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Horace answered the door with a smile and a towel around his neck. He hadn't known if Melvin would come, but the other hunter pulled through. Soon, his pet project of 'make the basement more damn livable' would be fully underway. "Hi, Melvin," he said brightly, and gestured for the other man to come inside. "Please excuse the mess."

In all actuality, Horace's room was surprisingly tidy. His books were carefully place on shelves and organized first by author then by series. There was, of course, a tiny pile next to his bed. Nighttime reading. The only messiness was that fact that his bed remained only half-made and that pile of clothing sitting on the one chair in the room. He slung the damp towel on the back of the chair and moved further into the room. Just before texting Melvin, he'd taken a shower and Horace's hair took forever to dry.

"As you can see," His foot scuffed the floor. "I have a bit of a stain issue. In fact, I, uh... I think it's dried blood." He shrugged.

He watched Melvin walk around. "Yeah - I haven't killed anyone in my room yet. And I kind of hope nobody's been killed." It was a false hope - the amount of blood needed to cause such a stain... he shook his head. Melvin seemed like such a fastidious mna, and Horace's assumption seemed to be further confirmed by the way he moved, the way he knelt without touching. Horace had only recently begun to take care of his appearance more. His hair, of course, he'd always taken good care of; it was a point of pride that is was so thick and shiny. But little things, like clean, even nails, that was newer - an attempt to be a little closer to some sort of ideal for Jan.

"Actually, there's another one on the wall, behind the bookcase." Without prompting, Horace walked over to the bookcase. With a shrug, he gripped the case and shoved it over. He didn't bother to remove the books and a few of them toppled onto their sides with small thunks. Behind the case was a large splatter of rusty red. "Kinda like a Jackson Pollack painting. You know, for an old school, this basement seems really, really weird. There's even stranger things in other rooms." There were rooms with manacles, oubliettes, and Horace had read about other, stranger rooms - throne rooms and rooms with dolls. His own room often gave him the impression that things were moving just past the corner of his eyes.

"But I'm thinking of trying to paint the walls, anyway. And my door. And maybe as much of the basement as I can." He chewed on his lower lip. "So what can we do about the stain - at least the floor one. Should I go grab anything?"

"Yeah, I hope so." He hesitated a moment, pushing his damp hair behind his ear. "Sometimes, it feels like I see things are moving in here out of the corner of my eye. I'm sure I'm just being paranoid, though." He watched Melvin move, at a loss as how to help. When he sprayed the stain, Horace cracked the door just a bit. Ventilation was s**t in the basement and he'd rather not die of cleaning.

He watched the liquid bubble. "Didn't kill anything - came pre-stained. I don't mind the basement though. The bathrooms are awful - I miss nicer ones a lot. Usually, I sneak up to the first floor and use theirs. But it's nice not to have windows." He rubbed his hands on his pants. "How long do we wait? Oh, sorry I haven't got a seat. You can chill on my bed while we wait, though?" Horace sank down onto his bed and patted it, shrugging.

Horace watched as Melvin sat down and frowned. Maybe he shouldn't have been such a shitty host and cleaned off the chair. The other hunter seemed vaguely ill at ease, slightly fidgety. Well, at least the mattress wasn't creaky - Horace knew that very, very well. He shook his head and felt a drop of water slide down his neck. He shivered. His hair soaked up water like it was a sponge and took absolutely forever to dry.

"Melvin," he said intently. "-the ones upstairs have clear water. I can actually get myself clean in them. But... bathrooms might be worth having to have a window. And you could certainly say that public bathrooms have a nicer view." He chuckled and maybe flushed a little. Showers were nice; he hadn't done anything with Jan in one, yet - the man seemed to want more privacy. Al, though, had been in a shower. Not a great memory, though it wasn't bad, but it had been an utter lapse injudgement. "Is your room really nice?" He leaned back on his hands, hair falling back. With a frown, he felt a drop splash on his hand. With an oomph, he got up and collected the towel from the chair, using it to squeeze the ends of his hair as he sat down. Horace abruptly realized the other man had barely looked at him. He frowned and leaned towards him.

"Melvin, is.. is there something weird on my face?"

Horace flushed a little, embarrassed. "Really? Damn - I just brushed my teeth. Thanks." He accepted the pick, running his tongue over his teeth. Normally, he would go into another room to floss, but his dorm only had one room, so he decided that Melvin was just going to have to deal with it. He flossed precisely, tooth by tooth (because otherwise he'd forget which ones he did and didn't floss). Hmm. He'd done everything and seen nothing on the pic. With a shrug, he chucked the pic at the garbage bin by the door. Ten points! Horace looked back at Melvin, baring his teeth. "Did I, uh, get it?"

Certain he must have, Horace leaned back on one hand again, but stayed turned towards the other hunter. "I don't need a fancy bathroom, just one that's clean. And I hope for your sake, you get promoted by doing something less dangerous - maybe for your runic work." The threat of their own mortality hung over the island, Horace thought. Despite that, so many people seemed willing to throw themselves in harm's way - himself included, if he were being honest. "Y'know, that might be a good idea, I guess. Though, despite the gloom, I kind of like it down here. Feels weirdly secure. I appreciate your offer, though." Horace clapped Melvin on the shoulder. "You feel like you'll be up for promotion soon?"

Horace shrugged. "Whatever you are, you're better than me at runics. I should learn something about them or go diving sometime." He frowned just a bit. He didn't like that Melvin was putting himself down. The other hunter seemed competent,even if Melvin didn't think so. It wasn't as though Horace hit anything he aimed at half the time, anyway. "Look, Melvin, you were really helpful in Paris, especially so considering your handicap. Don't sell yourself so short, okay." Horace sighed and brought his foot up to rest on on the opposite knee.

"There ain't anything wrong with wanting a room and when they promote you, it'll be because you deserve it." Horace held a great deal of respect for those in Life division. Death was information, but Life was experimentation. New information versus pre-existing information. It didn't balanceout quite like Sun and Moon did, but it was close. "Oh, should we, uh, do the thing?" He gestured towards the stains, damp hair swinging.

Melvin was silent for a long moment, and Horace watched him out of the corner of his eye. Watched as vague emotions flickered across the other man's face and tried to catalogue them. But then Melvin jerked and was up and it was time to de-stain the room. Even the way the man removed his gloves was interesting - and then replaced them with other gloves.

He stood at Melvin's suggestion. "Of course! I can't let you do all the work, after all. Suit me up." He took the green bottle and wandered over to the wall stain. The smell of cleaning products was stronger than expected and he coughed, once. But Horace scrubbed dutifully. While he didn't care so much for the act of cleaning, he loved the result. He twisted his body around to watch Melvin clean for a moment.

"Do you always wear gloves, Melvin?"