2020-03-23 - it's 3 am and nothing's fine ;)

It's late. Deep into the night, so deep it's almost daytime-- 3 AM, one of the most common slots of time dedicated as the Witching Hour. And in the quiet, a girl in black jeans, soft black boots, and an oversized hoodie of mottled black and grey with slashes of red makes their way quietly through the Hecker House in the depths of the night. A knit cap striped grey and light purple is tugged low, and the braid on her shoulder has a few smooth, shiny dark beads against the rich purple. Hands in her pockets, she skirts around the objects around her, maintaining her expressionless look past what many might consider cursed objects-- until she reaches, somehow, the bedroom. She listens for only a moment, before she slips inside and quietly, curiously, begins to look around the bedroom.

And there are, indeed, many objects in the Hecker house- piles upon piles of them, mounds of junk and trash and the occasional treasure, haphazardly strewn about, tended to mainly by the tribe of roaches that James has a tentative truce with... for now. It's treacherous to navigate, but Gina is a treacherous navigator and hopefully avoids knocking anything over. Anyone with a certain sensitivity to Glimmer and the Mental aspect of such abilities can likely feel the dark, suffocating miasma of negativity that blankets the whole house, emanating from those piles of cursed or otherwise psychically stained objects around them.

Except for the bedroom. James hasn't locked the door to the bedroom since, up until now, nothing from inside the rest of the house has figured out how to open doors. The bedroom itself is a stark contrast to the clutter and chaos of the rest of the house- it's almost entirely bare, the walls, floor, ceiling all bare and unmarked. No real furniture to speak of, either, just an empty room that still somehow feels like an oasis compared to the psychic filth outside. The only things present within are a small futon placed on the floor, a plastic milk crate filled with a small selection of necessities and assorted toiletries, and, curled up on his side in an almost fetal position beneath a thin blanket, James, sleeping fitfully. He's wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts and not much else under that blanket. After all, he wasn't exactly expecting company.

Gina steps, carefully and slowly, around the little room, one hand extended to almost-- but not quite-- touch the edges of the wall, dragging it slightly behind her as she considers the space. She stops by the milk crate to check the items, pausing a moment to lean down slightly and stare at the fitfully sleeping James for a long moment... and grinning. It's the sort of grin James probably doesn't see the full version of very often. A sort of gleeful, sly grin of amusement and impish intentions, that disappears by the time she's straightened back up. She slips one arm free of the small backpack she's got on, enough that it can pivot on the remaining shoulder and she can tug it forward to grab... a stuffed bear. Brown, old, with a ragged felt ribbon around its neck and a the fur rubbed and worn in places. It droops with slightly too-little stuffing, and the eyes... well, they have oddly realistic googly eyes instead of the normal all black or button eyes. It nearly doubles over as she sets it down right next to James's head, as if it too was leaning forward to look him in the eye.

That done, she starts moving towards the door, softly humming ever so quietly to herself, some sort of childhood tune.

James grumbles quietly in his sleep, muttering "... mrf... no... too many legs... lasagna... anglerfish..." Whatever nonsense he's dreaming about, it causes him to twitch and squirm on his futon. It's a good thing he didn't see that smile on Gina's face- he's got enough nightmares already, thankyouverymuch. He doesn't wake up, not quite yet, his form relaxing a bit as the nightmare fades, and his breathing returns to normal.

And then there's the 'da-bing!' of his celphone pinging with some notification or other from inside the milk crate, and James groans slightly. The phone pings again, and James squirms under his thin blanket, and cracks open an eye grumpily.

And sees the teddy bear and those oddly realistic eyes staring right back at him from a couple of inches away.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!", he screams, as he jumps up from the futon like a startled cat, couple of feet into the air before scrambling and skittering away to the far corner of the room, panting, still too startled and groggy to notice Gina's dark form in the late night gloom of the dark bedroom.

Gina's smirk is still in place when she starts walking out of the room, listening to those grumbles - maybe to continue to explore the odd Hecker house, maybe to get coffee, maybe to LEAVE before the POLICE arrive. But then there's the notifications and the sudden scream, and she pauses, hand hovering near the doorframe, and considers for a half second as she looks over her shoulder... then seems to come to a decision and quietly turns to face the room, looking at James, putting her hands into her pockets. She's probably half in shadow in the darkened room, too.

"Whoops. Not a bear fan?" Comes her voice -- that Gina tone is definitely there, the sly one, hard to decipher, sarcastic or teasing? WHO KNOWS. "It's so cute though."

"AAAAAAAAAaaaaa... aaa?", James is still screaming, pointing at the bear from his corner, though the sound fades as he hears that voice. Oddly familiar, deeply sinister (as far as he's concerned). He blinks. "... Gina?", he asks, squinting at her vague outline in the gloom. He swallows, once, and then pinches himself, hard.

It hurts.

"... the fuck?", he mutters again, and presses himself a little more into the corner, frightened glare shifting between the bear and the witch come to collect his organs for some dark ritual, surely. "it's not cute it's terrifying especially when you're not expecting it I mean what did you do to its eyes and also WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY BEDROOM?!"

Gina's lips curve into a smile as she tilts her head, still looking at James, "Listening to you scream." She responds mildly, before one hand pulls free of her pocket and rests on her heart. "Thought it was neighborly to come check on you." Technically true statements, strung up to tell an alternative, no-less-creepy version of the truth. "I even brought a housewarming gift."

Strolling, she begins walking back into the room -- towards the bear, not towards James, way over there now, and reaches to pick up the bear by the ear, then with both hands under each fuzzy arm, as if it was a small child-- lifting it over her head so she can look into the eyes of the flopping head. "Didn't think you'd be so prejudiced about appearances."

She tsks, three times clicking her tongue as she shakes her head and lowers the bear. "Considering all the screaming, at least this guy is peaceful."

And, in truth, the teddy bear IS peaceful. Clinging to it are the faintest hints of a nostalgic childhood, tears and bedtimes and tea parties and old games. Nary one twinge of evil... but those eyes are still a little...

"... you... I... what.", James murmurs, watching her move cautiously, staying stock still himself, as if making one wrong move might trigger the panther in his room to suddenly attack. "It's... the middle of the goddamn night. In my bedroom. And you're dropping off weird teddy bears right next to my face." He tilts his head. "You couldn't, y'know, have knocked? At, like, maybe an earlier time? So I could have a chance to sneak out the window and run?"

"I was busy." Gina says, in that mild tone of voice that makes it sound like James is the unreasonable one here. "And I wouldn't want to interrupt your sleep." A sharp slice of a smile, as she fiddles with the bowtie on the bear. "It'd be wrong to interrupt your sleep for a little visit, or run you out of your own house. That'd just be rude." She's so /reasonable/ James. "Besides, it's not like I could leave the bear outside in that mess. You'd never find it then." She pauses, and looks back towards James... thoughtfully. And teeth appear again in the dark, "Unless you like the idea of little surprises scattered around outside to stumble across. Weeks and weeks and months from now, just waiting out there."

James's eyes are wide as she 'explains'. "First of all: what.", he says, lifting a finger and sitting up a little straighter, then looking down and realizing he's just in his boxer shorts. His blush can be seen even in the dark. "Second of all: how is showing up in my bedroom at- what time even is it? Nevermind. How is that not rude? And also, I'm pretty sure, illegal." He pauses. "I hope it's illegal. I don't know, this town is weird. Maybe it's not illegal here. Which just goes to show." He shakes his head, and narrows his eyes at her, still mostly obscured in the dark bedroom. "I used to like surprises, you know. And then I moved here." The implication in her words then finally hits him. "... my god. You... actually found a way to make me even more afraid of the things outside that door. I'm... honestly kind of impressed."

"If it wasn't for the screaming, you wouldn't have even known I was here." Gina says, smiling as she takes a step or two towards James, holding out a hand towards him and wiggling her fingers. Her grin is still there, secrets tucked away behind those teeth, as she offers him a hand up. Take her hand, James. Nothing bad can happen!

The legality is entirely ignored, because-- well, proving she was here would be pretty hard, wouldn't it? She certainly doesn't look bothered by it. "I never liked surprises. Eventually you move past hating them and just dealing with shit when it comes up." A smirk, and she leans forward a bit towards James, "And don't worry, Hucker. I'd be hurt if you didn't see my gifts first thing. Guess I'm just a little vain."

James pulls back instinctively as she takes those steps towards him, menaces him with those outstretched talons, bares her fangs. "Have you met me? There's always screaming.", he mutters, more to himself than to her. He looks at her hand cautiously, eyes flickering between it and her face a few times. ".. it's Hecker.", he protests half-heartedly, and reaches up to take the offered hand, more because he's afraid she'll take offense if he does and disembowel him, than anything else. Tho he does blink. "Wait. Gift*s*? Plural?"

Gina just offers a pull to help James in his boxers get up off the ground-- but she doesn't let go of his hand when he's up. Nope. Instead, she holds out the teddy bear towards him, shoving it close to his chest. "Yeah, you're such a wimp." She says, smirk in place. "And you always doubt my love. I'm so brokenhearted." She doesn't sound in the LEAST bit brokenhearted. "But don't worry. This time it was because this needed a place." Her eyes slide towards the bear, then she steps back, letting go of it -- if James doesn't have a hold of it, it'll fall on the ground, but she's just turning and walking away. "You got coffee? Tea?" She calls, even as she's already moving to the door. Perhaps to find James's kitchen.

James tries to pull his hand back, lightly, once he's up, still looking embarrassed about his general state of undress, but his eyes widen as she doesn't release his hand and instead shoves the bear at him, which he instinctively reaches up to grab- so it doesn't hit the floor when she lets go. "... I want to argue with you about being a wimp, but I guess even the Devil tells the truth at times.", he mutters, then narrows his eyes up at her. "... I'm not so much denying your love as I am just faintly terrified that you're not just fucking with me when you say that.", he says, as she turns to walk away, but when she mentions getting coffee or tea, he pales. "Nope. Don't have anything to eat or drink around here. The kitchen is a no-man's land."

"In some mythologies the Devil only tells the truth, because nothing's worse than being stripped of your illusions." Gina casually remarks as she turns. And is that a small chuckle as he talks about his true fears? Either way his parting words have her pausing just on the threshold of the bedroom, looking back over her shoulder with both brows raised. "Really?" She doesn't even sound skeptical. More... intrigued at what this 'no man's land' is. And so she steps over the threshhold into hoarder's den that radiates ill will and bad intentions, looking not that bothered by it-- but why would she? After all, very few people know where Gina's powers lie. Maybe she can't hear it? Maybe she can't hear most of it.

"No seriously you don't want to go into the kitchen without protection. I'm pretty sure that's where the Roach King holds court.", James calls after her, but as she starts heading back out into the hell house proper, he grumbles under his breath. Gina may be an unholy apparition sent to torture him at- he sees his cellphone blinking in the milk crate, checks the time -3 in the goddamn morning, but he'd feel guilty if the kitchen ate her. He scrambles to find his pants, unwilling to head out there without at least an extra layer of clothing between himself and the horrorpiles, but he calls out, "I haven't even opened the fridge once yet since I got into town, pretty sure that triggers the apocalypse!"

Gina, thumbs hooked into her pockets, isn't in much of a rush. She strolls through the rooms, glancing through doorways to see if she can find the kitchen. No rush-- but she does navigate through the piles with a casual avoidance of actually putting hands on or touching most of it. On purpose? Because it's full of gross things? Either way, she still chats in that casual, almost lazily bored manner of hers as she goes, voice lifting juuust enough to be audible but still perhaps hard to hear. BECAUSE WHY MAKE IT EASY. "If it was a Roach King, this house wouldn't be standing. They're devourers. I'm surprised you haven't had more problems like this." Oh, is that the kitchen over there? Time to see!

James stumbles out of the bedroom, jeans on, hoodie half-pulled on, looking around in the pre-dawn gloom until he spots movement that he assumes is Gina, due to the general level of creepyness emanating from that direction. "I don't want to know how you know that.", he calls back, and then starts picking his careful way through the piles- teetering a few times, but somehow managing to keep from tumbling into one of the nightmare heaps. "SERIOUSLY DON'T OPEN THE FRIDGE WE'LL HAVE TO EVACUATE!", he yells after her as she enters the kitchen- which is, in fact, a horror zone. There isn't that much of a smell, thankfully, but piles of empty cereal boxes, broken kitchenware and appliances, and desiccated plants in cracked pots festoon the place. Occasionally, a roach will skitter between one pile of crap and another. At the far end sits the fridge, a plain-looking appliance with brown streaks that could be tomato sauce or could be blood along the front of it.

Gina walks right to the center of the disaster zone, slowly turning in place to take it aaaall in. One corner of her lips quirks up and she lets out a small 'heh,' before her eyes slide back towards James, then back to the fridge. One can almost see her contemplating it. "I lied, obviously." She responds, "Did get chased by a wave of roaches once. Had a weird little dent in my calf for years after. Filled in and evened out eventually, though." She comments, before she turns once more to look at James, and smirks, before pointing to the fridge, "Don't you think it's better to get it over with first?"

"... I wasn't aware you could be harmed by mortal means.", James grumbles as he finally makes his way to the kitchen doorway, though he doesn't step inside. He looks around and visibly shudders, then focuses on Gina as she points to the fridge, and he takes a step back. "No, I really, really don't. Lilith's calling in some specialists with like hazmat suits to come in." He pauses. "I do not have a hazmat suit. And I would hate to have to explain to people that you were eaten by whatever's in there."

"Lil' Goth Girl's calling in specialists instead of just setting it on fire? Wonder if she's restraining herself." Gina sounds like the words are mostly to herself, even as she moves towards the fridge. Each creaking, slightly sticky footstep firm. "It's cute how you put me on a pedestal though. Makes my heart skitter-skatter." Surely she meant pitter-patter.

Or she didn't, just to weird James out.

A hand reaches out to ALMOST touch the door of the fridge--- before it retreats again, falling to her side as she sighs, "Well, I guess since you don't want me eaten, it's whatever. Do you seriously not have anything to drink in this house?" It's more a casual question, as Gina surreptitiously rubs her fingers against the demin of her jeans before she slides and naturally overs her fingers over the cupboards, almost touching, and startnig to wak back to James.

James pauses as he considers the mental image of Gina's heart but with spiderlegs, skittering about inside her. His left eye twitches. "Well I do want to sell this place when we finally clean it out, so, fire's out. Also I'd really prefer it if people kept their weirdness in check while in here. It's bad enough that I can't even go out for a drink without someone lighting up like the fourth of July for no good reason.", he grumbles, because when it comes to casual Glimmer usage, he is a Cranky Old Man.

James winces as she reaches for the fridge, then lets out a relieved sigh as she pulls back. "I really, really don't. Besides I wouldn't trust anything left in here longer than overnight to drink would still be safe." He stifles a yawn, just so he doesn't have to lose eye contact with her as she moves towards him. He knows the moment he looks away is when she'll teleport directly behind him, that's how this stuff works. "But I hear there's some lovely 24-hour diners out there that provide coffee. Y'know. Out there."

Gina nose wrinkles - briefly - as if she caught a whiff of something terrible, when James mentions the Glimmer Habits of the Locals, but she gets her face back under control quick enough James might not've even seen. Or just assume she's caught a whiff of something dead in the cupboards. If he did catch it-- well, Gina's professed to be retired, after all. "The longer you stay here, the more delicious you are, you know." Gina's tone is-- light, bored almost, but sly, as if she's trying to correct that boredom as her eyes slant towards James again. "It's like a marinade of pain. A nice little brine of fucked up shit waiting for a piece of meat to stick around that it can prepare for nice, hungry--" She trails off, looks away, pausing in her slow stroll to peek at one of the dessicated potted plants. "But it's also not a bad crash course for getting re-acquainted with the Noise. Plus, seeing you panic and porcupine your squishy little self through's entertaining as fuck."

"I'm so glad my suffering amuses you.", James deadpans as he cautiously watches Gina stalk through the darkened kitchen, then he sighs and shakes his head. "Besides. Fucked up as it is, it's my place." A pause. "At least until I sell it." He gives a little shrug. "Besides. Where else am I going to go? It's not like I can ever leave this godforsaken town again. It's the only place where my crazy works."

Gina pauses, and looks towards James for a long moment, soundlessly, before she shrugs. "You're not the quietest I've ever heard. They might work outside of town. Mine worked before I ever heard of Gray Harbor." But then again, Gina is one of the local lighthouses, a rumble in the bones instead of a shudder, or however it is one perceives the Glimmer. "Not as well. Not as strong. But they can work."

James shakes his head, shuddering. "It's not about... that stuff.", he mutters. "I mean, literally. My crazy." He slumps a bit, leaning on the doorframe. "Look I spent the last decade and a half hopping from psychologist to psychiatrist to therapist. I've been prescribed every pill, every powder. I've tried self-medicating, psychedelics, meditation. All my time away from here? I forgot about this place, about the weirdness. I thought I was just having delusions. False memories. I've been diagnosed with every condition because no matter what I tried I still had all these weird half-memories and broken dreams and I'd see things out of the corner of my eye and it couldn't be real I was just nuts and I was going to be nuts forever and then I came back and it all came flooding back like oh shit it was all real and if I ever leave I'm gonna start forgetting again but now I have all these new memories and I can't go through that shit again I'm going to end up committed in a padded room." He shudders. "This is it. This fucking marinade of pain? It's my new Tuesday."

You know that controlled air Gina has? That unflappable nature of hers? As James goes on, that... doesn't stay. At the start, when he talks about pills and powder and techniques, she looks knowing and unsurprised. It's common enough, really.

But then he talks about his time away, and she raises both brows, vaguely surprised-- and then the more he talks, the more her expression goes from surprised, to skeptical, to irritated, and by the time he's done her brow is furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line, her arms crossed over her chest. "Seriously?" She says at the end, and it's not keyed high, like some might expect from female rage. No, she spits the word, tinged with disbelief and followed by a snort. "I swear, you're such a fucking drama queen about this shit, Hecker."

Wait, did she just get his name right?

"I did that shit /yearly/ every damn year since I was eight. 'OoOooo,'" Look, scared jazz hands as Gina rolls her eyes miming terror, 'Oh no, nightmares and weird shit happening all around me, I can't trust the world.' Another snort of derision, as she moves towards the door - to where James is, even - and go past him and out of the kitchen. "You got over ten fucking years of solid memories, even if they're fucked up ones, and you're /bitching/ about it? Ugh." Yeah, Gina's heading right out of this room, back to James's bedroom, unless the redhead thinks he can stop a Gina with /feelings/.

James is pretty sure he couldn't stop Gina with a tank, much less feelings. He just listens as she berates him, looking faintly sad. "... yeah, well. Sorry I'm not as strong as you.", he murmurs, tilting his head as she heads towards his spartan little bedroom again for some reason. "You, uh... you know this isn't a fucking competition, right? I'm not saying I've got it the worst out of anyone- I know there's folks who're more fucked up than me. But that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to feel shitty about my own problems. I usually try not to foist them on other folks, but, y'know, you kinda invaded my home at three in the morning so I figure you're fair game for the James Hecker bitch-a-thon." He sighs, and starts trailing after her after a few moments, not even questioning anymore why she's insisting on heading to his bedroom instead of just letting herself out and flouncing off in a huff like a normal home invader. "Hell, I dunno. Maybe if I'd done it yearly too I'd be more used to it. But I'm not. All this shit.. I'm not built for it. I don't know how to deal with it. " He frowns. "Sorry if my inability to process this stuff with your level of whatever-the-fuck-it-is you do is disappointing, but I never claimed to be anything but that."

Another little snort from Gina while she goes to the bedroom. "Trauma's a cheap fucking thing to compete over in this town. Everybody's got a story." She doesn't look back when she says it-- and perhaps doesn't quite remember exactly which one was his bedroom, slowing near doorways to remember the right one - but not stopping. "What pisses me off is-- nah, you know what? No."

Once in James's bedroom, Gina crouches down to pick up the bear, brushing any dust - real or imaginary - off it with motions that are slightly too vigorous.

"It's whatever, Huckster. My landmine, not your problem, just forget it." With each word and action, Gina's composure begins to build up again, the-- whatever that outburst was-- shuttered off, each word and movement like another door locking on it. By the time she rises from her crouch, bear in hand, while she's not in that darkly gleeful mood she was when she arrived, she's at least back to Indifferent-and-Slightly-Condescending Gina mode. It might be eerie, except... except it's not like she's pretending to be happy, or over it. It's all just been reeled back inside.

The bear had been placed on the futon lightly after Gina had left the bedroom, because James is many things, but not a monster. "Oh, hey, we're back to getting my damn name wrong. This is more familiar territory.", James deadpans when he arrives at the bedroom and watches her dust the creepy-ass thing off. "No, no. Come on. You came into my house at 3 in the morning and yelled at me for daring to be sad. And for good or ill, we both live in this tiny town, and I'm just gonna assume that you're just going to keep breaking into my house on the regular because, I mean, come on, you're a bone-chilling specter of distilled terror. It's what you do. So." He crosses his arms as he leans on the doorway to the bedroom, because the Heckers have a long tradition of doorway-leaning. "Spill it. What pisses you off? What landmine did I step on?"

"I kind of like that you think I'm what distilled terror looks like." Gina says, entirely deadpan. There is zero hint she is joking. "It's adorable. I can't even stay mad." Is it weird to see an expressionless Gina holding a teddy bear in the dark in your bedroom? ...really, anybody who grew up with Gina would just have fond(?!) flashbacks of a young!Gina. "Also, didn't yell at you for being sad." One hand holds the bear to her, the other reaches to gently pet the bear's small muzzle. She sighs, a little deeply, "I forget how normal you are sometimes." Go James! Look, someone thinks you're /normal/! "Plus it never feels great to hear people talk about shit you sometimes looked forward to like it's a fate worse than death." The words are still bland, lips quirking at the corner in that little half smile, "Like I said, a me problem. And don't worry. You won't see me sneak in again."

James raises a brow. "... your use of the word 'see' in that sentence just makes me worry more.", he replies, and then gives a sigh and steps into the room, padding over to the futon and plopping down on it cross-legged. "Look, you're right. I am normal. Or whatever passes for it in this little slice of Hell. I'm just some dude. I write shitty books, I smoke lots of weed-", he says, then pauses and turns to dig in the milk crate until he finds an Altoids tin which he pops open and immediately starts rolling himself a joint with the contents. "... and if I could leave without melting my brain all over again, I would. But I can't. So I'm just .. trying to get by.", He says, and looks back to the door leading into the house. "I'm just trying not to end up like them."

"Normalcy tends to breed times of self-centered dickery. That's not them. You're probably safe from turning." Gina says in that dry way of hers. "Get high, go to sleep, and leave it alone. You don't have to explain yourself to me. Small town or not-- it won't matter. This shit was only a blip." As can be seen by Gina's continued casual tone and collected attitude. Is James /sure/ it was Gina who snapped back then? "You won't even have a souvenir to remember it by. Later, Hexer."

James frowns at Gina, halfway to bringing the joint to his lips so he can spark it up. "... no. Nuh-uh. You break into my house, my room, in the middle of the night, and somehow I'm the asshole?" He motions to the bear. "Give that here, it's mine. No takebacks on gifts. Pretty sure that applies even here. Because, fuckin' hell, I'm not safe from this shit. And I'm done forgetting stuff. My whole family died in this house. As long as I'm stuck here, I'm gonna figure out why. I'm gonna figure out why the fuck my uncle did that-", he says, motioning to the door back to the house proper. "I'm gonna do what I can to protect Diana. This shit isn't a blip. It's my life now. I fucking hate most of it, but, hell, here I am. So. Give it here."

Gina just sort of... looks at James. As if he's totally the strange one here-- again, not the one who broke into his house to drop off a stuffed bear and grab some coffee. She looks downright /suspicious/ of James. After a long moment, she says slowly, "You know, I take it back. You're definitely not normal." And she smirks, just a bit. "You're also fucking doomed. Your parents probably died because Gray Harbor sucks and they were delicious. Your uncle was a nutjob and probably trying to become one of them or draw one out or some stupid shit like that. And I dunno if I trust you to keep this kid if you know it's from me. You might fuck with it, and this one's got some special circumstances." Gina takes a casual step back. Two, while rolling on her heels. The smirk is in place, the step backs almost flourished in a taunt. "Buuuuuut. If you say my first name three times, maybe I'll leave it."

"Trick question. Your name, or your real name, the one inscribed in flaming letters on the deepest rock of the Abyss? Because if I say the first one three times, you curse me with leprosy or something, but if I say your true name three times you assume your true form and begin your reign of despair over the land for the next thousand years, and, frankly, I've got plans for the next 40 or so of those.", James quips, and lights his joint, taking a long, slow drag. "So, Gina, I probably am doomed no matter what I do. But here's the thing, Gina. I do remember my parents. They weren't miserable. They were good people. And they burned to death in their bed. I remember my Uncle. He was an asshole, but he sure as hell wasn't miserable either. I know enough to know that the things out there love it when we're miserable. I'm delicious. Them? Nah." He shakes his head, takes another toke. "So. Please. Leave the terrifying night-bear. If only to remind me to get better locks. Because I'm sure it'd get boring for you if it was always as easy to break in here as it was tonight, yeah?" A pause. "Gina."

"Heckler, you flatterer. I'm going to blush if you keep telling me how hot you think I am." Gina drawls. "But yeah. Bad things happen to good people. But if it makes you feel better to think your parents were special in the grand shit scheme of the world." She smooths out the bowtie on the bear, and then just....throws it right at James. Will he dodge? Will he not? It wasn't thrown terribly hard so it'll likely land on the futon if he doesn't bat it away. "And see, that's why you won my heart. You're always thinking of me." Chuckling low, she sticks her hands in her pockets and starts humming as she walks away. Is she humming 'Mary had a little lamb?' ...yup.

James blinks as the bear is launched in his direction, but he doesn't swat it away, instead, he reaches up to catch it, stopping it just before it would have hit the futon. "... hey, new friend.", he tells it, then looks up as Gina starts turning to leave. "Lock up behind you, yeah? Bring coffee next time.", he calls, less as an invitation and more in resignation that his house seems to have acquired a new demon. Best to keep it amused.