Welcome to Gaia! ::

"MMmmmm... I don't know. I've never heard of an indestructible piece of garment. Besides, mine ain't exactly 'normal' claws either," his brow arched as he watched the hat chew on the straw and then apparently decide it was a good time to nap, "It's a grouchy thing, isn't it," it was more of a statement than a question, though in all honesty, the gargoyle felt the hat had the right idea going there, since after all... he had been napping before Coralie had so rudely woken him up.

That in mind, he couldn't help but take a moment to stretch himself on the branch, choosing to lean his weight slightly against the trunk of the tree, "Eeeeh... advice ain't bad. You can always chose to ignore it anyhow. What's it gonna do? Eat you if you don't do what it says?" another pause as he stared her up and down, and then back up and down again, "Well, ain'tcha a witch? Ain't magic what you do? Maybe you can magic it up and get it to hush up if you don't like it that much," a shrug was offered at that point, though the way he was looking at her hugely suggested he had no idea what he was talking about, having little to no knowledge about magic.

Except that it hurt him and he thus didn't like. For the most part anyhow, "Don't really like magic," he murmured before yawning slightly, which made him an odd spectacle to look at, because... once he opened his mouth, his bones and then thin air could be seen beyond his throat. As soon as he was done, Morton snorted again, "It's not an explosion I was looking for - just a touch of emotion. You seem to not really care about anything at all; not saying that's a bad thing, just..." he wasn't sure what word he was looking for; Boring? Unusual? "Sad," he decided, "That's more of a ghost thing, I thought," then again, it was probably true he had more than enough emotion for the both of them; he was rather passionate over pretty much everything, "What's your name, anyhow? I don't think I caught it."

Morton stiffened quite visibly at her words, suddenly sitting up straight instead of leaning his weight against the trunk of the tree. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out; instead he simply regarded her warily, now debating his earlier claim of her not being a 'threat'. It took him several seconds to realize she wasn't being serious, and was just using some sort of strange (horrifying) example, "Don't you dare," he said simply, slowly relaxing back down into his previous position, "If you kill me, I'll come back and haunt you worse than that hat of yours. I'll make it my purpose in my unlife... so don't go using any sort of.... magic-y shenanigans on me," he even raised a hand on the air to wave his claws around as he spoke - he was still apparently, visibly perturbed by the mental image of turning into a pigeon.

Not that he hates birds; he rather liked them and the way the would perch on some of his inanimate cousins. But still, that did not, in any way, shape or form, mean that he wanted to become one!

And then... the cat spoke.

"Does everything you own talk?" despite his words, he couldn't help but smirk, because an idea had just crossed his mind, "That's nothing. Watch this," and that said, the gargoyle reached up to unlock the collar he was wearing, and with one fluid movement, he tossed it at Coralie to catch. The motion alone was enough to voice the fact he'd decided he trusted her not to run off with it.

The moment the collar was off, he shifted, and where there had once been a humanoid looking skeleton there now sat a much more feral looking creature. Unlike his humanoid form, his head was now fully skeletal, and his eyes mere glowing lights within the dark voids of his sockets. He wasn't that much bigger than he'd previously been; case point being that the baggy clothes he'd been wearing, still actually fit withing being torn to pieces. It was probable that the reason he wore them to large was for this reason alone, "Lookit now," his voice remain mostly the same, if not a touch raspier, and as he spoke, he opened his mouth wide, leaning his head towards both Coralie and the cat, offering them a full view of... well, nothing, really. His throat was open, and it was probably a mystery how he managed to eat anything at all.

"Are you mocking me?" a pause, followed by a frown as he answered himself, "You're mocking me," if skeletons could pout, well... Morton sure as hell did, though it was brief, since both the girl's hand AND the cat swiftly distracted him. He was, in all honesty, having trouble staying still, perched upon that branch, and amusingly enough, it had less to do with the cat that was playing within his rib cage and more to do with the hand on his skull.

It was taking all of his self control not to move against the hand so that the girl was scratching his head - this would simply just not do. He wasn't a puppy, he was a gargoyle and it was hardly dignified and... her other hand joined her first one and Morton's small shreds of self control flew right out the window.

His head moved against Coralie's hand's in a movement that was much more dog like than Morton would have liked. Still, in his defense, this was a lot like having someone place their hand right by a really, really awful itch, just barely out of it's reach; it was almost impossible not to move to set things right, "Mmmm? What makes sense?" unfortunately, he sounded almost drugged (Which also was not very dignified - well damn); enough that he barely spared the cat a glance as it began to climb about.

Morton had absolutely no idea where he'd gotten such a notion from, and quite honestly, even if he had... it'd have flown right out of the window as soon as her hands moved to the sides of his skull to massage him. It was becoming quite clear that Coralie could have told him she was Jack's reincarnation and he would have probably answered with a light, drugged "Hmmmmmm?" which was exactly what he did in response to her question. After a moment, he blinked (or rather, the lights that shone within his eyes seemed to flicker - indicating some sort of blink) and he tried to drag whatever shreds of his mind (and dignity) out of second gear, "Oh, uhm. I don't know. Your tone of voice?" no, apparently he couldn't do any better than that at the present moment.

A frown crossed his features (how that was even possible... was debatable), "Not a zombie - M'a monster. S'far as I know, m'alive..." his words sounded slurred, and it was increasingly obvious that Coralie had found a weak point of his, if the way he was leaning forward, almost into while still perched, was any indication, "It fits?" his eyes flickered over to her, apparently confused, but all to happy to drop the whole thing and concentrate on her hands (it HAD been taking all his self control just to force words out after all), "I... I don't get this often," it was his apparently feeble attempt to explain himself, "People don't usually touch me, and it takes a lot to actually get me to feel anything anyhow - downside of having no skin and meat I guess," he again moved slightly forth, this time slipping slightly on the branch and almost toppling over - he recovered with ease though, "What I'm saying is that I enjoy this," if anything, he was honest. Bluntly so.

He turned his head to look at the cowering cat inside his rib cage, and only paused a moment to roll his eyes before he jumped off the branch, intent on reaching lower ground where he could maybe, maybe (please?) enjoy the encounter without the risk of falling off the tree, thus making a fool out of himself. As his feet touched solid ground, he turned his head to look back up at the reaper girl, tilting his head almost comically at her. Huh, who'd have thought he'd enjoy this.

"Yes, really," now that her hands were gone, it was certainly easier to think, that was for sure. However, no sooner had he landed that he felt that strange urge to climb right back up the right once more; it was an urge he could barely control at the best of times, and he was forced to occupy himself with something in order to quell it. Thus so, the Gargoyle turned his attention to inspect the forest, and then shifted so that he could scratch an itch behind his head in a motion so dog like that it must've been amusing to watch.

It was her next set of words which snapped his attention back to her, and he frowned again, almost as if offended, though the look didn't last long upon his features, "Sorta, but not quite. I do sleep; I tire, and I do eat, but I feed straight off from FEAR rather than actual... meat," he made a face, "I tried it once. Let's just say it was messy and useless. I don't feel an urge to eat physical food," he shrugged, his gaze on her. Just like she was inspecting him, he was actually inspecting her back. He'd always been so scared of reapers, that he'd spent most of his time avoiding them. Now here was one that he was sure was mostly harmless to him (no, the scratching didn't count here), and he was, for the first time, studying the situation carefully.

Or... he would have, if he his mind hadn't been clouded by the fact she was floating down. Anticipation made it almost impossible to stay still and not reach out, but she stopped just short of reaching him, and he once more pouted, "Tease," he mumbled, and then stood on his hind legs, closing his jaws around the wood of the broom. He didn't pull down on it, though he did move his gaze to look up at her, almost managing a puppy dog look; it was ruined by the fact that if was a puppy, then he was a rather... scary looking one, "Please?" he apparently had no problem with asking. Or begging. Or being honest with what he wanted. He'd been told this was both refreshing and annoying by different people.

"I can taste," he said matter-of-factly; how he managed it while still having his jaws around the wood of the broom though, was a minor miracle. It probably had a lot to do with the fact he had no meat or skin, which meant his mouth remain 'open' enough to let sound pass through, even though his teeth her clenched around the wood. Then again, that begged the question of where the sound was coming from, seeing as he had no real vocal cords, but then again, pondering things further might be unwise, "I can taste this wood, just like I could taste you if I licked you," he suddenly felt the need to elaborate, so he continued, "I have a tongue," he said it almost as if he were telling poor Coralie some sort of large secret. It was probable that had he not been bitting the broom, he'd have stuck his tongue out for her to see.

"Just cause you can't see it don't mean it ain't there," he seemed to be answering her earlier question about organs now, "At least in essence anyhow," he'd seen the way she'd jumped back, and now his permanent, skeletal grin seemed just a touch cockier. Or... as cocky as a smile could be when someone was both bitting a broom and pretty much begging to be petted.

In his defense, he couldn't really go ask people to scratch him, or pet him, or otherwise indulge him; it would be weird. Asking someone that had already performed the task without him prompting them to? Yeah, he was game for that. Plus, he had no shame; he'd come to notice that shame didn't really get him anywhere, and most certainly didn't get him what he wanted. As she spoke, his head tilted to one side just slightly, "Tickle you?" he tried as he lifted one of his wings, aiming it at her as if it were one gigantic arm, "You've got nowhere to run. And I think your cat almost had a heart attack."

"In essence," he said as she raised a brow at him, "I still get sad, or happy, or feel pain and shizz. Even if you can't see it, it's still there, in essence," he was mostly talking about the heart and his gut; gut feelings were extremely important. Morton was pretty sure that was were instinct was born, as strange as it sounded, "Not everything is what it looks like - specially not here. You know that as well as I do," he also knew how impossible it was to explain how things 'worked' in Halloween town logically.

He snorted, the puff of air blown through the hole in his skull where his nose should have been, "Tongues are extremely useful, I'll let you know. I can technically 'eat'. It'd just be messy. I can still taste s**t though! And lick people," though why he'd ever want to do that was probably a mystery.

Alas, Morton had caught the way her eyes had narrowed, and his also narrowed in turn, "Mhmmm? Then I guess it's okay if I do thiiiiiis..." his wing stretched out more and then began to lightly travel along her side, the long bone fingers tickling away with surprising ease. It was almost as if Morton were used to using his wings as extra limbs; albeit ones without... opposable thumbs, and thus, rather useless in most situations.

In all honesty though, no, he had nothing better than 'this' at the moment, seeing as how hurting her was really the last thing on his mind.