The Phantom of Avenue B

My name is Jason Kealoha, and I'm 26 years old. Or I was. I died almost 30 years ago, in the winter of '88. But I like to think I have a pretty good sense of humor about the whole thing.

[captainmarcuszeng-blog]

Vivian gazes down at the envelopes. With one hand she places them on the counter, flipping through each of them and only stops when she finds the envelop with her name on it while with the other hand she carefully undoes her scarf and tosses it atop the two bags of groceries that weren’t really for her. She didn’t really need to eat normal food anymore, the groceries were merely there for the sake of keeping up appearances and if the others chose to saw it as an act of goodwill, well then better for her in the long run. She lifts her head when she hers Jason’s voice. “No, not really. It shouldn’t be too much trouble,” Vivian says as she glances over at the groceries She looks down at the pile of envelops on the counter and nods her head, remembering that she saw his name written on one of the return envelops, “Actually yes, there is something for you,” she says as she saunters over to him and holds out the envelop with a return address and the name Jon Rhodes written on it. “I’m guessing it’s time to pay rent.” 

[jason-kealoha]

Watching the woman go about her work with crossed arms, Jason stays leaning lazily against the wall, seeming to zone out, allowing his thoughts to wander. However, the man perks up when Vivian walks over to him and offers the envelope. “Oh, is it? Have I really been here that long already?” he replies softly, taking the thing into his hands, flipping it over to examine the words printed there. How was he supposed to pay rent? He furrows his brow, biting his lip. For all intents and purposes, he didn’t exist—a phantom with no records, no bank accounts, nothing beyond a birth certificate resting in a government office across the country to prove that Jason Kealoha had even been alive.  “Time flies, I guess,” he says at last, breaking his trance to flash Vivian a wide smile. “And I still don’t think I’ve met everyone who lives here.” 

[ingrvd]

Iggy’s actions and mood and facial expression all the remain the same over the breaths of cold and nicotine. Apathy is her strongest weapon and her biggest downfall, but fortunately and unfortunately for her, it’s ever present. She reaches down and fiddles with a loose string on her jeans, picking and pulling because and she had always wondered what it was exactly that made denim, that made her jeans, because it came off in the stringy form that it did, reminding her of cotton. These were things she couldn’t learn in school and things no one cared about in her family.

He asks another question to snap her out of her thoughts, though she was a fine balance between attentive and not, always some kind of alert because she could turn a corner and a cop could say, ‘There she is!’ She ran to practice and practiced fighting if running failed her. Twice, she had dislocated a thumb to get out of handcuffs.

"No." She’s compelled to offer him that cigarette, but instead of doing so, she takes a drag of her own. It’s not a question of morals, whether or not he deserves it, or anything of the like. (She wouldn’t be the one to judge that anyway.) But it’s something like wondering if she wanted to put forth the effort. He seemed to be. He wasn’t annoying, he wasn’t intrusive, and despite that she didn’t feel his apology was heartfelt, she didn’t feel threatened. He won’t call her another name, he says, and if he does, she can walk away. "Have you?"

[jason-kealoha]

“No, I just moved in. Same as everyone else, it seems. Guess people sort of just pass through here,” Jason replies softly, averting his gaze to the sky for a moment, leaning back against the house and tilting his head upward. He wonders when the last time he really looked at the stars was. Because there were too many lights in Manhattan to really see anything but the moon. And sometimes you didn’t even get that.

There had been a hole in the ceiling of that freezing concrete room, the one in which he had breathed his final labored breaths. He saw clouds through it that night, but no stars. Stop depressing yourself. That was maybe one thing he missed about home, though. The clear skies. But Hawaii seemed so far away by now, and Jason doubts he would even recognize the once familiar beaches these days. Not that he ever intended to return, an eternity to travel or not.

“Either way, I plan on staying a while,” he says at last, turning back to look Iggy in the face. He wouldn't be passing through this house if he could help it. But she’s probably not interested, he decides.

All the same, you’re not supposed to judge books by their covers, and maybe there was something beating under that icy exterior, he muses. It’s not his place to find it, though.

[captainmarcuszeng-blog]

The walks from her previous apartment and now from Linden to her the antique shop were never that long but the cold weather and snow covered sidewalks never made it very enjoyable. Still, despite the unpleasantness of it all, Vivian continued on with her day completely unfazed by the cold air and forgot about it the second that she stepped inside heated buildings. Vivian steps inside the old house and lets out a sigh of relief when she feels the warm air, silently grateful that someone had turned the heater on. She walks into the kitchen with two tote bags filled with a random assortment of groceries for the house and places them on the counter before she yanks her hat off, pulls out the receipt to set aside for later, and digs through the tote bag and fishes out a series of eleven empty return envelopes she had found in the mailbox outside. 

[jason-kealoha]

"Oh, hey there," Jason smiles, bringing up a hand to wave as he walks by, dressed in only his t-shirt. He had spent the entire day locked up in his room, not bothering to venture out until people started arriving home from work. Because what would the point be? If wandering the streets of New York in an aimless daze had been lonely, maybe this was even worse. Waiting around like a puppy for human interaction. But it's better than nothing, he decides. And so, he leans on the wall and cocks his head at the woman, his body language as open and friendly as usual. "Any mail for me?" he asks with a strange smirk. Wouldn't it be funny if there was? He drums his fingers across the counter-top. 

"Do you need help unpacking anything?" The question comes as a bit of an afterthought, but even if he doesn't eat any of the food in the house, he should at least make some effort to be normal about the whole thing. That way maybe no one would notice.

[ingrvd]

Iggy keeps her cool, keeps calm and takes a particularly long drag of the cigarette, but the minute the word “honey” comes out of his mouth, it’s poison dripped in privilege aimed at her because he can and because she can’t. Whatever privilege it is, given that she doesn’t know him, doesn’t matter to her. She had her tongue, too, and she had her fists and she had blatant ways of communicating that she doesn’t like pet names. But she keeps her cool, so she flicks the ash off, no malicious intent, but doing all she can not to flick it onto him. It’s not his fault that she’s angry person, so she doesn’t give him the butt end of her anger.

But his lie is still a lie and still weaving into a web. His excuses, some makes sense, but there’s too many of them. Someone who was just smoking a cigarette, even with the nerves of someone who would give two excuses, would stick to that they were just smoking a cigarette. And owls didn’t come around these parts. But still, again, she doesn’t care because it’s not her business. It’s when someone wants to involve her in their business that she gets involved.

She resigns with a breath as her head moves and tilts to look at him. “Iggy,” she tells him, a return for the name. “And I don’t like pet names,” which is a return for what made her irritated in the first place. She considers offering him the cigarette, but if he’s apparently already smoked, why bother?

[jason-kealoha]

“Sorry. Force of habit. Won’t call you one again,” Jason smiles softly, cocking his head to one side in an effort to remain polite. All the same, he’s not sure that he and this woman will ever really get along. Because at first glance, she seems purposefully abrasive. Still, her getup is interesting, he guesses. And it’s somewhat familiar in an odd sort of way.  In fact, everything about the stranger plants Jason right back in the final few years of his life. So, when he hears her name, the first thing to come to mind is Iggy Pop, and he wonders if that’s what it says on her birth certificate. Because Iggy is a funny name for a girl who doesn’t like pet names, isn’t it? May as well be Cookie or something. He bites back the smirk threatening to force its way onto his face.

“Sorry if I bothered you,” the man says at last, crossing his arms nonchalantly and making a show of his intention to stay right where he’s standing. Normally, he would be the type to avoid conflict, but he’s dead for Christ’s sake. Where would he get at being intimidated? And, in any case, he was out there first. So he leans his back against the outside wall and stares at the sky. “Lived here long?” 

[ingrvd]

Iggy has two modes when it comes to lies: let them lie because it’s too much effort to try and tell them they’re wrong, or call them out. And with this man, she could go either way. The problem with calling him out is though she’s sure he didn’t come out here for a cigarette, he’s not sure why he’s out here. In fact, she’s willing to bet he doesn’t have cigarettes in his pocket.

Unimpressed by his lie, she stares down at her own cigarette, knowing she’ll have to give him one. She flicks it, the ash barely accumulated enough at the tip to allow the need to flick it. And then she tilts her head at him. “Where’s your cigarette, then?” It’s not quizzical, but as much as the monotone in her voice lifts, it’s accusatory. Only enough for him to catch the hint that she knows he’s lying, but not enough for it to get between them. It’s his business, what he does. She doesn’t care and though she doesn’t expect the same of the roommates, she won’t be telling anyone much.

[jason-kealoha]

“Well, I finished it already, honey. So I’m going back inside now. It’s chilly tonight, isn’t it?” Jason replies nonchalantly, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. With his threadbare jacket hanging loosely from his frame, he realizes that he must look somewhat underdressed for the weather, but maybe it’ll serve to heighten the illusion that he just stepped out for a smoke. “Thought I saw an owl and tried to get a better look.  Didn’t get one. But please don’t tell the landlord I flick my butts into the grass, huh?”  If the woman’s not buying it, he doesn’t let it bother him. Because he’s not sure they’ll end up being friends anyway. Hell, if he found one of his new housemates creeping back inside in the middle of the night, he’d probably just let whatever excuse they made slide. Wouldn’t call them on it. But that thought leaves him with a bitter taste too. Because here he was creeping in the bushes while others would be out living lives that meant something. 

“My name is Jason,” the man says at last, offering an awkward little smile. Moving around the woman, he tries to get closer to the door so that he can retreat back into the house without having to spin anymore tales. All the same, he makes a conscious decision not to look suspicious. And so, he plants himself firmly on the ground and tries to appear casual. But he was a dancer, not an actor. And maybe they don’t always go hand in hand when talents are dealt out.

[ingrvd]

The front of the house was boring now. Now, the front of the house smelled like cigarette smoke at one point before opening the door and there sat an entire coffee can of cigarette butts, overfilled for the ratio of water dumped in it. It didn’t get taken care of because no one necessarily cared if one cigarette burned another on its way out. But this sight wasn’t Iggy’s favourite when enjoying a cigarette. So she takes a break from the front and her feet, padding almost silently down the halls, lead her to the back. The back where she slides the door open and steps onto a rugged, disheartened matt that might have, at some point said, “Home is where the heart is.” It makes her scoff with closed lips because she’s sure that as she reads the parts of letters, it could only have been a joke. Or maybe a homeliness put there by their elusive landlord.

She doesn’t care, she doesn’t care as she finds one of the lawn chairs, staring into the dark before the cigarette meets her lips and the lighter meets the cigarette. It takes her a drag to realise there’s another person outside, but it doesn’t faze her. She doesn’t make a move and she doesn’t say a thing to the shadow. There’s always someone everywhere.

[jason-kealoha]

In the shimmering darkness of the early morning, Jason can only see a little glint of light floating near the back of the house. A cigarette, glowing warmly there in the abyss. Man, what he would do for a cigarette. Or a pair of working lungs. It’s all incredibly pathetically poetic, the man thinks, something out of a black and white movie, but well, now he has a bit of a problem. If he should step back over the property line, what would happen? Would he simply fade back into view, reappearing like a magician? Maybe he ought to just jump out and yell surprise for Christ’s sake. He grimaces. Well. He’d have to find some other way back inside. So, with tiny steps, he creeps along in the blackness, moving silently as death and taking care not to overstep the boundary (only able to gauge where it probably lies) lest he regain physicality too quickly.

Moving hurriedly to the side of the house, where he thinks he can emerge unseen, he finally steps back into the yard, and when his solid form returns, there is no real fanfare. Not even a real awareness that it has happened. All the same, his feet make a dull, only barely audible crunching noise in the grass as he approaches the back door. And seeing Iggy there, he raises a friendly hand to wave at her, offering a smile.

“Looks like we had the same idea,” he remarks, vaguely gesturing at her cigarette as if to provide an explanation for why he is slinking about outside in the middle of the night. But he’s not sure she’ll buy it. 

[captainmarcuszeng-blog]

"Well, I’ve got a lot of time on my hands so…" Vivian’s voice trails off ending her sentence with a wave of her hands almost as if to silently say ‘that’s that’. Again, her statement is vaguely honest. She truly did have nothing but time on her hands and until a hunter strong enough to come and kill her came along and was clever enough to discover her or until she got so bored she decided to just end it all herself, she had nothing but all the time in the world. Jason’s voice brings Vivian back to earth and she raises her dark eyes to look at the man. She didn’t know about that when it came to him, but in regards to herself… she definitely had escaped that fate. She was destined to always look like she was in her thirties and beautiful, frozen in time, and moving around when things got too boring for her wasn’t all that difficult for her to do. "I suppose. So what, so I suppose you’re going to become one of those old men living life on the so-called edge and doing extreme sports to escape the mundane?" she asks.

[jason-kealoha]

“Believe me, I know all about having a lot of time on your hands, honey. Uh…work’s hard to come by, you know?” Jason offers the woman a small, awkward smile as he says it. Because he really does have eternity, and with no fear of death or disease, maybe he could confine himself to this house and discover a cure for cancer or something. But, in the end, everyone dies anyway, so what would the point be? He purses his lips and internally scolds himself for the thought. Because he would have given anything to have been well when he was alive, to have had the opportunity to actually grow old, whether alone or at someone’s side. So, laughing dejectedly at himself, the man runs a hand through his hair.

“Oh no, extreme sports aren’t really up my alley. I like to think I’m athletic and all, but I’d probably break a hip trying to…rock climb or something. I don’t know. I can surf, though. It’s in my blood,” he says a bit more brightly. “But I always sort of imagined there’d be parties and friends and sneaking into fancy art gallery openings and eating all the food. That sort of thing. They let you get away with it when you’re old and cute.” 

[jason-kealoha]

When the clock struck midnight early that morning, the house had already fallen eerily silent. No voices. No shuffling feet. Nothing but the quiet sounds of the nighttime echoing through the windowpanes. Jason lay atop his new bed, staring at the darkened ceiling with his hands crossed snugly over his chest. It's odd, he thinks. While, in life, he would have loved being able to party forever without rest, he almost misses sleep. Misses the chance to dream. Misses the peace of forgetting the world even for a few hours. He thinks he must have fallen asleep when he was dying; the cold does that. Knocks you out so you go peacefully, warmly. But that thought is depressing. And this is his second chance, afterlife revisited. So, the man groans and sits up, shaking out his limbs as if something like tension could rest in them anymore. What to do? What to do? 

He jumps up. And with silent, scurrying feet, he pulls open the door and creeps into the hallway, blinking into the dark to see if anyone is else is up and about. After wandering for twenty minutes or so through the corridors, he finds himself standing outside near the back of the house, allowing a cool breeze to touch his cheeks. It's refreshing even if it's only a fleeting, almost illusory sensation. Just enough. And now that he's out here where no one can see him, maybe he'll try something. See how far he can walk in every direction. So, scooping up a fallen twig from the ground, he sets off moving, headed for the property's border. And within a few moments, the bit of wood falls through his hand, landing in the grass with a dull thud. Jason sighs and turns around to look at the looming old building. This would be his world now. And he wonders if it'll be able to hold him. 

[captainmarcuszeng-blog]

Vivian slowly saunters over to the far end of the couch and leans over , letting her forearms rest on the of the couch while her hands idly play with a pillow as she listens to Jason speak. He’s stark contrast to Elijah. Elijah was quiet and almost appeared to be reserved while this man appeared to be the exact opposite at a cursory glance. There was something endearing about how he rambled, but she knew well enough how something one found endearing or even amusing could quickly turn into something irritating when it came to housemates. Fortunately, Vivian was quite paitent.

"I’m nothing special," Vivian says, shaking her head and making her long black hair spill over her shoulders, "Came across this place, saw that there were rooms available, I was bored and it seemed interesting. That’s all there is really," she explains with a shrug. It was incredibly vague, but it’s the truth nonetheless.

[jason-kealoha]

“Bored, and it seemed interesting, huh? Well, that’s got to be a nice way to live,” Jason replies with a small laugh. Still, the woman’s story doesn’t really sound all that different from his own, and he wonders if maybe everyone around him could be a ghost as well. All of them wandering aimlessly and brought together under one roof. But there’s really no way to tell. And it’s not like he could bring the subject up. Because then he would look insane. And so keeps his mouth shut.  “It was always one of my biggest fears growing up, you know? Finding myself old and boring and living in some suburb somewhere. I guess both of us will escape that fate then, huh?” 

[captainmarcuszeng-blog]

Vivian sees a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and looks down only to see the man named Jason holding his hand out to her. She takes her own hand out of her pocket and takes his and gives it a gentle, polite shake accompanied by a small smile. “Pleasure to meet you Jason. I’m Vivian.” she says before she lets him go. Vivian notices that he seems to be a bit tense and maybe even a touch nervous so she continues on, striking up a conversation. They were to be living with each other, might as well try to make get along and be civil. “So you’re new too? I just moved a few days ago myself. Do you mind if I ask what brings you here?” 

[jason-kealoha]

“It was just time for a change, you know? Came upon this place sort of by accident, and well…here I am, honey,” Jason flashes the woman an easier smile, gently nodding his head. That was mostly true. Having wandered out of the city in search of something, he found his way to the house. And while he was on its grounds, he had somehow become tangible. It was too much to give up, and so, he stayed. But he cannot shake the strange, lingering curiosity. Why this house? Why now? Still, chasing away questions without answers, he continues talking. “Love issues. Work issues. Decided to leave it all behind and start over, I guess. Still commute back into Manhattan sometimes, though.  Have to work, don’t we, hon?” Not that he can do that. He laughs all the same.

“But here I am rambling on. How about you? What’s your story?” He cocks his head to one side, and there does seem to be genuine curiosity in his voice. 

[elijah-vestri]

"That’s cool." The words are sincere enough, though he doesn’t know what else to say about it. He’s not familiar enough to know the difference between any kind of dance, and he feels like asking if he’s a ballerina might be taken the wrong way. At the question he can’t help but mimic his answer, because it’s true enough on his end too. "A lot of nothing." He half smirks in response, but he doesn’t have a second answer to fall back on. He doesn’t have a job, not yet anyway, and he’s not really looking. It might not be any kind of a smart idea, not with his self-control, and even if he thought he could keep himself in check, he has next to no experience to qualify him for anything. He worked at a gas station for a while. He doesn’t really remember what he did except read magazines and smoke in the bathroom.

The words make him think the guy’s either a lot younger or a lot older than he thought. Or who knows, maybe parents in Hawaii didn’t watch those kinds of movies. It’s pointless to guess, because it’s all just speculation. He shifts a little on the arm of the chair, and while he doesn’t know the answer to this one either, gets uncomfortable asking, at least it gives him an excuse to fall back on. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen it since I was a kid. You like it?”

[jason-kealoha]

“Well, in that case, here’s to a lot of nothing,” Jason smiles amiably, raising an invisible glass in his free hand as if to give a toast. But although he lets out a genuine laugh at the silly gesture, it does serve as a grim reminder that even now, with this new start in this new house, he’s trapped in something like a mockery of waking life. Existing but not feeling. And while there’s no pain, there’s no pleasure either. And that means no retreat into the things which once made him feel fulfilled. No alcohol, no dope, no sex. No nothing. Well, as far as he knew. It’s not like he had tried to indulge in any of those things since he died, but for now, he would rather not risk it. Because he’s not sure he even has working organs. So maybe he would have to learn philosophy or something, escape into more scholarly inclinations. Delight the mind when there’s no body. Well. That just sounds like the worst thing ever.

“Like it? I guess so. Would suck being trapped haunting a bunch of weird white people, though,” Jason remarks wryly and shrugs his shoulders. “But it’s a good movie, I think. First time I’ve seen it in a few years to be honest. And, really, who am I to talk? I’m half-white myself.” He’s not sure why he gives the disclaimer, but he does. His mother had been from New Jersey, but travel wasn’t as easy back in those days. Maybe if he had made it out of New York alive, he could have gone with everyone for an actual vacation. That could have been nice. 

[elijah-vestri]

He nods his head at the words, silent agreement because right now it’s enough trouble just trying to be okay in this house. It’s nothing he says out loud, but there’s a lot more that he keeps to himself than he vocalizes. It occurs to him briefly that he talks in past tense a lot, and it makes him glance at him again because he’s not his type of dead, but he knows better than most that a man didn’t have to actually be dead to already feel that way. Either way, it’s still skimming the surface of deeply personal so he shies away from it and lets talk of Hawaii die. He’s not going anywhere that sunny anyway. “So what do you do now?”

At the question he just shakes his head, watching the screen for a moment when the man draws attention back to it. There’s nostalgia here, and almost regret, because it’s a piece of his childhood and that’s not entirely tainted. Parts of it yeah, but he had his moments and he had his brother and it wasn’t all bad. It makes him miss him more than it should, because he hasn’t seen him in years and the man’s probably better off without. It just doesn’t change that intense urge he suddenly has to see him, to just know that he’s moved on with his life and he’s okay. He swallows the feeling down, giving a shake of his head and doing his best to flash the man a smile. “No. That’s alright. I used to like this movie.”

[jason-kealoha]

“Now? Well, at the moment, it’s kind of a whole lot of nothing to be honest,” Jason says with a dejected sort of sigh, cocking his head to one side. He gives a small chuckle before averting his eyes to the floor. “Nothing major, I mean. I’m a dancer by trade, if you can call it that, so…work is few and far between sometimes. I should have saved more, but I figure I’ve got enough to get by. And I…uh, I do temp work to pay the bills.” Most of what he says rings with half-truths. And he’s not sure when the excuses and the lies will finally catch up with him. But in any case, saving was not something he did in life. So it’s not like a rich man has to pretend to be a poor man to avoid people asking questions. “What do you do?”

“Used to? Don’t like it anymore?” Jason flashes the man a smirk. But furrowing his brow, he thinks maybe he gets what Elijah means. However he physically looks, Jason ought to be a man in his fifties. Things he associates with his adult life are things which his new housemate would perhaps associate with his childhood. It’s a funny thought because Jason doesn’t really feel all that old. And he's pretty sure Elijah is at least physically his elder. “I didn’t see it until I was grown-up.” 

[elijah-vestri]

"I believe it." He gives an answering shrug of his own, because he’d lived in New York all his life and never been. And it didn’t seem to him that most people came to New York City to go to New Jersey, but he didn’t really know how long was a while and he didn’t ask. He might not have to, but he’s almost grateful that the man’s talkative. It saves him the trouble of it, because half the time he doesn’t know what to say, or the answers aren’t any kind of acceptable.

He frowns at the next words, glancing at him briefly before turning his attention back to the television. He’s not sure what to say to that, because ‘I know the feeling’ is both too personal and too glib, and maybe he doesn’t. He doesn’t know the circumstances and he’s not going to ask when he just met the guy, but he’s not going to tell him he’s sure he’s wrong, because he’s not. Maybe he’s right. Maybe his family doesn’t care. He doesn’t think his own does, and if anyone tried to convince him otherwise he wouldn’t want to hear it. “That’s too bad. I hear the beaches are nice.”

[jason-kealoha]

“They were nice as far as I remember,” Jason replies quickly as if to change the subject. He regrets saying anything about his family in the first place, and he’ll make damn sure that he doesn’t again. All the same, older sensibilities still cling persistently to him. Because in his New York, everyone he met on the street was his new best friend, and he didn’t just pass them by. He stopped, and he knew them. But that lasted only about a year, and now, he thinks that maybe he had too many acquaintances and not enough friends. That was undeniable. And acquaintances were shit. They got you sick, and if you weren’t careful, they got you killed.

“But you know, the tourist trade’s been bustling for the past fifty years. Bet it wouldn't be too hard to hop on a plane and see them for yourself if” He shrugs. “But then again, I suppose it wouldn't have been hard for me to get to the Jersey Shore either, would it? Both would cost more than they're worth, I think.” Jason gives a little sigh, fiddling with the television remote for a moment.  “Are you sure you don’t want to change the station?” 

[captainmarcuszeng-blog]

Vivian takes a step back at the man’s reaction. She hadn’t thought that she was that quiet in her approach, but apparently she was wrong. She hopes that step back some would ease the tension in the air. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Vivian apologizes politely as she takes a cautionary step back. This whole pretending to be human was definitely going to take some getting used to. Maybe she should wear shoes around the house, at least the light clacking of her heels would signal her approach and warn others that she was there instead of having her silently and suddenly appear behind them without warning like a ghost. She offers the man a small and apologetic smile. “Did you just move in here?” asks Vivian in a feeble  attempt to make conversation, as her eyes wander over to the curiously strange program on the television.

[jason-kealoha]

“It’s alright, honey. New surroundings got me on high alert, I guess,” Jason simpers bashfully, bringing up a hand to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. For a moment, he studies the woman, trying to think of something with which to recover from the uncomfortable first encounter. However, nothing immediately comes to mind, and so, he’s left there smiling like an idiot. And when he finally speaks, the words are somewhat rushed. “Yeah, brand new to the house. Seems like quite a few of us are. But anyway, I’m Jason. And you are?”

Reaching up a hand, the man offers to shake, a new gesture to which he is quickly becoming used. He doesn’t think it’s something he did way back when he was alive. But being able to feel the weight of another human being’s hand on his own hand—it’s a simple thing that’s not missed until it’s lost. 

[elenafontainex]

"Nothing wrong with that!" She insists with a casual bit of a smile, as she thinks about it. Drama queens are fun, she thinks. Much better than someone who goes around trying to take the fun and mystery out of everything that they can, simply because they can. Maybe it’s better to be too much than to little. But she can’t be sure. "How bad can they be? With all these new people, you’d think they would have made an appearance to put an end to it." Elena suggests, playing along with this theory. The idea of being a ghost sounds awfully lonely, so if this house is indeed haunted, maybe the spirits appreciate the new company. All she knows is that she hasn’t been startled by any doors slamming shut or objects thrown across the room.

The werewolf isn’t surprised when Jason says that he’s never been to Rome, or to Georgia. It might be one of the bigger cities there, but it’s not exactly a place that one goes rushing out to go visit. Not like the places he mentions, anyway. New York amazed her everyday, but Hawaii? She’d only seen pictures - and that place looked incredible. She’d go there if she could, but there isn’t exactly a bridge she can drive on over. “Really? I’d love to visit a place like Honolulu. Where would you rather be? Here or there.” She asks, not exactly making a smooth transition from where one thought ended and another one began.

[jason-kealoha]

“That’s true enough. So I guess they like new people coming in after all. Well…That’s if they even exist now, honey,” Jason remarks, smirking with a light shrug of his shoulders. “It has to be pretty lonely living in a place like this. On your own, I mean.”  The man bites his lip, his good humor disappearing as he stares dreamily into the distance behind Elena. All the same, the smile returns a moment later. But his own words have managed to somehow hit him too close to home. The afterlife was a solitary existence, at least in his case. He imagines it’s not that way for everyone—because the streets were not littered with the ghosts of the dead. So maybe there was indeed somewhere he could move onto. Or maybe this was punishment, his personal hell for being a bit too friendly in life. Now he got to be alone. All the same, this house could be his new start, he thinks. A second chance at a life ended too soon.

“Here or there? Well, I’ve lived here longer. And there’s not very much in Hawaii. Except for tourists, sweetheart,” Jason laughs and shakes his head. “But doesn’t everyone want to be in New York? What if I asked you where you would rather be? Rome, Georgia or here?” He smiles genuinely at the remark, but it’s more to disguise the discomfort with which he has to talk about his own home. Because he hadn’t seen it in thirty years, and he doesn’t think he would recognize the streets and the people he had once held so near to him.

[elijah-vestri]

There’s some envy after he says it, though he can’t say why. He can picture it though, and even if his mind’s eye isn’t anything close to accurate, he likes the sound of it better. Beaches and surfing and being able to say the word family without a latent bitterness. He’s better with the last part now than he was before he died, but sometimes he still wonders if they’re even curious where he went. He doubts his parents did. Maybe his brother. “Not unless you want to try the Jersey shore. But I don’t think it’s really the same.”

He flashes him half a smile before looking back at the television, but this at least is easier for him. Having the focus off him, because he never has any good answers. Just half-lies and ignorance on his part. He doesn’t know which is worse, but he thinks the ignorance, and if it takes twenty-five years for him to stop being so hungry he wonders how long it’ll take him to stop being so numb. “You think you’d go back?”

[jason-kealoha]

"I wouldn't know. I've never been to the Jersey Shore, believe it or not," Jason replies with a little shrug. It wouldn't have been terribly difficult to try to get there, but his time in New York had mostly been spent experiencing the city. And then at the end of it, he was too sick to actually go much of anywhere. For a moment, his thoughts flicker back to his final weeks, and he wonders if he really knew he was knocking at death's door. Well, of course he did. It had terrified him. But then, when it finally happened, he ran into the night without looking back. And well, maybe his corpse was found and buried in some unmarked grave. Or maybe it sat there and rotted. Or maybe cats ate it. He has no idea, and the grim thoughts only serve to upset him.

"Go back? Well, no, I don't think so. There's not very much left for me there, to be honest. I doubt my family even cares...." Jason trails off before he allows himself to get too personal. Because that would be weird, and so, he simply gives an awkward smirk, clearing his throat and returning to the television.

[elijah-vestri]

"I don’t know." He frowns after he says it, because it’s his answer too often. He doesn’t know half the things about himself that maybe he should by now, and this isn’t even about him. For the most part it’s just light banter and he should at least be able to summon something for that. "Crowd? Does crowd work?" But he does know what he means, and he shuts his mouth almost awkwardly, because it’s the kind of thing that shouldn’t involve that much thought or effort.

The question that comes back at him is one he knows the answer to though, and there’s an odd sort of relief at that. It doesn’t require him to have opinion or preference. “Staten Island.” He stops there, though he wonders distantly if he’s supposed to go through his list too. It’s no extensive by any means. Two places there, two places in Queens, and here he is, thirty-two and already dead. He’s never seen Hawaii and now he doubts he ever will, because what’s a vampire going to do there except burn to death quickly and painfully? But it’s more interesting than the city he died in so that’s what he focuses on. “You ever miss Hawaii?”

[jason-kealoha]

"Crowd works. We can go with crowd. Very New York thing too," Jason replies with a light shrug of his shoulders. The sudden awkwardness in the other man's response does not escape him, and he thinks it's funny that the more confident he gets speaking, the more tongue-tied Elijah seems to get. So maybe that's his fault. And fearing that he may be coming on too strongly with his new acquaintance, Jason settles back into the sofa in an effort to ground himself.  Although his eyes remain focused on the television, he does listen intently to what his housemate has to say

"Do I ever miss Hawaii? Well, sometimes, I guess. I haven't been back in a very long time, so it's probably not how I remember it," Jason replies softly, scratching a hand through his hair. Not that he can feel anything resembling an itch. All the same, his words ring with an uncomfortable truth. Home had to be different now. Maybe he wouldn't recognize it, and maybe everyone he knew was dead too. Or aged beyond recognition. It's strange knowing he would be in his fifties were he still alive. "But my family was...uh, mostly natives. So I had, you know, Hula and surfing and all that. Can't get it here."