Tristan slowly backed away from the orange shimmering ooze as it entered, trained on Arkain. "This isn't funny, Ghost..." He said slowly, his eyes turning from yellow to orange. As he saw Arkain's legs get bound together, his orange eyes reddened and he turned, "Alright, Chalky, that's it. Isn't it dishonorable to aid in someone else's acquisition for the sole purpose of getting them out of the way? From what you yourself preach, it would be blasphemy to not partake in pleasure after handicapping someone for the benefit of another, unless you get off on that sort of thing..." By the time he had finished his short speech, he had come up to Ghost's side, his voice lowering into a growl. His body was angled in such a way to  imply a restriction of further movement towards two of the doors not occupied by the presently mounding form of orange latex.