She finished her thrust, hands still locked into her scissors, as the now-extremely-flushed girl snapped her head around to look at the intruder. Who was it!? Who the hell had heard the two of them all the way out in the middle of nowhere in this beat-to-shit house!? And who the hell was interrupting something so obviously important??
A boy? Blonde hair, glasses, looked a little bit like a prick, and the way he was talking wasn’t much better - but then again, he wasn’t running away, or threatening to call the cops. He only had a look of mild annoyance upon his face.
His very, very pale face.
His slightly transparent face.
“Oh! I get it!! I get it!!! Jeez! Gehheeehehee - I know what’s happening here! But, look, I’m in the middle of something really special and very important okay?”
Syo wrenched the scissors inside a little further, prompting another, slightly weaker-than-before cry from the girl.
“So I’d appreciate it if you could respect our privacy and at least wait until after we finish to so rudely interrupt, okay?? Maybe you can haunt me a little later! Come back in, like, half an hour, okay? Then you can throw a dinner plate on the ground and I promise I’ll pretend to be scared!”
There was a strange, coppery scent in the air he couldn’t quite place. Coins, maybe? But it didn’t exactly explain how it was so prevalent an odor. Perhaps it was...no, health class had taught him that smell was really only noticeable by the owner of the...certain lower body part. So where exactly was it coming from?
(The girl is staring at him.) He turns to look at the girl who appeared to be on the losing side of squabble. She appeared timid, as she had yet to say a word (She was trying to, perhaps to beg for him to help her, but with her punctured lung all she could manage was coughing and choking sobs.) and as he looked closely he could see she was slightly shaking. (Trembling in fear, seeing what she’ll become, that her wounds will stay with her in the next life-) Just what exactly had the other been saying to her?
(Did he have wounds? Who knows? He didn’t. He couldn’t be seen in mirrors.)
He gives the girl with braids a rather skeptical look, crossing his arms and tapping his foot on the floor. “Special? You’re just arguing. I hardly see how that constitutes a special occasion. And if you wanted it to be private, perhaps you should have thought of getting a room instead of a public hallway.“
...Wait a moment, “Haunt”? Where had that come from? And how was it even relevant? He seems perplexed for a moment, brows furrowed as he tries to place the context. (Floorboards behind him start to creak, not that he notices.) ...He must have misheard her. That would make the most sense.
“You seem to be misunderstanding my purpose here. I don’t want anymore noise, and breaking a plate would be doing the exact opposite. It wouldn’t kill the both of you to use your inside voices.”
