When the demon last died, he assumed he wouldn't return to any living world -- the blast was supposed to destroy his soul, smash it into so many pieces that no power in the universe could put him back together again. But, much to his confusion, he neglected to fall to Humpty Dumpty's fate. He'd slammed into this mutated human, booting out the host soul before consuming it in demonic hunger without thought. Because, truly, he never did think much about selecting a proper human host whenever he needed to rejoin mortal society.

To find this time he had fingers, of all wonderful things, that came as quite a pleasant surprise. Pleased with himself, but growing increasingly annoyed at mortal issues, he hummed some satanic song to himself as he wandered into the closest grocery store. Perhaps he'd only been dead for hours, because he still understood what hunger pains were. Still, he supposed that he could have been dead for centuries or stuck in a timeless void; after all, he was quite sure that his soul was in quite a sorry state after his suicide. Perhaps it had taken eons, countless universes collapsing and reforming in an infinite loop before he was stable enough to possess a body.

Musing on these things, he turned into the aisle marked "protein bars and spices," the memories engraved in the previous inhabitant's brain still intact and informing him that the body's owner usually liked to consume these "protein bars." His long, pale fingers flexed before he reached out to grab two boxes, reflexively turning over the boxes and studying the nutrition information.

He scratched at his left cheek -- growing a bit of stubble, much to his surprise -- while he squinted his gaze at the label. It was strange, evaluating nutrition criteria with someone else's knowledge; he supposed that he really had no idea how accurate the previous inhabitant's knowledge base was. For all Ramsay the Human knew, he might not know protein bars contained holy water and Ramsay the Demon would be dead after consuming them. As he studied the information, oblivious to his surroundings, he supposed this "triple chocolate caramel" flavor might be worth chancing a second suicide, though.

Ironically, Ramsay would be the one person in the area most likely to not give a fuck about Nos's unfortunate past deeds. Doubly ironic - without nullifying the irony! - he was still the person here most likely to deal the bread-wielding demon a non-surgical amputation for no logical reason. For the moment, however, he remained oblivious to the other creeping up on him. He was far too busy trying to understand this strange new information about nutrition, especially when the only knowledge base he had came from someone else's brain. He did feel a looming sense of... something, but he just assumed that was the human body deciding to sneeze or some other unpleasant fleshbag activity.

At the corner of his eye, he noticed movement, and curiously looked up to see a strange human wielding what looked like a long squishy turd and small sheet of metal. It took him half a second to recognize the other for a demon, rather than simply a weird human doing strange human things, as he honestly hadn't expected meeting another of his kind so soon after repossessing a body. Especially a demon that seemed intent on hating him.

His lips curled into a toothy, wide smile as he locked gazes with Nos, throwing the boxes back onto the shelf. "I'm flattered you remember our little dance, among all the horrible memories that must be rotting in your soul," he stated, quite truthful. That dimension had quite a lot of mayhem - perhaps that's why he'd been drawn to the place to possess one of them - and he was surprised he ran into one of the ones he'd tortured the worst on his first day in this new one. He glanced at the bread for a moment, wondering if this was supposed to be some kind of secret weapon he didn't know about. It looked quite ineffective and silly for a weapon, much more suitable as a peace offering. Perhaps a gift?

Taking a step forward, brazen as always, he remarked, a mix of condescending and playful in his tone, "We're the same. You know I'm just here to have fun, whatever I decide that is." Right now, he still didn't know what he'd end up doing. For right now, he was just hungry, and curious about Nos's presence. Still, it was amusing to see Nosferatu strike a defensive position; he had no intention of disillusion the other demon of his non-aggressive plans, at least until he no longer found it amusing.

The more his adversary spoke, Ramsay grew increasingly perplexed about Nosferatu's character. He acted unlike any other demon the former leader ever met; taking pity on mortals and prizing them for their individual qualities seemed too sentimental for an immortal creature such as themselves. But he supposed Nosferatu's relationships with the mortals around him probably ran as deep as an ant keeper's attachment grew to the individual ants in their colonies: fascination with the individual for a brief time, before it nevertheless slipped back into the indistinguishable and expendable masses. But, then, how did that explain the male becoming so stupid to willingly give birth several times? His blue eyes, the color of dirty river water, seemed to grow hungrier as he witnessed the involuntary shiver.

He hummed slightly to himself, finding that he quite appreciated human vocal cords in his throat. Hums felt pleasant in this arrangement of muscle and membranes, but not quite enough to take his mind off of the puzzle in front of him. His dark brows drew closer together as he stared down the shorter and slighter male, politely allowing the other to finish his sarcastic quips, Ramsay's own predatory smirk growing all the while. "So strange to hear human morality coming out of a demon's mouth. You'll make a fun carnival attraction back in hell," he stated, low chuckle in his throat. "If every animal feels emotions, what makes emotions sacred? You don't praise the lion for breathing, you praise the lion for sitting at the top of the food chain. Feelings are no different; they are as mundane and unremarkable as the common quartz."

Suddenly finding himself reminded of matters from eons ago, he paused. His gaze seemed to drift out of focus, as he remembered a conversation very much like this one happening before his demon days. How strange, how very strange, to hear himself say things so similar to... well, he couldn't find the name, the memories were so caked with dust. His eyes, swirling with color like polluted sea pools, refocused on Nosferatu. Inexplicably, he scoffed, laughing in the other demon's face with his teeth showing - no, how silly of him to think of such things. Ramsay's earlier and pre-demon self was nothing like Nosferatu (for one, he'd never be so stupid as to give birth in mortal form!). Ramsay, himself, he was beyond all that now. Yet he still found interest in the situation, resolving that his new fun began with Nosferatu. 

His left hand reached out to the side of Nosferatu's face, attempting to wrap his fingers in a tight enough grip on the demon's hair to be uncomfortable, but not a hold too difficult to escape from. He felt absolutely wild now, locked onto a new goal and alight with the thrill of a challenge - he involuntarily moved his face closer to Nosferatu's, breath quickening as his mind smoldered, gears turning as he wondered just what it would take to make Nosferatu his. His nostrils flared, smirk collapsing into a stoic and stone-faced neutral expression. "You always dated the baddest boys back in ThunderClan. Always the one pregnant. Yet I'm the crazy one?" he asked, with a serious lack of concern for personal space.