He listened to what was happening outside in the hall, and kind of just visualized what happened. Which meant he got to miss the girls getting a little touchy with each other, which would be nice to see one of these days... he wondered, some times. But much like Marty, he tried to give great respect to couples, didn't want to hurt his friends, who for all intents and purposes, were his family. The family he had chosen, versus the family he had been born with.<br/><br/>He was going over the books one last time, making sure everything was in its right place, when Scar came in and took a look around. He hmm'd at her question. "Well, it might sound silly, but I wanted to double check with you before I started covering every available surface with an ungodly amount of masks." This is an off thing for Puck; he's usually not one for uncertainty, but it was definitely going to take him a day or two, if not slightly longer, with getting comfortable with the idea of this place being his home. 'Til then, Scar would find him deferring to her judgment a lot, as he essentially saw this as her 'territory'.<br/><br/>'Our place' would take time. But again, this is actually rare of Puck, to show indecisiveness. Normally, he's the kind of guy who can just make a judgment call at the snap of a finger. But the last week he's been thrown a bit off-kilter. Much like the animals she had photographed, she probably realized he had patterns, habits; a lot of people did. Just like suddenly changing the environment of an animal, he'd need time to find his footing again, and go back to normal... which was anything but!<br/><br/>"Also, I need to find the command hook thingies to hang them off of." The only labels he had put on any of his boxes were simply "Puck"; in hindsight, he really should have been more organized. He might be living out of boxes for the next day or two, and then things would be back to that organized clutter that had been synonymous with his home; where everything had made sense only to him, and those who had taken the time to understand him, and which at a glance just looked like absolute chaos, and left people wondering how he ever found anything or got anything accomplished. Yet, he always knew where everything was.<br/><br/>She'd never judged him for it, far as he could tell. in fact, he had seen her intrigue, her wanting to understand, the eventual acceptance (if not full understanding); and it was one of the reasons he knew she would be a very special woman, if not<em>the</em>woman. She didn't just endure his eccentricities; she seemed to love him for it, instead of in spite of it. "Also also, I think I hurt Sarah's brain with the way my books are arranged." He flashed her a devil's grin. "You two okay? Sounded like a collision."<br/><br/>As he posed the question, he went to set an emptied box that had been full of books next to the other empty boxes, take one of the taped shut ones, and slice through the packing tape with his pocket knife. Two quick flicks of the wrist, the tape was no longer in the way; a third flick of the wrist, and the knife was folded back into itself and clipped to his pants pocket, a reminder to anybody that saw it that the dude had cat-like reflexes.<br/><br/>The box is opened, and he looks crestfallen. "Clothes." And so they were. Boxers and socks, if anybody wanted to look. And so it would go for a while, as he worked his way through the boxes to try and find things, with an occasional comment like 'muggie'--his favorite coffee mug, which was black, and had white printing on it that said 'I'm not bossy, I just have better ideas'--or 'zombies!' when he finds his bobble heads.<br/><br/>"...I really should have labeled these better." Though left to it, he will eventually find the command hooks, and the masks, and begin... decorating.   Even the masks have their own sense of organization to them; smaller masks up higher, heavier ones closer to the ground, sorted by which culture they originated from, and also sub-divided by how often said mask got usage. In a fit of pique, one of his Mardi Gras masks gets placed upon his head; beautiful black velvet, with orange flower petals coming off from around the eyes; a Fleur de lis right in the 'third eye' area of his forehead; and elegant, spiraling swirls of orange accenting it. Even the outlines that formed the teeth were done in that vivid color. "Look, I'm the skeleton in the closet."<br/><br/>He low-key laughed as he made the terrible joke, grinning goofily behind the mask; an expression none would catch, for it fit from his forehead to his chin. Even better? The orange was black light sensitive, so it glowed under the right circumstances. He did, in fact, have an entire black light costume that made him look like an orange skeleton.