"A Jolteon," Balthazar catches Cold Stare's muttering but does not say anything herself-one of the Eeveelution lines, she wasn't expecting that. With these numbers, the kid would be royally screwed if he was dumb enough to think of fighting them. Jolteons weren't exactly known for their durability in battle, after all. "You've got eyes on you, broski. Come out slow, I'll see if you make any move." The Jolteon is probably ready to piss himself-hell, it's written all over his face-and he has no choice but to leave the thin safety of the darkness. Balthazar gives the newcomer a look-over: Jolteons were naturally thin, but this one doesn't look battle-hardened or even slightly tough. The bandana, though...Trainer-owned? Or simply a pet? Wild Pokemon rarely bothered to take human-made accessories. If he was human-owned, then perhaps his unimpressive appearance wasn't all there was to it...or maybe he was only a dumbass kid. Balthazar wasn't getting her hopes up.
"Sorry if I alerted you all, I was searching for a place to stay and I had no idea you all was hiding out in here." Yeah, this one was a dumb kid, and by all accounts harmless. He'd stumbled along straight into the midst of an entire group, but lucky for him, they weren't about to rip his face off. Merle would if he had the chance, but that was a trivial detail; the rest of them, including Balthazar herself, they weren't so quick to bite. Unless you try something so outrageously stupid that killing you would be a mercy. She flicks her tail, suddenly annoyed by the thought. Balthazar has no desire to kill random kids, yet her thoughts always took her there every time. Damn. Now even her own mind was playing these idiotic games...well, she has no intention of playing along. Those thoughts could go fuck themselves for all she cares.
"My name is Sparkster."
"...Name's Balthazar." It feels almost pointless to her to add that in, but names always seemed like some magical way to get people to trust you more. Though the Jolteon's opinion of her is worth less than the purple, rotting Rattata from downstairs, Balthazar really does not want more annoying chatter about trusting so-and-so and whatever. It always went in useless circles.
"Some free advice, it's better not to draw the undead to you. And if you feel the burning need to, do it away from our tower." Four years into this shitfest; this should have been common knowledge, not something "Sparkster" was only now discovering to be true. This was going to be so interesting. At least Aaden has it covered, and was certainly a far more calming presence for the petrified stranger than her or the other "demon" hounds. Maybe he can keep the kid from trying to run and attracting the attention of whoever-whatever-had decided to start their own personal roast. "Is there anyone else who came in with you? Anything else you wanna tell us now before we finish looking around and find out anyway?"
Balthazar looks the Jolteon in the eyes; if he was faking being afraid, he was doing a damn good job of it. Best speak up, kid.