“Too bad that’s not what I do,” she drawled, her fingers tapping impatiently on the counter. “I’ve just been around you for too long.” She’d been stuck with Damien since she was a little girl, though if she was being truly honest, she wouldn’t want to get rid of him if given the option. The products of washed up dreams and failures to live vicariously through their children, Lisette and Damien had all but broken away from the families and created a makeshift one of their own. “True,” was all she had to say, a snort escaping her when her friend directed his icy gaze towards the stranger at their table. It was strange, she supposed, that most of the people that streamed in and out of their apartment were wholly unfamiliar—ghosts included. “Poor blondie, he looks crushed. Should’ve bet on how long this one was gonna stay,” she commented with a hint of a smirk, low enough for only Damien to hear. “Maybe I would’ve won something. I mean, he lasted the fucking morning.”
"Probably,” he said, not bothering to look at the dejected blonde shuffling out of his room, like he’d been punched in the gut. He did make this clear that this was a one time thing, though. It wasn’t his fault that the boy got attached. “I mean even he defied my expectations. I’d guess you’d get my coffee as always. Like, the boss’ good stash that he imports from who knows where.” It was a dramatic ploy, full of overstatements and grand gestures, and he knew it. Doesn’t mean he won’t try and pick the lock to the shelf again. To be honest, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for Lisette, she’d been the one rock that stuck through the sea of bullshit that was his irritating life. He’d never say it, of course; he was too proud and as stubborn as a mule. Looking back to the blonde who was apparently still there, mouthing “call me”, prompting him to roll his eyes. “He really won’t go away,” he said, muttering, “Could you get some of your ghost friends to like, give him a message? Horror movie style?”
