He didn't understand what was with the singing. Singing here, screeching there ... it just made no sense to him. Was it an instinctive urge upon joining the coastline pack like some sort of ritual or culture? Would he, god forbid, have to start singing too? Questions breaching on horror flooded his mind. There was no escape. No escape from the sounds, from those who took it upon themselves to burst everyone's eardrums far and wide. He thought about fleeing, considered it seriously for a few seconds before, once again, he could not stand it. 

"What is wrong with you people?" The boy gasped in faux horror, scowling all the same; striding up to the strange looking woman with as much confidence as an Alpha. And such an awful tune it was. Who wandered about chanting about some baby and stars and shining and moving on? It was ridiculous, absurd and entirely unprofessional. Did Kjalarr allow such atrocities to carry on like this? The abnormality of it all? If he didn't, Jackrabbit would not be the one to disclose such information. Maude the sea wench had been some sort of exclusion to the punishment Jackrabbit thought those who sung deserved, simply because Maude was the beta. This psycho looking woman didn't really carry the stench of power like Kjalarr did. Therefore, his abrupt and inconsiderate question was completely warranted. Such blatant behavior had to be corrected, he figured. The reasoning behind his phobia of the warbling was unknown to him, and he didn't really care. What didn't suit the youthling was instantly a mistake to society, and seeing as the behavior went completely uncontrolled, he needed an answer the erratic personalities of the Saltwinter pack.

The boy wasn't exactly sure what she was trying to prove, or why she even bothered trying to make herself look scary when she clearly wasn't. Instead, the blood on her face looked really just looked kind of unsanitary and added to the whole deranged and crazed look she was going at. When her hackles raised, he was more concerned about her attempting to eat him alive rather than putting him in his place. Honestly, he wouldn't be supervised if she pulled out her dead grandmother's hip bone to wield as a hat or something; one could never be to sure in the face of a truly mentally disturbed being such as the thing he faced before him.

I mean, who the feck used blood as a facial decoration??

A kind of disturbed and clearly uncomfortable look developed on his face as he stared at her; some poor guy's blood peeling off her face before his eyes. Whatever had possessed Kjalarr to accept this thing in his pack was probably something Ondine put there, and she probably had a whole purse full of tiny brain eating demons that she tucked into their tiny beds each night as she kissed their foreheads and sang Kumbaya on repeat. “I don’t know if anyone had ever told you this, but, you should really stop with the whole blood thing. It really adds to your already repelling personality and overall deterring exterior and i’m not sure I feel entirely safe knowing you exist next door,” It came out as a rush, but, one he did not regret. I mean, someone had to tell her, right? Unless it was some religious thing, he really hoped she took the highroad and did them all a favor and didn't kill some guy, harvesting his blood and wearing his skin as a new coat like he assumed she got up to on her free time. 

Or, perhaps he was overreacting. He wasn't sure he actually cared.

The boy was not entirely sure what had caused him to outright insult the Gamma, nor did he particularily care. Perhaps it was the feeling of utter free will or maybe just he was an undiciplined, teenage boy with little care for who his words affected. Nodding readily, the boy broke at a run once the sea wench quit yapping, he did not need to hear what he could and could not do from a woman who knew nothing of what him and what he had already survived. “Nice talk!” He called only after he had sprinted a few meters, winking only once before he returned to his place of hiding.