тнє Ⓓєsєят --- p r i v a t e

[hair band J U N K I E]

Marie was silently hoping that this spirit would understand. But nope....the exact opposite. And for the fact that he mocked her just sent her back into that mass level of irritation, letting out a quiet exhale as he eyes narrowed. When he began to saunter towards her, she didn't back away, no...she stood her ground. It was probably a very stupid thing to do, but that's what happened when her pride kicked in. She was just as bad as any man when it came to that. She was scared shitless, no doubt, but that wasn't enough this time.

What had curled up onto her lips next was a grin. Not a normal grin, not a happy grin, but it was a certain grin that when she of all people attained it, you'd better sleep with one eye open.(Or at least that's what her former co-workers would tell you. x3) "You're going to fight me, I see." Her voice was quiet, staring back up at him. She showed no fear, despite how much it was wallowing within her.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Fine." She began to back up towards the door. She opened it behind her, her eyes not leaving his for a second. "But I will be back. And I will deal with you." And at that, she had turned on her heel and slipped out of the building, taking out her ignition keys to the truck from her pocket. She was honestly expecting to hear the door slam behind her, or even hear the building itself going ballistic. His type of entity seemed like the type to throw a tantrum.

[Lady March Hare]

“Ah...” she tracked his movement across the room with her eyes, and then gave the man a friendly smile as he reached the door and gave his farewell. “Likewise, Russell. Likewise.”

That carefree smile stayed on her lips as the door closed and for several long seconds afterwords. Only then did the expression slip into one of mild suspicion; she tilted her head to the side and listened for any indication of where he was going or how. Did she do it because she had the intense feeling he was not who he said he was? No, not really. Did she do this because she had a sudden burst of insight that informed her that he just might be a ghost? Not even close. Oli was a con artist and, according to psychology, was prone to projecting the same trait on to others. Any smiling face could be like the one she used, and since there was only room for one con in this little money making scheme she was somewhat paranoid. Only after silence was restored did she follow the path he had taken out the front door, coming to a halt a hand's distance from where the ghost had faded away. Ignorant as par usual she leaned forward to peer to either side of the porch with a small frown; she wasn't sure whether she was relieved or even more suspicious when there was no trace of the mysterious repairman.

“Hmm.” the young woman chewed on her bottom lip in thought, then shrugged to herself. Con or not he was gone now, and somewhat appeased she moved back inside and shut the door firmly behind her, locking it soundly. Directing her attention back to the kitchen Oli brushed her hair back from her face as she got back to work. After all, she had groceries to store... and a third shelf to check.

[Lady March Hare]

Considering, the girl made the right decision; had she chosen that moment to crack and flee from him in a panic she might have been pelted with whatever he could pry lose... he never had had much time for chivalry. But she stared him down, scared, no doubt, but grinning. Grinning! He had to admit, she had mettle; the part of him that wasn't completely pissed off by her standing up to him was impressed.

"Deal with me...?" he repeated, his tone colored with disbelief. "Deal with me?! You?!"

She was out the door in a flash; not the sort of 'I'm terrified out of my mind' flash, but in the 'I can't be bothered with this conversation anymore' flash. She'd even taken the time to shut the door behind her. Carter's eyes flashed and he saw red; was she brushing his threat off?! What remained of the cleaning supplies swept up abruptly into the air and twisted in a wild arch and every light in the bar grew brighter and brighter until they all shattered in perfect unison. The shadows grew to reclaim the space between the window-light as the almost musical chiming of bulb shards and the heavy clops of the bottles pounded to the floor. And then there was a long silence, the figure remaining still and furious. And then, quiet unexpectedly, the urge to chuckle in a rather diabolical fashion hit him.

She was going to fail, that much was certain. But she was hardcore, and for some reason that was hilarious.

He didn't burst into merry laughter, of course; it was not his thing. The amusement was short lived, and with renewed resolve he set his mind to planning just how he would turn his haunting zone back into the silent frustration it used to be.

[hair band J U N K I E]

About a week had passed, and even though Russell didn't do anything too extreme, he still didn't exactly leave the house quiet. Once again, he was at it with the mental games. When Oli would turn a light off, he'd wait a few minutes before turning it back on, just because he knew that she'd think she left it on. He did that several times...along with being a bit immature and constantly playing ding-dong ditch, just the knocking version. He'd knock, and just stand there and watch her as she looked to see, knowing downright that she couldn't see him. While she'd try to sleep, he'd flick a lock of her hair every now and again, not being able to help himself. Needless to say, he was keeping himself occupied.

Figuring that today wasn't going to be any different than the rest, he had left her alone for the majority of the morning and afternoon. He normally would've been tired of bothering her, and would need rest, if he were alive. But there were certain feelings that he couldn't possess anymore. That included fatigue, pain...well, that was it, but still, those were major. Upon hearing Olivia's voice on the phone down in the den area, he suddenly phased himself so that he was in that room as well. He blinked, bringing himself over and taking a seat in the chair beside her, watching her and wanting to know who she was on the phone with. The air around them got slightly colder, and he had the power to make it flat out freezing, but he didn't want to be a distraction for the moment.

Russell tuned up his hearing, closing his eyes...and upon hearing that all too familiar voice, he couldn't help but snicker. Mr. Peters. Hah, oh...he had to admit, it was nice to hear the old man's voice again. Soon, that's when the subject was onto the repairman that frequently stopped by. He opened his eyes once more, his smirk growing wide, devious. Ohhh-ho-ho, he just couldn't wait. Because he knew that Mr. Peters told it like it was, and didn't bullshit.

[hair band J U N K I E]

That night once Marie was off the adrenaline high she was on when she challenged this restless spirit, she flat out went into a state of panic. What in the hell was she thinking?! Challenging a spirit? And one that could possibly hurt her at that?! She was clearly insane! And so sure enough, what did she end up doing? Well one particular bottle of Jose Cuervo strait mexican tequila became her bestest best friend. So there she was, being a ranting drunk about how she's going to be killed. Unfortunately, that's when Vince had heard her and asked her what she was talking about, and since when you're intoxicated you have no control over what comes out of your mouth, she spilled the beans. About the things flying, about what the spirit looked like, about how he threatened her, and she didn't think a single thing about this because her head was spinning, and she had soon passed out afterwards.

And upon how she described him, and just his nature, Vince knew who it was right off the bat. It made him massively curious and at the same time, it infuriated him that if it were really Carter's spirit(which he was convinced it was), that he'd do such a thing to his granddaughter, she could've been hurt. He refused to accept the fact that she could take care of herself for the most part, he'd always be over-protective. And this is what gave him the insentive to finally go back to the Steel Coyote after all these years. So now he drove side by side Marie on his own vintage Harley that he's had for almost fourty years now.

Sure enough, they both pulled up into the place, and after turning off his chopper and placing it, he slung his leg off and stood. He had the similar appearance to a viking. He was around 6"3, and he had long grey hair that used to be dark down to his mid-back and tyed in a low ponytail with a bandana on top of that. He had a long, scraggly white beard to go along with it. He was built like a wrestler, not having tattoo sleeves necessarily, but many tattoos were splattered all over his arms, a couple on his neck, and a lot on his shoulders and back. His skin was tan and leathery from years of being out in the desert, all and all just a very intimidating old man. He wore a pair of brown work boots, worn out faded jeans held up by a leather belt, and a white cotton undershirt with his leather jacket over that.

Marie was about to go and open the door, when a strong arm of Vince's came out and kept her back, just getting an unsafe feeling. He slowly turned the knob and opened the door, his other hand then coming up and pushing his shades up onto the surface of his bandana. It revealed those worn, wrinkly eyes that have seen so much. He narrowed them as he glanced around.

Marie was behind him, letting out a sigh. "He made a mess." She shook her head, folding her arms as she looked around the place. It was easy to see the family resemblence, they had the same facial features, hers were just more feminine of course.

"Ah, well...he's been known to be one hot-headed son of a b***h." Vince muttered. That clearly gave it away that his presence was real, he knew that Marie wouldn't trash the place after spending so long cleaning it up.

Marie gave him a look after that, having no idea what her grandpa was talking about. Apparently he knew him well? Gah, she was so lost..

[Lady March Hare]

Olivia's week was a good one, and at the end of it she was filled with that completely unfounded self-confidence once again. Some dumb kids kept knocking on the doors and taking off before she could catch them at it, which was annoying, and there were so many light switches in the house that she kept forgetting which she had turned on and which she had turned off, which was inconvenient, but on a general whole it was a good week. She had 'gotten to work removing the spirit', burning sage at the windows and doors and talking the nonexistent spirit into peacefully evacuating the premises in favor of the world beyond... or whatever. It was the same speal she had used in the other 'exorcisms' she had preformed; it got her the money, and that was what really mattered. She had a nice set up in the home of Mr. Peters... but she had to admit, it couldn't drag on for much longer. All she would need is one overzealous neighbor or store cleark and she'd have people asking questions again -- never a good thing. So she went ahead and called Mr. Peters, more then ready for the remainder of her deposit.

“...and the house has been quiet ever since.” she said with a smile, sprawled across a comfy chair with the house phone receiver cradled to her ear (no way she was resting her precious prepaid minutes when there was a phone provided!) “Problem solved, Mr. Peters. The restless spirit that resided here has found peace and moved into the light. I've finished up the cleansing process and I'm extremely pleased to report that your house is ghost free and ready for you to move back in.”

"Ghost free..?" Mr. Peters' voice crackled over the line, and the girl's astute intuition detected the slightest bits of disbelief in his tone. There was a short, thoughtful silence before the man continued. "No... no, I don't believe you're done. He wouldn't leave that place that easily, Miss. Henderson. Russell is very attached to the old place, you know."

“Russell?” the young woman blinked, pausing her repetitive smoothing of her ruffly black skirt hem against her knee. Her lips twitched into a smile and she did her best to repress a laugh as she continued. “No, no... not that guy, Mr. Peters. I'm here for the ghost, not the repairman. Though I could look into getting the key off of him if you really want him gone.”

"Repairman? What repairman?"

“The one who fixes things for you since things keep breaking. He said you'd made a key for him. I wish you'd told me a guy like that would be around, Mr. Peters; I nearly had a heart attack when he just appeared in the kitchen like that.” she sighed, rubbing the skin of her arms the capped sleeves of her fitted green shirt couldn't cover. Despite the slightly frustrating conversation she smiled at the descending coolness; the central heating and air in this place was so strange, sometimes. She blinked and then continued in a slight rush. “Not that I've been going around breaking your things or anything...”

"That must be him..." Mr. Peters breathed, a clear hint that he wasn't listening to most of what the young woman was saying. Before she could properly get insulted by that he spoke softly, almost to himself. "That sounds like some sort of trick he'd pull. He calls himself Russell, but I suppose he could be anyone. There's so much history in that old place, but I've never really dug into any records to see who passed through, or who he really was. He died there, I guess... but I really don't know how."

“Wait.” she said slowly. “You're saying--”

"Whoever introduced himself as my repairman, Russell; he is the spirit that haunts the place." the man said dryly. "As you're probably beginning to realize, Miss. Henderson, he likes to play games."

Olivia blinked owlishly, the gears turning slowly in her brain. She started abruptly into a proper sitting position in the chair, hair tumbling over her shoulders as she gripped the phone a bit tightly to her ear. Was he serious? Something about the way he was talking told her that he was. Logical explanations flared and fizzled almost instantly in her mind; in the end there were only two things that made sense, considering the circumstances. She had either met a young man with an extra key and a sick sense of humor that included tricking old men into believing their homes were haunted... or that had been a real live (figuratively) ghost she had shaken hands with that night in the kitchen. Both options gave her a headache.

"Miss. Henderson?"

“Still here.” she replied automatically. She had been halfway out the door that morning; she had casually gathered her things, put on her 'innocent, benevolent young lady' clothes; the works! But apparently she wasn't going anywhere; not yet, at least. She hadn't seen the mysterious ghost/repairman since that day... did that mean her bullshit exorcism acts had actually worked?! No way... it was all a scam; that was impossible! Still... “Mr. Peters... maybe I jumped to conclusions. I'm sorry; I'll take another look around free of charge. When I'm positive with... what we're dealing with here, I'll call you back.”

Mr. Peters made a generic noise that the blonde took as an agreement, and she set the phone back in the receiver before it could deliver her anymore bad news. Almost instantly she started to her feet, determined to do something... but what should she do? She'd never had to deal with a real ghost before!! She bit her lip hard and shook her head; no, no, no, Oli; don't freak out about the strangest possibility when the jackass possibility was still on the table. It was on the edge of the table, but it was still on board. She would... she would... she would go into town and see if anyone knew of a guy matching Russell's description. Track him down and prove it; that was the ticket! ...yeah. Sure.

[Lady March Hare]

A week was a long time in Carter's messed up way of 'living'. Time was a sneaky, sneaky devil; when night fell it was almost impossible for him to tell what day had just ended and what day was soon to begin. Couple that with his ability to become so immersed in his emotions that he couldn't tell when time did pass, and the dead biker was even worse at telling when he was as a two year old. All he knew was that it had been a longer stretch of time since since the defiant woman had left then had spanned between her first visit and her second. He was 90% sure. 80% sure. ...more then 50% sure. Maybe.

He passed his days as he passed his days, pacing and making a bad mess worse when he wasn't bored and idle, trying to find something to occupy his wandering mind. Sometimes he found himself standing at the window, staring listlessly out at the empty lot that wrapped around the Coyote. He wasn't the listlessly staring type, so catching himself doing it usually resulted in a fun round of throwing things around. Of course, it didn't take long for him to realize he wasn't just listlessly staring (of course not), he was watching for Vince's granddaughter, the woman who's name he didn't even know. She had seemed so alight with determination, with rage, with stubborn, raw will... considering the fact that she had returned despite her obvious fear the first time, he had expected her to be back by now. Maybe it had all been an act? Maybe she had just gotten out and kept going, never to be seen back inside The Steel Coyote again? That thought would cross his mind often and would be quickly dismissed; after finding some fundamental respect for the young woman he didn't want to think that she'd take off like that... at least without admitting defeat first. Not that he could really see Vince ever teaching his granddaughter admit to defeat in any way, shape, or form, but the thought relaxed him anyway.

At the moment the sound of motors filled the air again Carter wasn't at his somewhat usual place before the window. He was in the back storage room, sitting on a long abandoned crate and moving supplies around without touching them. In his more lucid moments he would practice this particular aspect of his abilities. In his lifetime he'd had a temper and was constantly having to guard himself with checks and balances to keep himself from flying off the handle and beating someone in the head with a bar stool for no particular reason; it took about the same set of mental rules to do this now that he was a ghost. The sounds were faint from the back, but Carter would recognize the sound of motors anywhere; as he looked back through the doorway to the main portion of the bar the rusted cans he had been levitating clattered to the floor, not breaking but making a heck of a mess. He wasn't distracted by this; he slid into invisibility in the blink of an eye before moving from the back room, his eyes bright and alert. He got about halfway to the door before it swung open, and Carter went deathly still (no pun intended).

The girl was back, to be sure, and this time she hadn't come alone. The man at her side was older, but there was no mistaking him: Vince had returned to The Steele Coyote. The twisting frustration flipped in his chest again, and before he knew it he was pacing restlessly back and forth. The relatives were murmuring to one another but it was difficult for Carter to focus on their words. It was the first time he had seen his former boss in ages, since that day. The empty light sockets rattled softly as he passed them, sending a underlying tremor rippling through the old biker's hangout. His first impulse was to speak to the only man he really looked to as a guide when he was alive... but what would he say? 'Hi, I've been lurking here in your bar all these years and oh, by the way, sorry about terrorizing your granddaughter'? Nope; that wouldn't work; not in a million years. His pacing increased in speed so that fragments on the floor skittered out of his way.

What the ******** can I say?!

Any other ghost might have faded back, stayed silent until those who were causing him and his place of occupation such stress took their leave. But that would be running away, and had the thought even crossed his mind he might have tried blowing up the light sockets again. He would run out of things to break eventually, but this dilemma was not going to go away.

[hair band J U N K I E]

Russell had let his position get even more casual, leaning forward and letting his elbows rest on his kneecaps, his hands laced together. His eyes took in every single emotion that played on Olivia's face, which was pretty damn constant, it was like watching a silent motion picture but with actual sound and clear color. He does know what 'movies' are now, but he's just comparing. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the jigg was finally up---she knew that he wasn't a repairman, or that he wasn't exactly one of the breathing, the living.

Once she hung up the phone, he sat there and watched her, almost beginning to hum to himself from the delight he had from how freaked out she was. The look on her face, just priceless, he wished there was a camera laying around so he could grab it and snap a shot of it. So now the question was, did he show himself to her once more? Since she had to know that he was what he was now, or does he just continue messing with her? Well....even though the games were a total blast, he had to say that it was getting a little old. When it came to the mental games, he took note that Oli's reactions never seemed to change at all. He doubted they'd be changing in the future if he tried anything, either.

Alright, well....here goes nothin'.

So within a time lapse of a few seconds, Russell had slowly allowed himself to solidify and come into view, keeping the same position as a quirky smile played onto his lips, eyes sparkling as he kept his eyes on her. He cleared his throat. "Well now, it looks like cards are on the table now, eh, Oli?" He asked in an almost sing-songy voice, tilting his head to the side.

[hair band J U N K I E]

Now, normally....Vince wasn't the type of guy to get involved in the whole spiritual bullshit. But it was for the fact that everything puzzled together here. And also, it wasn't the first time Marie has been drunk with him around.(Ah, family bonding. xD) She was the type of drunk that admitted things that she'd want to keep to herself. Hell, that's how he found out about Emmaline(her grandmother) moved onto getting married to some retired business hotshot. This was the real s**t here. He looked back to Marie, letting out a sigh and folding his arms across his chest. He couldn't keep this part of his past from her anymore, he had to come clean.

"Michael Carter, he....he died here." Vince spoke quietly, watching his granddaughter for a moment, before looking out the open door. He closed his eyes, somewhat reliving that night. "Back when myself and the Los Diablos were still in our hayday, there were two hitmen from a gang rivaling with us that tried to kill me one night here. Before I even had time to think, I felt him limp against me all of a sudden. Apparently the gun barrel was about to blow out my heart and he took the bullet for me." Speaking that last bit was painful for him, his voice getting quieter to emphasize that.

The old man showed signs of his tender spot, that was only reserved for certain people, but obviously this called for it. He slowly opened his eyes, and they flickered to the side upon hearing fragments on the floor off to the side a bit scattering a bit on the ground's surface. He could hear him, he knew he could. "There hasn't been a day that's gone by where I haven't regretted not having the guys be more alert that night...because if I would've taken an extra precaution, well...Mikie might've still been around." He offered a weak grin, knowing that he used to get so pissed when he called him that, which is why he would do it. And at that, he turned around to face the moving particles, his eyes staring off in that direction. He did blame himself for what happened, even though there's nothing he could've done to know beforehand, but that's just how he was.

Oh, man...that made Marie's heart sink in her chest. Despite how aggrovated she was with...Michael Carter here for giving her such a hard time, she couldn't hold it against him anymore, not after knowing this. She came up to her grandpa's side, gently getting a comforting hold of his arm and letting the side of her face rest against it to console him.

"He can hear you, you know..."

"Yeah..."

[Lady March Hare]

It was stupid and undoubtedly the result of coming to the conclusion that a ghost was one of the logical options before her, but standing there in the den the girl couldn't help feeling that she wasn't alone. Always the type of person who tried her hardest to internalize her true feelings (to various degrees of success or failure), she swallowed hard and tried to take a deep breath to slow the heavy clumping of her heart. It would all be fine, juuust fine... she just needed to think. Think, think, think, think...

She shifted, maybe to try and shake out her jitters, maybe to initiate the running and screaming to the door a very strong part of her was advising, but when she moved something caught her eye in the chair right beside her. Instinctively wanting to face whatever was there head on she started into a turn, her eyes widening as she was able to watch the smiling ghost appear out of apparently nowhere. He had been right there?! Wasn't she supposed to notice something if spirits were nearby?! A medium she was not; in fact her ability to sense the paranormal appeared to be somewhere on the mentally deficient end of the scale. Well, at least one thing was for sure: it wasn't some local with a key and a wild imagination.

“Russell... you...” her throat was dry and she sounded like a child, stupid and scared. Completely aware of this fact she hugged her chest tightly, small things from the last few days standing out to her. The knocking. The lights. The chills (hey, she had noticed those! She wasn't a complete idiot!). And then the visit of Russell himself... all the things she'd said to a ghost that was silently laughing at her the whole time. Great; now not only was she freaked halfway to hell, she was embarrassed. And pissed. And annoyed with herself. “You a**! Y-you're dead! What the hell?!”

Not the smartest set of statements to say to a ghost, but Oli was not the smartest by far. Nor was she speaking out of bravery; she was the partially underhanded sort who didn't often fool around with that bravery stuff as it currently applied. What she would have expected from herself was a dash for her room, snagging her bags, and bolting out the door on the way to a new state and a new occupation. But she seemed frozen by disbelief; some part of her wouldn't let her run. That same part was pointing out the irony of the situation which, in case anyone was wondering, didn't help in the slightest.

[Lady March Hare]

Well, s**t; Carter didn't want to hear this. He knew he had died in this bar, he knew he had been shot, he knew it had been by a couple of punk asses from a rival gang; he didn't think about his murder outside of those vague memories. Maybe because it made him more restless then ever to remember, or maybe it was the obviousness of how little he could remember in any sort of detail that so unsettled him. Hearing the story from Vince, the only role model he'd ever had, made something inside of him queasy. Were ghosts supposed to feel queasy? Carter didn't give a damn, he just kept pacing. There was no escaping those words, and as Vince forced the story out Carter finally slowed to a stop, a hand flicking up almost subconsciously to rub at his chest. There was no hole there that he could see, not now...

Mikie...

He stood quietly as his lips twitched up into the slightest of smiles. He may have been dead and somewhat gone, but that damn nickname had survived the tests of time. How ironic was that?

Vince's next words shocked him, and the smile dropped abruptly from his face as his eyes snapped to his old leader's. Carter didn't like where this was going; though there were people still alive that without a doubt owed him something the biker was not one of them, especially if that something was anything like the apology that tinted his later words. Maybe it would be acceptable to send stuff flying to prevent such a thing from happening... or, maybe that was a bit too extreme, even for him. Materializing or speaking was an overreaction too... maybe if he just went quiet, calmed himself to stop all the buzzing and the rustling? Maybe that would... ah, he had no idea. Pacing made him feel, even if it was only slightly, like he was releasing the anxiety coiled in his chest. It was difficult to hold still, even when he looked back to the granddaughter and grandfather, comforting. That made it worse somehow, and the dead man muttered a steady stream of self directed curses under his breath as he paced.

[hair band J U N K I E]

Russell ended up letting out a laugh in amusement, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "Oh, stop it. Ya seemed to have been just fine around me before you were aware of what I am." He was trying to encourage the girl to have some integrity here, dignity.. "It's not like I have some white sheet o'er my head or somethin'." He joked with a boyish smirk. He wasn't going to deny it, he enjoyed being around the woman, whether she was aware of him being around or not. He hadn't done anything to hurt her, he hadn't done anything to totally and utterly traumatize her, so she had no reason to be freaking out like she was. Or at least from his point of view.

What did score Oli some points though was for the fact that she didn't automatically leap up from her seat, or scream, or run, or just totally lose her mind in general over him suddenly appearing. He wanted to believe it was because she had some bravery, some control over herself, composure. But it could be because he had worked her into being around her, so which reason, he wasn't sure.

"Well now..." He then stretched back and stretched his arms out, letting out a bear-like grunt as he did so before settling himself into the chair a bit more, watching her with a little grin. "Ms. Ghost Hunter, you've got me here. Anything ya wanna know, darlin'?" He inquired. That seemed to be what investigations always wanted; answers. There's been constant people that have come into the house, and instead of trying to have casual conversation with him, they drill questions at him. And since he had already done the first option, he figured it's time for the latter.

[hair band J U N K I E]

If anything, Marie was surprised, looking around the place. Oh now he wasn't going to be doing anything, eh? When it mattered now? Gah, that's so typical.

Vince had let out a deep sigh, his eyes full of sadness, and it was obvious that he felt guilty even though it wasn't even close to being his fault. Upon feeling Marie cling to his arm, he looked down to her with a small, warm little grin. Within a few seconds though however, his expression slipped into being slightly agitated. He was reminded of what Marie had told him, about doors being slammed and s**t flying around. It's a good thing he still didn't know about her cutting herself in one attempt to get out, or else he would've been furious.

He gently shook Marie off of his grasp, putting his hands on his hips as he slowly began to make his way around the perimeter, peering around with that intimidating, 'I'm-going-to-tell-you-like-it-is' face. "I really can't believe you'd treat my own flesh and blood in such a way," He began, coming to a stop as his eyes continued to scan the place like Predator. "You're a big boy, and I expect you to deal with whatever rage you have in a different manner. Marie here has her heart set on re-opening this place, she's not going anywhere. And if I hear any word of you being this way with her again, well.." His voice trailed off, letting out a low, maniacal cackle that would make anyone uneasy. "My days are numbered as it is right now, kid. And I gaurantee you'll regret it when my time comes." If he did threaten her again or do anything to hurt her, he would give him hell in the afterlife.

Naturally, Marie wasn't liking what she was hearing at the end of that, it was obvious she was unsettled. She didn't want to even bear the thought of when that inevitable time came, but she kept her mouths shut since she just knew he was trying to make a point.

[Lady March Hare]

Oli stared at him for a long moment, muscles still tense as her mismatched eyes narrowed into an irritated glare. The woman was, as could be assumed, very childish in ways. Integrity, bravery? No way. Pride and ruffled feathers? Absolutely. It took several long seconds for her to realize that she wasn't overly afraid; she was pissed. She made a living out of tricking other people and, as a result, often saw herself as above such tricks herself. This was blatantly untrue; the naivety that would be adorable from a child was nothing but a hindrance to the twenty-one year old, and her charge-then-think attitude often opened her up to it. Only dumb luck and paranoid had protected her thus far, and to have that little illusion had Oli battling the urge to puff her cheeks out and stamp her foot.

She could be an adult about this... yeah, she could... oh, wait, there were more important things to be worrying about. Like the ghost.

“Questions?” she looked at him incredulously, then let her breath out in an irritated sigh. “Why would I have any questions? The only thing I want to know is why Mr. Peters didn't tell me more about you before I got here. Like when I asked him if there was anything specific he'd like to mention about his little ghost problem. And why he didn't just tell me about you instead of that cryptic 'you'll see' that he gave me instead!”

That run on sentence/rant left her slightly breathless, and she lifted her hand to rub the bridge of her nose with a sigh.

“Sorry, sorry...” she apologized almost in default, exasperated. “I should have known something like this would happen despite how weird it is. I mean, a good thing never stays going long...”

[Lady March Hare]

Carter sighed as he watched his former boss prowl forward, shaking his head slowly. This was a side of Vince he remembered well; Carter had been on the receiving end of similarly stern lectures once or twice during his life. The ghost had absolutely no doubt that Vince not only meant every word he said, but was completely capable of what he threatened. Could one ghost cause another ghost harm? He had no idea, but even if they couldn't Carter had a sneaky feeling that Vince would be the exception. Still, the 'as it is' caught his attention, and he studied his former leader closely as the man's eyes roved over and past him without acknowledging him. Frowning, Carter glanced to the granddaughter in some impulsive hope to read meaning in his words off of her expression; too bad she only looked concerned, which was something he would have expected.

Apparently there was no real alternate option: Vince would be in battle mode as long as he thought his granddaughter was in danger. The old man could never be pissed off enough to erase the fact that Carter owed him a lot. As much as he hated the thought, he'd have to show himself. Just long enough to get across the point before disappearing again would suffice. And then he would have to occupy himself with a different sort of training: how to get the hell out of this bar. Though he couldn't put a finger on the exact why's, Carter had a feeling something about him wouldn't be able to handle the place if it opened again. So he moved away from the two, paced a bit in a wasted attempt to get it out of his system, and collapsed to slide into a bar stool. It took a lot more thought, but within seconds he was back in the visible plane, or as visible as one could be after one had successfully destroyed every artificial source of illumination.

"You can relax, old man... he muttered, audible to the living once again. Resting his elbows that weren't quite solid on the bar he leveled his bright two eyes on the pair, struggling to keep his expression blank. "She's a bigger pain in the a** then you are; it's not worth the energy it'd take to scare her off."