A retreating Killian was unfortunately replaced by another demonic entity, one with much more sinister nature than the doberman's when considering the lifeless and calculating glint to his luminous glare. Beck may have been oblivious to common social cues and normal behavior thanks to centuries of isolation, but he wasn't an idiot. An idiot wasn't able to lay out countless traps of their own design and predict where trespassers would set foot, nor learn about a creature simply through observation. Not that he was bragging, sometimes Beck wished he was able to hold a placid conversation without preparing a counter-attack in his mind out of paranoid in case anything were to go awry, and that he was able to understand what it felt like to have a plain, innocent friendship, sappy as it was, instead of manipulating his peers for fun. He just wanted to be normal, despite his tragic fate. But everyone wanted to be that, didn't they? Based on the insecure way the husky covered himself in gauze and even a sweater regardless of the swamp's sweltering humidity, it seemed Jacob wanted to be what the world considered normal too. What was he hiding?
Freezing apparition briefly bumping into the new addition to their ranks under the name Jerseyboy, the scruffy feline shot the taller cat a glowering look as if to silently question how he knew Jacob. Not that it mattered, he was just curious. Without warning, the poltergeist craned his neck out until he was uncomfortably close to Jacob, scarred snout giving out a few deep sniffs. Beck's stubby tail gave an irritated wag as his keen nose identified the trace scents of Leigh and his territory, and with a visible clench of his teeth, he reminded himself he wanted to remain on good terms with Snowbound, considering his under-developed plans for an alliance. With Pincher and Starrynight teaming up against them, it was clear they needed at least one ally to turn to. He recoiled from Jacob, disfigured muzzle holding back a sneeze at the overwhelming scent of wool and herbs from the husky's sweater and commented mostly to himself, "You're from that Snowbound place, ain'tcha? And a medic, right?" He staggered for a moment, shifting his weight on the lone functional paw he had while the other was tucked uselessly against his chest and bundled in filthy bandages, and licking his half-exposed teeth with a strikingly-blue tongue, Beck rasped out impatiently, "Well, are ya gonna talk? What do ya want?"
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