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Two Voices

And then, there it was again: a breathy little whisper when he thought it was safe again to go in his bed, more soft words to keep him from falling asleep:

help me
no
get out
help
out

mixed messages: the ghost either looking to him with a pleading demand that he do what he can, or gravelly tone demanding that he leave the room at once, so that they [yes, they] could rest in peace. Maybe Ever was taking it a bit too far. Maybe he wanted to see if Zac would actually retreat to another room, or the basement. And maybe he watched from the field out back, sprawled out and smoking a cigarette, to see if the kid ran once he'd stopped delivering his messages.

Two Voices –

It was very close to being the last straw. Two voices bickering that he should leave the room so he could rest in peace. There was a very close moment where he nearly just flat out lost his temper before something, something he had ALMOST pieced together in dreams…clicked.

It honestly clicked because he rolled out of bed and stared wildly around for the sound of the voices, only to find he could…barely hear them. When he leaned closer, he could hear them more clearly. The corner of his eye twitched as a name clicked into place, and his hands balled into fists as he stood there in the dark room scowling at the bed.

-Someone- had made a stink about him being on this floor, not suffering through the hauntings and spiders and blood soaked rooms that the basement purportedly held.

Someone who’d taken up enough of the hallway that he’d needed to ask for help to make sure his antique tattooing tools weren’t damaged by accident.

Someone… had been looking pretty DAMN tired himself.

That same someone… probably had a vested interest in seeing him suffer the way that he himself had, at least purportedly suffered.

.. Question was, how was he going to PROVE it? <********.” He snarled anyhow, more on principal than fact, and had a brief yet satisfying urge to give the man a very impromptu ‘tattoo’ by dipping one of his chisels and giving him a firm SMACK to the hand. Sadly the tool would probably be broken in the resultant struggle.

He moved back to the bed and lifted the mattress, searching it for some sign of a microphone, including running his hand along the edges and feeling to see if he could find some sign of an incision.

Temptation was to snap the headset in two, maybe jump up and down on it a few times but he thought better of it. Someone on this island… owned this headset and that meant someone knew who owned it.

He gritted his teeth and drummed his fingers, staring at it, trying to decide if whoever was on the other end of this could hear him so he took a breath and carefully put it –back.

At least knowing what the voices were he thought he might be able to ignore it, get some sleep, and cost whomever was at the other end sleep too, unless it was a tape recorder, lord only knew.

If he couldn’t…well, he’d move the damn thing and see what turned up from there.

Party Crasher

It would be a surprisingly long time, actually, before Even woke up -- around, perhaps, when she reached a -- crescendo. He came to all at once, sitting up sharply and blinking around him. Uncomprehending, it took him just a bit to focus enough to realize that Cee had the headset in hand --

"Jesus Christ, Cee, what are you doing?"

And that, too, would carry to Zac's ears.

It was definitely time to crash this party. He’d gotten up with the start of the cheezy porn music, listening with growing amusement at the odd turn this whole rather evil prank had taken. ‘What are you wearing’ nearly made him laugh out loud but instead he got up, quietly as he could and made his way to the door and out into the hall with the equipment in toe.

He rather thought he knew one of the voices at least, and what better place to check than the offenders room. Or at least, the suspected offenders room, though really…it was a good bet.

He’d pause outside for a moment with his hand around the speaker to try and muffle it, listening before knocking on the door.

He wasn't really dressed to be paying visits, but if people wanted to go around playing jokes they got 'pajama pants' visits.

Cee flung open the door, leaving Ever in his underwear behind her. Both looked ruffled, her even having some hair pulled loose from her usually impeccable Amy-Winehouse-esque bun.

"Well hullo." She leaned and draped in the door frame, a round hip jutting out to block him from walking in if he planned to. She had a definite air of 'nothing going on here nope nothing no one here but us chickens'.

"Can I uh... help ya?" Grin.

Ever looked exasperated for about a count of three, but -- maybe he was used to it. Or maybe it was just a matter of going with the flow. He settled back against the bed, elbows on the mattress and skinny legs sprawled, in boxers that had bunnies in them, watching Cee handle it from the door.

"That's island property," he offered to Zac, somewhat lazily as he pointed to the headset. Fully recovered by now, goofy as he looked, rumpled as his own hair was. A flash of a smile travelled across his face.

"You should probably return it back to the quartermaster." He rubbed at his face and looked to Cee. "The quartermaster? Maybe just Life labs..."

Ever's reply was brief: a rolling gesture that said all yours to Cee. Zac wasn't exactly pinging right now to him, and he'd hardly want to interfere in Cee's fun.