Ghoul managed to catch a glimpse of Party as he'd been passing through the area, but something struck him as wrong and he'd doubled back. Now he's standing a few arm-lengths away, squinting at Party while he tries his campaign-thing on a couple of randoms, and trying to pinpoint what it is, exactly, that's striking him as odd.
He waits until the people leave before asking, "Is that my shirt?" He honestly can't remember if it was ever his or if he's just borrowed it enough times that it feels like he owns it. But either way, it looks clean, and that's unusual. Actually, his hair looks clean too.
That can't be right. Ghoul moves in, getting right up close so he can have a better look- and that's when he gets a whiff of him. The surprise makes him jerk back an inch or two, a hand flying up to shield his nose and mouth. That's definitely not right. "What the fuck, is that you?" Something smells pretty. It can't be Party. Literally can not be.
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He waits until the people leave before asking, "Is that my shirt?" He honestly can't remember if it was ever his or if he's just borrowed it enough times that it feels like he owns it. But either way, it looks clean, and that's unusual. Actually, his hair looks clean too.
That can't be right. Ghoul moves in, getting right up close so he can have a better look- and that's when he gets a whiff of him. The surprise makes him jerk back an inch or two, a hand flying up to shield his nose and mouth. That's definitely not right. "What the fuck, is that you?" Something smells pretty. It can't be Party. Literally can not be.