Entry tags:
oldbetsy | Ghosts n' Stuff
Who's that weirdo stalking around the girls' dorm building?
Mutters and dirty looks weren't exactly subtle as they trailed him around campus, but for what it's worth, Larry has long since learned to shrug off dirty looks. At least when they were directed at himself. As it is, the suspicious looks and creeped out muttering go seemingly unregistered as he focuses down on a device in his hands that looks suspiciously like a Gearboy. Occasionally he stops, squeezes down on the shoulder buttons of the game system, then moves on with a deep frown.
There are moments that he has to stop and apologize when he bumps into someone, and more than once they start to yell, at least until they realize that he's already walking away from them after a cursory 'sorry 'bout that'. It's only when he pauses to perch on the back of one of the campus benches to thumb impatiently at his phone that he even stops at all, still looking down with that almost constipated frown and paying no mind to anyone else.
Still with the staring and the stink eye. You'd think they'd never seen a ghost hunter before.
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From there it's a one-sided conversation as far as Helga can hear, a confirmation of presences here linked to the old disappearances. It's over quickly, and he turns to her to explain as he snaps his phone shut again.
"I got a bad feeling about those disappearances." There's a grimace on his face as he looks back at the ghost girl. "Maybe it's not related, but I gotta be sure. Nockfell's fucked but maybe nowhere else has to be."
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Helga can't help the sort of shaky snort she gives. "Yeah, what gave you bad vibes first?". She winches at her own sarcasm though, realizes she's about to break his arm here with her hold and sets him loose as she gives a long sigh.
"I dunno, Nockfell got a lot of disappearances? Could always ask the lady of the night herself." Here she hooks a thumb to Miss Ghost herself.
Welcome back from formatting hell.
He steps into the stall and glances around at the somewhat grimy surfaces to see if maybe there was an anchor around the area keeping the ghost there. She wasn't responding to his presence that he could tell at any rate.
"Oh yeah. Teachers, randos, the people that worked in the old saw mill, and those are just the ones we know about."
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Her expression scrunches up at that. Did he live in the Bermuda Triangle or something? She's still outside the stall herself but she thinks to squat down and peer around the floor for anything.
And as her gaze catches something she recalls the whole cult business he mentioned earlier. It must be real serious then and her stomach squirms a little at the thought.
"Remind me not to come visit." Then, "There's something behind the toilet, on the floor near the base."
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To his credit, he doesn't ask her to come in and help him find anything. He has the experience here, out of the two of them. There's no reason that she should be forced to put herself in danger any more than she already has.
"Why do you think I haven't invited you to come by and meet my friends?" he snorts, craning his head as he crouches down and catches sight of what Helga had noticed. There's a moment that he hopes it's just something dead back there, or maybe something accidentally dropped, but the longer he looks, the more he realizes that it had to have been wedged there deliberately.
"Wish I had some fuckin' gloves," he mutters as he reaches back to try and pull it out.
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Honestly she hadn't even given it another thought. She was so used to being removed from people's typical friend groups anymore that being that 'one person on the side who isn't quite a friend but you talk to them' isn't that shocking. She chatted with girls in her dorm but she sure wouldn't call any of them friends.
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He plops himself down to sit on the bathroom floor, turning over the little bundled thing in his hands and unwrapping the dirty rag around it. He makes a sad sound upon realizing that he was holding a small book, and as he peeks at the first page, it's obvious it's a diary.
"Man, I don't wanna read this... Probably has evidence for why she's in here, though. Man..."
He pockets it, rather than trying to read the diary in front of the person he assumes is the owner. They could go through it on their own time. The ghost herself doesn't seem to be the violent type, so he's pretty sure they can just leave her here for a little longer.
"C'mon, let's get outta here before people start yelling about a guy in a women's bathroom."
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Still she gets it. Casting a glance to the ghost herself Helga decides she looks more tired and dejected than outright scary, even if she's kind of roughed up around the edges... or more than that. It makes her feel sort of sad but it's an emotion she pushes off with her typical grace.
She hitches her thumb over her shoulder, walking backwards out of the stall for absolutely no particular reason at all, nope.
"C'mon, we'll hit up my room. If you don't want to read it I will." She cracks a faint smirk, though without it's usual sarcastic edge. "I'm kind of an expert on diaries."
She pauses where she stands out of the bathroom stall itself and flicks her gaze to the ghost again. She doesn't point but it's pretty obvious who she's addressing here. "Long as you don't care. I can't imagine you do though." Her tone implies Helga totally gets why she wouldn't either, even if she doesn't know a damn thing about said spook just yet.