Chtp8: Use maturity! Bond with a gentlemen thief!

Basalin sat down on his bed, another bed across from him, fiddling with his designs again. He'd quickly claimed much of the kitchen, placing burners and other glass wear that he used to brew the best and most phantasmal of coffees and teas. He was a master of the most black of arts: Fence sitting on the bloodiest debate of all. Coffee or Tea.

Both, was his world shattering answer.

He got out his coffee beans. Beans located and stolen from a wizened Orc Shaman, and grown in troll and dragon shit. Meanwhile, his tea leaves were taken from the fey dimension, where bartered his 'most valuable ingredient' for the location of 'the most valuable tea tree'. They got a pile of shit, and he got a tea tree worth millions of lien.

Next, he stocked the bathroom with various oils. From tanning oil, to scale polishing oil. His scales must shine and they must shine the brightest! He then added bath salts, incenses, soaps, and exfoliating scrubs.

His attention was taken away when he heard the door open.

A teen much the same age as he was, he had orange hair a natural smirk on his face. He looked rather feminine and would likely become something of a lady killer in the future. You know, if he didn't wear mascara.

The boy looked surprised and took in Basalin's obvious Faunas features. Basalin then introduced himself.

"Name's Basalin Chrome. Don't touch my bed, my scroll, ask me to make you a cup of coffee or tea, and the bathroom amenities are free to use. If you don't know what a substance is, don't touch it and ask. Don't want you washing your hair with lube, now do we?" Basalin cracked a grin.

"Uh, what's lube?" The ginger boy asked with curiosity.

Bas cracked up a bit, and pulled out his scroll. "Well, it goes a bit like this..."

...

A beat red ginger boy stuttered as he backed away from the laughing Basalin. He put away his scroll and asked the embarrassed boy a 'question'.

"I never got your name." Bas said.

"Uh, umm, Roman, Roman Torchwick." The boy mumbled, realizing he'd just been pranked.

"Ha, you certainly look like a torch right now." The Faunas laughed. "Well, whatever. I gave you my rules, you have any?"

"Uh, don't touch my stuff, like, ever." The boy frowned. He didn't have much, and that limited wealth made him possessive of his meager items and wears.

"Cool." The other teen said, laying down on his bed. "My shit might kill you, dust and magic shit, ya' know. So if you still want your hands and eyes, don't touch mine. " The other boy nodded quickly. He was no stranger to having sticky fingers, but stealing from his roommate wasn't wise, especially one so intimidating. What Bas didn't say was that he'd also be able to smell and taste where his items and things were.

"We have initiation tomorrow, so I'm gonna try and catch a few Z's. Long flight and all." Bas yawned, showing Torchwick his fangs. "I expect you in bed and lights out at around eleven at latest. We clear." The Faunas glared lightly, his eyes clearly showing how irate he'd be if Roman stretched that time or woke him up.

The thirteen year-old nodded strongly, agreeing with what was being said with him also yawning.

The two boys hit the bed and were soon off to dreamland.

...

Roman walked into the bathroom, his eyes went wide at the sheer amount of bottles and substances on the various surfaces. He walked out of the bathroom and locked eyes with a recently showered and clean Basalin who was making breakfast.

"Sunny side or scrambled eggs?" Basalin asked as he turned the stove on, he was five-foot six currently, and didn't need a stool.

"Scrambled." Roman answered.

"Pepper, salt, and hot sauce?" Bas questioned.

"Sure, although no mouth burning please."

Bas nodded. "I have sensitive taste buds, so you'll likely be asking for more later, but we have all year to iron out the kinks. No need to overcompensate."

Roman's eyebrows rose and he found a profound wisdom in a talk about breakfast of all things. He shook himself.

"I was thinking omelets, tomatoes, onions, green peppers, the fridge was loaded."

"Sounds great. I'll have orange juice, but before you start, can you help me with the bathroom?"

Bas blinked and nodded. They walked over and entered.

"These two bottles were already supplied by the facility. Shampoo and Conditioner. When we need more we're expected to get receipts so we can exchange it. The school covers most if not all costs." Roman nodded vigorously, taking this knowledge to heart.

"This is my scale wash... this is tanning lotion... this is body scrub... and lastly this is the apricot face scrub." Roman nodded seriously, his hand stroking his chin as he committed all of this to memory.

"Next, we have the towels and hand towels. Mine are all grey, and yours are the black. We'll have laundry days." They continued on going about the bathroom before Basalin left to cook breakfast.

Roman exited feeling like a thousand lien, and entered a feast of cheesy omelets and orange juice with some apple slices.

"Make sure you eat your fill, including the apple slices and the skin." Bas stated with Roman already doing so.

The two of them ate in a comfortable silence, before Roman asked a question. "Don't faunas only have one features, you have like... three or four."

Basalin grinned before popping and dislocating his shoulder joint, blade, and entire right arm. Roman felt his jaw hang, before wincing as his roommate suddenly flexed and used sheer muscle control to force his joints back in.

"That took a lot of practice and control, humans could do it too, 'cause its a human body." Bas stated, "But due to me being something called a True Faunas or Beast by some, I'm a bit more flexible than most folk." The snake man grinned and flashed his teeth, he put a fork prong on the edge of his fang and pulled it back.

Roman watched in fascination as the metal was ate away by a powerful acid.

"Comes with drawbacks though," Bas shrugged, "Instincts are out of whack; murder, maim, kill, hunt, torture, all that stuff. I don't like hanging out with people due to being a reptile and a part of me wants to break every bone in your body for intruding in my nest." He said casually while picking up a spoon fool of eggs tomatoes and onion, tipping it to the side he let in some of the pool of ketchup. He took a bite.

"I've had years of practice to control them to an extent, which basically means I needed an outlet." He smiled. "The Grimm might not scream or bleed, nor do they taste alright, but damn if it isn't a hunt."

Roman watched woodenly as his roommate finished his plate, washed it off, glared at him and silently communicated for him to do the same when he finished. He got a hoodie, his scroll and a belt holding two blades. "I'm going to take a look around the campus, meet me at the audiotorium's gates at seven o' hundred." He walked out the room without another word.

Roman turned back to his plate and started to shovel delicious eggs into his mouth. He didn't know what to think about his intimidating roommate, but damn if he wasn't what Roman thought of when he heard the word 'Huntsman'.

He wanted to be like him.