The papers were at it again, specifically the New Frontiersman. Theyâd never shut up in the first place, only gotten quieter, but now they might as well have been kicking in Adrianâs penthouse door with how much they were pestering him. The Frontiersman had never liked him - a key factor in Rorschachâs decision to send his journal to them, Adrian figured - but after the journalâs publication theyâd been hounding him day and night.
When they initially asked about Manhattan, he refused to give them anything other than generic condolences for the victims, which briefly shut them up. Then, they came back with a vengeance and had been calling his office nonstop and giving his poor secretary an earful of hate every time. After weeks and weeks, Adrian had finally agreed to one -Â one - interview with a Frontiersman reporter, but fully planned on leaving when things turned hostile (and of course they would turn hostile; this was the New Frontiersman, after all). His secretary wished him luck as he walked past her into his office to prepare. The room was unusually cold, and he made a mental note to have the heating system inspected and repaired. Adrian was not a superstitious man. He didnât believe in luck or magic, ghouls or demons, in any sort of creature he couldnât create in a lab. There was no proof in these things; therefore he saw no point in believing they were real. Besides, it was a waste of time. Veidt Enterprises, the press, his own personal affairs - how could he manage everything if he was constantly worried about pissing off a ghost? No, the dead were dead, and theyâd stay that way.
Barbara had never been to Manhattan and personally found it much too congested. There were plenty of reasons (and Barbara was sure of it) that Charles had wanted to move to the countryside, and Barbara would probably understand them all; there were plenty of reasons that Delia wanted to move back to New York, and Barbara probably wouldnât understand any of them; and Lydia didnât really seem to care for the most part. In fact, there had been many times in which the dark girl seemed to complain or become moody when she realized that she was now living in the terribly boring town of Winter River. Some of her gloominess had subsided when the Maitlands decided to poke their heads into her small world, however.
Anyway, the ghost had found herself aimlessly wandering the streets, thankingâwell, particularly no person, given that there didnât really seem to be anyone to thankâthat no one could see her, and she was able to pass through others quite easily. Along her walkâor float, I should sayâa rather large building had caught her eye, and she wasted no time in floating right up and into one of the open windows, although she really couldâve floated into any old place on the building.
As she began to situate herself, brown hues caught the side of a slightly irritated, blond man as he strode past what seemed to be his secretary and into his office ⊠At least thatâs what everything seemed to be, in Barbaraâs eyes. Curious, she decided to follow this man into his âofficeâ. Getting past the secretary wouldnât be so hard, right? Well, thankfully for Barbara, the woman seemed as if she couldnât see her, or paid no attention to her; but on the flip side, Barbara wasnât paying much attention to her, either, which caused the ghost to phase right through her instead of around. Peeking over her shoulder, the housewife saw the woman shiver and spin around before the ghost ushered herself into the office by scrambling through the door. When she pushed her back against said door, it stood in place; although how Barbara could float through a door and then stand against it was something that was beyond her level of comprehension and explaining.
Lifting her head, she caught sight of that man again. Seeing how no one had noticed her during her small trip through the city and then through a building, the ghost assumed that he would not see her, either, but maybeâjust maybeâhe was staring at a floral-clad, middle-aged woman who had just went through his door without opening it and was now leaning against it, staring back at him like a deer in the headlights.
This was probably one of the more awkward run-ins that Barbara had ever had with other people.
Standing up, Barbara glanced about the room and down towards her pink slippers before raising her hand in greeting, wiggling her fingers. âUh, hello. Iâm terribly sorry for this unusual intrusion.â
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