Corinne
Wait actually. You shoukd prolly start.
Francisco
AYE gimme a minute >:^]

There was a trail of water droplets along the floor of Newton's Cradle, from the storm outside the doors to the office to the elevator. The figure they dripped from, tall as a shadow stretching over the wall, flicked more from the sleeve of her spike-laden jacket as the doors opened for her to tote her thrown-together bag of everything ever through and into the hall. She was preceded only by the faint *Clink*Ing of metal on metal echoing through the halls of the Facility.

That was cool and all, but what was considerably *Less* Cool was the lack of a glowing path on the ground telling Sigrún where her next quest marker was. Something loosened around her stomach, and slipped out from her side. The arm traipsed behind her in the hallway, and tasted the wall, the ceiling, a light; dust, paint, off-white, grey. *This place is a lacklustre dungeon.* Maybe the dungeon music in her head wasn't turned up high enough. One earbud tapped against a silvery longsword, and the other a delicate fish skeleton, only a little bit ensnared in a damp bleach-blonde curl. 

*I wish it were raining indoors. I should have taken a longer nap. This colour tastes blechhy.* A smudge of it bloomed for a moment on her cheek, below one of the dark pits around her eyes. *None of these numbers look real. I should probably be focusing on them. Gross.*

There. That looked like the number they told her. Hopefully. Who really knew, anyhow? Maybe they'd let her sleep on the roof. Or in the garden. In a puddle somewhere. Could this place be nicer than a good puddle? Time to find out.

*Taptap.*

"Hallo? Cuttlefish rental, here for the birthday party. Normally we don't take last-minute calls, but the office says it's important?"
Corinne
Gabe was positively *Buzzing* With excitement. 

No more single dorm, for better or worse. Here he was, lounging on his bed, waiting for an auspicious knock on the door to arrive at any moment. The room was immaculately clean; after all, he wouldn't want to make a bad first impression. Every poster of a shirtless bodybuilder, or an actor on stage, or a landscape photo of the New Orleans sights were crisp without a wrinkle in sight. The cream colored rug was vacuumed to hell and back, and the various photos and mementos from home that dotted the room were wiped clean. A vase of lilies sat on his desk, their blossoming scent filling the room with a pleasant aroma.

Gabe's hand grazed a dirt spot on the small, dark green vase, tenderly wiping a small speck of dust away. He was going to give them to his mom on the day he was taken— he didn't get a chance to say goodbye, but somehow, the flowers survived the trip to Sweden. It was unfortunate, then, that they had been cut off from their home plant and forced to endure a slow death. No matter how well Gabe tended to them, they were destined to die. 

A very, *Very* Cheerful voice knocks Gabe out of his depressive musings. *Female?* Is his first question. *Cuttlefish??????* Is his second. 

Still... She sounded amicable, despise some of the questions lingering in Gabe's head. He opens the door with barely a hesitation, and comes face to face with the cuttlefish girl. 

A tug of his collar back in place. A low, rumbling clear of his throat. A perfectly rehearsed winning smile. "You're my new roommate, then? Come in, come in— need help with any bags?"
Francisco
*Ah! He's tall. Don't need to slouch.* The wavy dumbbell shapes cut across her silvery irises didn't dilate like people's tended to, but they took him in quite thoroughly. *Spiffy. Nice teeth. Burnt red, deep green, a nice challenge to render in that pen-that-better-not-have-exploded-in-my-pocket-*
*Check the damned pen later. You've a man to spook about a living arrangement.*

In one disturbingly fluid motion, Sigrún straightened her back and cracked a grin as genuine as she dared for a first meeting across her handsome, angular face. The girl's dimples brightened her face considerably, but they could only do so much to counteract the ghostly pallor she had spread across her skin, and the weeping wells of inky black her strange eyes gazed down at this *Immaculately* Put-together boy from. She spoke, and it would be a little too easy to ignore the greenish stain just inside of her lip.

"No need, *Bror*, I have arms enough!"

The limb hovering behind her followed her through the door, wrapped once around her waist, distorting the sneering goat printed onto her shirt. She passed the bag she had been holding to it, to drop on the mattress behind her, and extended her now-free, fingerless-gloved hand.

"Sigrún, loved by women, feared by fish, but sort of the opposite lately, the not-so-dead-as-I-may-at-first-seem!" A note of annoyance, a bitter drop of brine, dissipated in her deep, faintly-accented voice as quickly as it made a ripple.

"Lovely weather we're having today."

Rainwater dripped onto the carpet as she shifted her weight onto one leg; it appeared that she had made no efforts to shield herself from said weather, glistening head to toe like some sort of rejected Cullen, tarred and.. Er... Spiked.
Corinne
Gabe stands there, mouth agape at the current scene in front of him. A girl, roughly his age— *Interesting looking*, he thought, deep brown eyes flickering over her appearance. 

She was... *Unsettling*, from the oddly cheerful nature despite what *Should* Be shitty circumstances for anyone remotely sane. Her pupils made shivers run down the back of Gabe's spine— god, if his mother were here, she'd be throwing sage at this girl's face by now. 

*What a freak.* It was hard to deny that...

...And then the tentacles came out. 

"S-s-sigrun, huh?" He stuttered out, eyes widening as rainwater got all over the carpet. A pained wince grew on his features as the sopping wet puddle grew larger on the floor. 

"I'll clean that later." His voice was choked up. *And he made everything nice, just for his new roommate*. 

"I'm Gabe. I, uh, take it you're..." Gabe's brain momentarily freezes in place, as the mental equivalent of a Windows boot-up sound reverberates in his skull. *404: brain cells not found,* As his eyes traced the movement of her tentacles in the air. 

"Squid." He manages, after a couple seconds' pause.

*This is embarrassing. For the love of all things holy, please pick yourself up, Gabriel.*
Francisco
A fast, raspy chuckle sounded from the odd girl-shaped creature. *Aw, he's delightful!* Her grin, somewhere to the left of comforting but genuine all the same, betrayed a glimpse of subdued sharpness.

"Ha! And krakens are noted for devouring entire boats of men whole. May the hungriest win, then, *Gabriel*," Said she, flopping backward onto what was *Her bed now she guessed*, another arm (had that always been out?) resting her skateboard against a bedpost a lot more gently. A horned black skull, screaming some sort of red light, flashed from the underside. "Just messing with you. I don't have to stay all coiled up anymore now, so. That bit's nice, aside from the *Colossal mountain of steaming shitted brimstone that is literally everything else about this situation*." 

He probably knew how it was. Ah, they would get along swell, if he wasn't the sort of early-game-encounter that would end up stabbing her later before the final battle or something. Sig wasn't special here, not yet at least- *That* Was thrilling. Would she have to stay up all night with a glob of ink locked beneath her tongue, watching out the window for shapeshifters and through the door for wailing spectres? Oh, if only she were so lucky. Best not aggravate this guy too much, though. He *Could* Be the stabby type. Or those muscles were real.

Kicking off her boots and setting them down someplace *Not* Carpeted (she was.. Only half an animal), the blonde winced a little.

"Ah, I'll get the floor. Whoops." She shrugged off her jacket, the most grievous offender, and began rummaging around in her(?) closet for a coat hanger. The deep red turtleneck she had on beneath her Venom shirt hinted at respectable muscles of her own. "Nice posters! This room is going to look *Hilarious* Once I get mine put up. You like horror movies?"

Sigrún was already becoming comfortable, expanding to fit her new space. Restlessly, a sucker-lined arm, always in motion, twisted behind her like a cat's tail.
Corinne
At *Colossal mountain of steaming shitted brimstone*, Gabe perked up, if only a tad. The faux, campus tour guide persona he so cheerfully donned in moments like these slipped, and he let out a weary sigh. 

"Tell me about it." Gabe said, eyes trailing down to the design on her shirt. He fiddled with the simple metal cross necklace that peeked out from his button up, saying nothing as Sigrun mentioned her posters. 

"Horror movies...? Well, I'm not *Not* Into them. Although, the best thing about them is watching other people's faces and laughing." He admitted. Old, distant memories of Blanche and him huddled under blankets, eating microwaveable popcorn by the handful while she pretended to not be scared by the movie... It was nice. He smiled fondly, and then... 

*Forgot. I'm here, aren't I.*

Back to reality. 

"Uh, you can decorate your side of the room however you want, but I'd rather you not touch my half. I think my dad would have a heart attack if he saw your posters." He punctuates his sentence with a laugh, if only to communicate that he was joking than an actual noise of amusement. 

Gabe's body turns around the room, eyes scanning the points of interest to find anything else that would be worth talking about to his new roommate. 

"Uh," He blabbed, "You can share my mini-fridge, but don't touch my protein shakes. Also, everyone else here is fucking *Weird*. Like, *Really goddamn weird.*" 

Another cursory glance at Sigrun. 

"I have a feeling you won't mind that last bit too much."
Francisco
Sigrún cocked her head to the side, gnawing on her cheek again as Gabe ran down the assortment of things to be taken into consideration. *Yes, indeed, heart attack-worthy*, she mused to herself, finding the box with all the posters in it. The rolled-up faces of many familiar vampires and Vincent Prices (some overlap) stared back at her, ready to be configured in the exact way they were back on her wall at home. *Heheheh.*

"Oh, Gabriel, I don't have a sense of the word." She turned back from sticking her pink and orange flag to the wall to smile devilishly in his direction, for emphasis. "In the meantime, if I don't put all of these up immediately, I simply will not, so. I was going somewhere with this. I don't remember. Keep talking anyway!"

A slam of her hand against the wall, and there was one more retro demon plastered onto it. "We have much to discuss!"