Welcome to Gaia! ::

Imhotep smirked. He didn't think it would be easy even with just that kind of information. Good thing he didn't come prepared. "Too bad that girl that you seemed to be family with doesn't know." He said wondering if she would turn around and face him now.

The nightclub was relatively quiet. There were a few people enjoying their drinks, and the music wasn't so loud one couldn't hear his own thoughts. The air was warm enough to be comfortable, and the lights were dim enough to be unsettling.

No one took notice of the ghost as he slid in through the open door. He had no eyes, and he kept his pale face blank. Although the ghost couldn't see, he could sense the energy from the few people remaining in the club. They appeared to him as little lights, like candles in a dark room. Each one had its own color, its own cadences.

"Hmmm...Interesting." His voice was soft, and colored with a rich Scottish accent. He tried studying each of the flickering lights, but had no success in identifying the one he had been searching for. He'd been looking for nearly twenty years now, and there was still no sign of that one.

The ghost's name was Zane Ashton Rivers. He was after his killer, and still had no success after so many years. He hadn't forgotten a moment of the night he was murdered. There had been so much blood. A brutal stab from behind had gone through one of his lungs, and he had seen the tip of the blade burst through his chest. And then the killer took his eyes.

That hatred for the one who murdered him had kept Zane tied to the mortal plane, and unless he found peace, he was trapped.

He kept his head down as he shuffled his way over to the bar and took a seat at the end of it, where he'd hopefully be unnoticed. He could just stay here for a while, and perhaps absorb some more energy without anyone seeing his eyes and panicking.

Zane nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a male voice address him. He lowered his head even more, hoping whoever it was didn't notice the bloodstains on his chest. He'd tried changing his shirt to hide the wounds, but they somehow always bled through. The bandages he wore helped, but not by much. At least he never dripped blood anywhere. That would really freak people out.

Zane extended his senses toward the presence that had spoken. It felt different than most others he'd felt. There was some kind of strength he didn't quite know how to describe. The light of the person flickered with a amber color, and it faded to brown at the edges.

The ghost's shoulders hunched as he tried to draw into himself. He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Ah, I-I don't really drink." He fidgeted and tightened his grip on the flute in his hand. He wasn't used to talking with people. His life for the past several years had consisted of playing his music, wandering around, and thinking about the life he no longer had. That said, he had no right to be rude to a stranger.

"But for you to notice someone who could use a drink, methinks you might go for one yourself..." He mentally slapped himself for sounding like an idiot. People usually went to places like this for drinks. Why else would the stranger be there?