Next to a fire in the middle of a witch festival is a terrible place to brood. Witches don't pay the best attention to their surroundings when they're doing their rituals, but Ghoul's fortunate enough to spot one disaster in the making before it's too late. He steps in and rudely hipchecks an incoming witch off-course, before she has the chance to obliviously twirl right over Johanna.

It earns him the prissiest scoff and the most dramatic storm-away he's ever seen, to which he only rolls his eyes. "They're pretty air-headed when they're witching-out," he says, glancing back down at Johanna. She doesn't look or smell familiar to him, but she's still one of his kind. That makes her instantly superior company. "You're in prime trampling territory."