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Post by Megan on Apr 10, 2016 22:42:52 GMT -5
"No."
It wasn't a reassurance.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 10, 2016 22:48:20 GMT -5
"Great!" He smiled, which wasn't super reassuring either, but was unfortunately nevertheless authentic. "I'm looking forward to our acquaintance."
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Post by Megan on Apr 11, 2016 16:12:45 GMT -5
"You get the downstairs, on account of your leg," Megan said, briskly returning to business as usual. "If you do go up to the third floor, just ignore the room with all the hissing and rumbling. It's a long story, but the door is locked for a reason and I'm trying to figure out how to take care of that problem."
As she spoke, a white mist had began to seep through the western wall and was beginning to coalesce into a vaguely human-shaped pillar; Megan glanced at it as she walked toward the sink.
"You're in the wrong house again. Go next door."
The pillar of mist withdrew silently, back through the wall, and vanished.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 11, 2016 21:11:05 GMT -5
He gave a tight-lipped nod, though his eyes had gotten very big.
"Spirits, huh?"
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Post by Megan on Apr 11, 2016 21:17:26 GMT -5
"The theater next door is haunted. Sometimes they get confused. It's either Edna St. Vincent Millay or Kim Hunter, so I guess I should probably use she. There's a theory it's Aaron Burr, but he's too busy trying to pick up coeds over at ESU."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 11, 2016 21:36:47 GMT -5
"Do they come here often?"
Unspokenly, should I be worried? Though it would be difficult to be really frightened of Edna St. Vincent Millay.
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Post by Megan on Apr 11, 2016 21:39:27 GMT -5
"No, not really. I'm serious about the third floor, though."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 11, 2016 22:08:13 GMT -5
"I don't need that kind of trouble anyway. Either way, it's too many stairs."
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Post by Megan on Apr 11, 2016 22:17:06 GMT -5
"Right," she said. "Well, you could probably use the rest, so feel free to go lie down. Obviously you know where the bathroom is on this floor. I think that's about it..."
She frowned in thought.
"Oh, right. There are going to be a lot of people coming in and out of here. No matter who they are or what they're doing, just keep your head down, even if you recognize them."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 13, 2016 22:36:10 GMT -5
He smiled convulsively from somewhere in the depths of her oversized robe.
"I know all about that. Good night, and sweet dreams."
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Post by Megan on Apr 18, 2016 9:37:55 GMT -5
*** At about seven the following morning, Megan rapped on the downstairs bedroom door.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 18, 2016 10:28:33 GMT -5
A small, pointy man answered. It was patently obvious that he hadn't had the chance to comb his hair, but there was slightly more color in his cheeks.
"May I help you?"
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Post by Megan on Apr 18, 2016 10:44:43 GMT -5
"Your clothes are dry," she said, holding them up. "They seem to have recovered decently. How about you?"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 18, 2016 14:54:35 GMT -5
"Well, you know -- I'm alive, that's not so bad, is it?"
He accepted the offer with an ingratiating little nod. He felt vulnerable enough when fully clothed, and he resented being swaddled in some hussy's housecoat.
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Post by Megan on Apr 18, 2016 15:13:27 GMT -5
"The others are asleep," she said, crossing her arms as he took the clothes. "Party hard, sleep hard, et cetera. I've got work at 10, so I'm cooking. Any restrictions, anything like that?"
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