perhaps because it was more like looking into a large aquarium. He turned to Melvin. "So how long have you been on the island? Long enough for coffee, at least."

"I love paperwork, to be honest. It's nice knowing that every bit of information can be neatly slotted away, has its own place," he said happily. Before school had soured, people would pay him to write their papers and organize their works cited page. One senior had even paid him an oddly heftly sum to write, address, and send their graduation notices. It was from these things alone that Horace had any money at all. And he still hadn't been shopping for Christmas.

Horace dragged his ankle onto the opposite knee, orange sneaker bouncing. "Hmm, I guess life expectancy dramatically changes once you come to the island. I guess I'm too new to have any ambitions beyond continuing to live." He looked at his nails, short and filed neatly. Sighing, he rubbed them along his thighs; since he'd starting maintaining them, he couldn't bring himself to ruin it by chewing on them like he used to.

"I've only been on one mission - in Russia. I didn't die, so that's good." Horace shrugged and clicked the barbell in his tongue against his teeth. "Why - have you done quite a lot?"

Horace frowned slightly at Melvin's tone. Maybe Life didn't get around to missions very often and he had somehow wounded the other man's pride. It did seem to be a very prideful sort of island, thus far. Kind of exhausting, really. "Too busy researching for most missions, I guess." It wasn't a bad thing - someone had to research. And Horace rather thought that perhaps the smartest minds should stay mainly on the island. At Melvin's next question, he shrugged and tucked his hair behind one ear.

"Nah, I'm only seventeen. Worked at an amusement park every summer and used to write people's papers and stuff during the school year. I just like the... the sense of organization, you know?" Something flickered far away in the ocean. If monsters were real, there was likely kraken and evil giant angler fish. "But I'd have liked to eventually become a secretary or something. What'd you do before coming here?"

"Mmm, well, I can't say I miss my high school, really." He shrugged and listened with interest as Melvin talked. The fields of science he had studied didn't seem as though they'd be applicable here, sadly. Though, he guessed that monsters brought their own brand of disease. When Melvin asked about his home life, he stiffened slightly and quashed the urge to touch the line of cigarette burns along his collar bone. That wasn't 'home life' anyway. Instead he smiled and forced out a chuckle. "Nothing of the sort. I just did not have a reason to stay. How does parasitology translate into Deus stuff? If it does, that is." He saw the empty coffee cup and sighed wistfully before looking back up at Melvin.

Something in the man's voice had given him pause, and his gaze turnd sharply curious. "Do you regret it then - coming here?"

"And have the answers you've found here been worth it?" He peered intently at Melvin for a moment and then laughed lightly, waving the question away.

"I think everybody has regrets, of a sort. People left behind or places. Things you might've said but weren't allowed to." He shrugged, a sort of wistfulness passing briefly over his features. Horace couldn't say he missed things, not yet, not while he was still new and overwhelmed by the sheer amount of everything he had to process. But he knew his grandmother missed him, even though her life would be easier without him. Idly, he wondered what the kids in school had thought. He hoped they felt awful.

He tapped his fingers along his pocket. "Runics studies? Is that making runic stones and stuff? Forgive my not knowing - still got a lot of information to digest." He grinned a little sheepishly. Horace hated not knowing things, and he was well aware that asking questions made him look a little stupid sometimes. But if he didn't ask, he wouldn't know.