Sometimes Bakugou likes to entertain himself with possibilities. He likes to wonder who he was before, who the owner of this body had been and what happened to them. Had the universe always intended this vessel to manifest powers? If not, then it would explain why it had brought him so much pain. Then he will wonder if the creature is still alive. Perhaps it is living dormant within him, breathing and asleep. The frightening idea is that the spirit is trapped within the confines of this body, forced to watch Bakugou ruin everything, creep and try to break free from the shackles that keep it down. Maybe part of him is slowly beginning to seep out, leaking like a broken pipe, intoxicating his system. Their spirits would mingle, mix and mesh. An awful and hideous brew, bubbling within the cauldron of his body. While the thoughts are entertaining, keeping the young Quartermaster occupied, they are deeply unsettling. The idea that he is not the owner of this body (for no body can simply materialise without a beginning) haunts him like a phantom in the night, sanguine eyes glowing back at him like a distorted reflection. He is the unknowing parasite who has taken over his host, unaware of possible life that dwells within the chasms of a spectral realm, lurking and aware. But, his thoughts intercept, maybe the creature is already dead.

One uncomfortable theory that sticks to him is that the body he has inherited must have been a wanderer - a wanderer who planned on traveling to The Typhoon but, by some mysterious circumstances, was replaced by Bakugou. It would make sense considering how natural walking felt for him, as if he had been doing it his whole life. It even tied in the fact that the ragdoll had not been far off the border of the island. From time to time the male can't help but also wonder what group he would have chosen if he could otherwise. His association to The Typhoon had been by chance. But, amusingly enough, he would have chosen the band of pirates anyway. The Pitt were awful bloodlusting rogues, the Rosebloods were stuck-up bitches, Snowbound had recently been obliterated and, in terms of the other groups, they didn't seem to really exist. While Sunhaven has cast a good impression on him, Bakugou isn't interested in merchants. Ascendants? Apparently they weren't worth his time. Turns out the group he has heard the least from was Tanglewood.

"Yo." The call is sudden but natural. Bakugou has noticed this stranger sitting at the border for some time, not even being present to hear his hello. He notices the bells has been untouched by he pays no mind to it. There will always be someone in The Typhoon who despises the obnoxious sound of the bells, causing black mambas to stir in bitter wait. He's been making walks towards the railroad rather aimlessly, patrolling for any inconsistencies, letting his mind roam and humoring himself. Truthfully, the Quartermaster didn't expect to see anyone sitting there so politely and quietly. The feline approaches, paws sizzling smoke whenever his pads touch the ground. "What do you want here?" He doesn't ask for the name. Normally foreigners come to introduce themselves anyway. He doesn't really care who the other is as long as he knows what they are doing here.

Bakugou was becoming his own. He notices himself changing but there is no resistance. Part of him wonders if it is the result of a possible other being living within his vessel, another part of him wonders if it is triggered through his own accord. He will metamorphose - become a better him. The island provides him a foundation to change, to evolve. If he had been younger, he might have been afraid to take it, to grasp the future that bends against his will and morphs into forms unwanted by him. The young Quartermaster feels no agitation when the stranger takes his time to answer. He too is distracted. He would rather be somewhere else but at the same time he is happy to let time rot as he stands here. Bakugou bites his tongue, a smokey breath escapes him when he hears the foreigner finally speak. No drama. There is no calamity that can interrupt the peace of this moment, sanguine gaze reflecting the other's image like a mirror. He doesn't say anything to welcome the other just yet, listens to the creature's comment before flicking his ear, expecting the voice of another to speak up before him. To be honest, he was only expecting Owen rather than the appearance of two more.

He huffs in amusement to Goldenluxury's warning to Seamus, grinning in a conceited fashion. "Just 'cause Caesar's gone doesn't mean you're special enough to start fights," Bakugou muses to the faerie, waving his tail behind him. Seamus would always be a nobody to him. Even then, it wasn't to say that he was willing to see a second Caesar. The demon gave him enough of a headache. He doesn't want to think of him for any longer than he should. Troubles should remain in the past - buried, locked, cremated...maybe even drowned for good measure. Bakugou flickers his eyes towards Sparrow, giving the male a nod: "Name's Bakugou. Don't come to me for questions or help unless you're dying and if you're not clearly dying, then I'll make sure you fit the criteria before I reply to you." He leaves.

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