2022-04-05 - Soothing Rain

Chilly and raining is not a good combination, but that doesn't always stop people from being out. Exercising, groceries, or whatever it is, there's always something that needs to get done.

It doesn't look like it's anything so important for Gabby, however as she stands in the middle of the rain, near sidewalk but off the side by a puddle, sans umbrella. She's dressed in green rain poncho and yellow rainboots, bent over to stare down at the puddle. Red hair trails down either side, getting wet from the rain as it dangles from the angle.

To those that can see ghosts, there is a little boy just standing in his own rain boots and slicker, hands on his hips as he stares as well. He only looks about seven. To others? She's just staring at a puddle talking to herself.

"Sorry, Jimmy. I just don't see it. It looks like muddy water. It's just gonna splash. You have to show me again."

Recently injured people, people who spent at least a few hours in hospital in recent days, are not supposed to go out in the rain (or even in the sun, probably, unless it's to sit around and be invalids). But Una's restless and probably irritable, and as much as she loves her home (her kitchen!), there are limits, likely, to how much time she's willing to spend wallowing there. And so it is that, wrapped up against the rain in a purple slicker and boots, that she pads her way through the puddles and towards the pond.

Surprise shows on this redhead's expression as, pausing on the bridge (and leaning carefully up against its stone wall, all the better to marshal her energy reserves), those brown eyes fall towards Gabby and Jimmy. Evidently she does see ghosts, because though her brows knit together in consideration, she doesn't have that dismissive 'oh, crazy lady' look that so many are inclined to get.

"Hey," she says. "What've you seen?"

"UGHHHHH." It's a whine that only kids can really and truly manage. "Fine. I'll do it one more time. But you have to really watch this time. Get closer, come on." Jimmy insists on it, even stomping a foot. So Gabby leans even closer than she was, not seeming to care a lick about hair or anything else. "Alright, go ahead," she tells Jimmy just before Una's voice cuts through.

Jimmy blinks in surprise and looks up to the other redhead, then to Gabby, then back. "Uh." More than one person talking to him in a day? He's not used to that. "There's a thing. In the water. When you touch it. But only when it gets all oooooohhhhoooy." His arms drop to his side and he wiggles around like a wet noodle as a demonstration. It's very helpful, certainly. "Come see."

Gabby offers a brief smile, still bent, eyes taking in the other woman questioningly. It seems that she's reserving judgement for the moment. As well as introductions.

"Oh," says Una, who does not seem to have entirely followed Jimmy's explanation, but whom is eager enough for company (that is not her housemates) that she's willing to go along with it anyway. She's painstakingly slow in her approach, one foot in front of the other all the way across the rest of the bridge and down onto the shore to approach Jimmy and Gabby and their puddle.

There's something thoughtful in the way she looks at Gabby, perhaps as if she's trying to place the other woman. Have they met? Or maybe she just has one of those faces. Or maybe-- well. Who can say.

"Okay," she says, cheerfully. "Show me."

Jimmy looks delighted that someone else not only is talking to him, not only believes him, but also wants to see what he has to show them. This is, like, the best day ever for a dead kid. He waits with excitement for Una to make it over before anchoring himself down with wide legs and a crouch. "Okay. You guys watching. You have to watch really close. Are you watching really close? Really close, okay?"

"Okay Jimmy, we're watching, I promise." Gabby glances to Una with a nod. She noticed the pained walking, but isn't nosy enough to poke at it for the moment. Or maybe she's too nosy about the water to focus. "Go ahead and show us. Do your thing."

With that, Jimmy's hand slaps towards the water. There's something about the way his body interacts with it. He can't quite seem to fully interact with the water until halfway through the last second. His hand makes it into the water, but as it's pulling back out, there's a warble and a splash as he concentrates enough to make an actual connection. But that strange warble causes a ripple in the water, which must have been what he's was talking about. In that moment, they can feel how very thin the Veil is right there for just that split second and the puddle acts as a mirror, or rather, a door. There's a shadow darting behind it, golden eyes looking like it was just waiting for that warble to happen again. A face, a lot like a tiger, but it's stripes made of lava, rather than fur launches straight towards the group.

It's only for a second, for as long as a warble lasts. Not long enough for anything to get through of course, then the vision is gone. But a couple tufts of fur float now at the top of the puddle.

Gabby lets out a sharp noise as the tiger launches forward, jumping back and drawing Jimmy back with her. "What the FUCK!"

"I'm watching," promises Una, with a bright, encouraging smile: she likes kids, and Jimmy seems like a nice one. She positions herself just behind and to the left, all the better to get a proper view; she even grins, cheerfully, in Gabby's direction. Playing along with kids is great fun, right?

Maybe she starts to realise something about Jimmy as he slaps at that water. Maybe she realises a whole lot more a few seconds later, when her face freezes into a mask of-- what? Not precisely terror, but something akin to it, maybe. She lets out an involuntarily little noise-- a little gasp-- and takes half a step backwards, followed by several more as, quite without intending to, she echoes the other woman: "What the fucking fuck?!"

She drops into a crouch, after that, focusing for several seconds on just breathing, her mouth set into a hard line, her gaze dropped to the ground.

There is laughter to echo their adult panic. A kid having the time of his life. How many people get to see a tiger? How many of them get to see a lava tiger at that? How cool is that? "That was awesome! You guys wanna see me do it again??" Jimmy lifts his hand and starts running back towards the puddle. Gabby is already running towards him to pull him into a bear hug. "No! No no no no no. Thank you. Thank you for sharing that with us, Jimmy. But it is super not safe to do that again. That tiger can't hurt you, but he can totally eat us and then we wouldn't be able to come say hi to you anymore."

Gabby's eyes are wide, and a little panicked. Parts of Jimmy's body aren't fully be contained in the hug. Chances are, based on the trend of his clothes, that he's still very new to the whole ghost thing and getting used to interacting with stuff. "Help," she mouths towards Una, feeling bad for asking when she spots that the other woman is clearly in pain.

Una winces, but manages to straighten, taking in a sharp little breath and then exhaling it in a way that suggests, no, that wasn't much fun, but she's managing. She even-- more or less-- manages a smile on her face, and hastily picks up Gabby's cause: it's an important one.

"Plus," she says, hastily, "we don't want to upset him, right? That's like teasing-- um, like teasing a dog, I guess? And it's not just that he could hurt us, but, well, you wouldn't want to hurt him, right? Or be mean to him. He's just... got to live his life, in there, okay? And that's super cool, that he gets to. That he's there."

'Super cool' may not be Una's chosen descriptor of it, given the way she glances warily towards that puddle, as if she still expects a paw, or a tooth, to come launching out of it at any moment.

Gabby loosens her grip when Jimmy starts trying to wiggle to get free. She backs up a couple steps to give him space. His foot stomps again and fists go to his hips as he starts to look as though he's going to argue. Then Una is chiming in and pointing out how bad it would be for the lion. "Oh yeah. My sister use to talk about how bad zoos and stuff were. That's probably were he'd end up, huh. At a zoo. Cause lions aren't from around here. Specially fiery ones."

Gabby takes a breath of relief when Una seems to hit the right trigger. "Didn't you say earlier that your sister comes here to talk to you because she can kind of feel that you're still around here, too? What if they can't catch it, and he gets loose and hurts her while she's here visiting you? You don't want that." His eyes widen at that. That wasn't something he thought of either. "Right." Jimmy has a lot of stuff to think about now. "It was cool though, right?"

"It was very cool," Gabby assures, before glancing to Una.

Una, too, shows distinct relief in her expressive face as little Jimmy takes their words on board. She exhales, though only gently, and gives a little confirming nod.

"Exceptionally cool," is what she says, managing this time to grin properly in the kid's direction. "But yeah - it's not really nice, when animals get locked up like that. They don't mean to hurt us, but sometimes they get angry and... well. We have to respect them, so that they respect us, right? Like snakes. As long as we don't bug them, they tend to leave us alone."

Her hands, which had fallen into fists, begin to unravel themselves, the sheer white of her knuckles giving away to pinker skin. "It's cool that your sister comes to visit, too. I--" a pause. But no, Una is used to talking to dead kids, now, courtesy of one Cynthia, now out of reach until next winter. "I bet it's nice to see her. And know she cares."

"It was cool." Jimmy repeats that again. "Yeah." It's a brief response to the stuff about his sister, confused eyes drifting up towards Una for a moment. "It is nice." His head dips again. "I have to go think. I'm tired." Do ghosts get tired? Whatever it takes to materialize like he was probably wore out whatever energy he does have.

"Exceptionally cool," he whispers as he vanishes out of sight.

Gabby lets out a breath and wipes a hand down her face. "Ho-ly shiiiiit. I thought that thing was going to bite my face off."

Una opens her mouth in order to say something more to Jimmy, though exactly what one might say to a little boy ghost in this moment seems not to immediately come to mind, and that, in turn, means she entirely misses her chance: Jimmy disappears.

Gabby's reaction, though, makes the shorter redhead laugh unhappily (not the smartest thing to do: it results in another wince, but not one that stops the sound altogether), the corners of her mouth twisting upwards in acknowledgement. "I know, right? Fuck. I wasn't sure what to expect, but-- that was definitely not it. I'm, uh, glad not to run into that thing on a dark street corner, that's for absolutely certain."

"I deal with prankster kid ghosts all the time. I thought it was just going to be some kind of splash prank. I didn't expect it to actually be something. Certainly not something so genuinely terrifying. " Hand on her heart, Gabby's laughter is happy, rather than unhappy. She seems delighted for the experience, if nothing else. After all, nothing bad ended up happening, right?

"You need to sit down? You look like you're gonna pass out if you keep standing."

"Oh! That's where I remember you from. You were in the coffee shop, awhile back, with some... friends who weren't there, if you know what I mean." Una's now giving Gabby an appraising glance, but not an unfriendly one. "You see a lot of ghosts, then." Not a question.

She shifts, uncomfortably, and then shakes her head. "I'm good, I think. Okay, at least. Took a... Dream Tree to the chest a few days back, and I'm still supposed to be in bed, but, well." She's not. She's standing out in the rain several blocks from home, instead, because of reasons.

"I go to the coffee shop a lot. I can't always tell whose there and who isn't, I'm afraid. Unless there are obvious signs, of course. Or they tell me." Which means Una didn't really narrow it down. "But yeah, that sounds like me," Gabby laughs. See a lot of ghosts? "Since I was a wee babe, fresh out of the egg donor."

"You're good, eh? Took a tree to the chest, so now you figured you'd take a stroll in the rain and see about taking a lava tiger to the face?" Her smile half quirks to the side. "Come on. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you down."

The face Una makes suggests she's well aware of how ridiculous she sounds, especially when Gabby puts it that way. "I may have over-estimated my ability to move normally," she allows, with a wry little chuckle. "I'm not used to hurting."

Much more interesting, however, is that other part of the conversation, which she circles back around to now. "Always? That must have been-- tough, as a child. I see them, but only when they're actually... I mean, not all of them, I guess is what I'm trying to say, and that's a guess, because obviously I don't know about the ones I don't know about, right? And I definitely can't tell the difference, half the time. Most of the time. That makes it sound like ghosts are completely common-place, for me, and they're really not."

"I would say that not being used to hurting is probably a good thing. Right? Though, it does kind make it hard to sort out how well you'll do with it when the time comes. You can get a cab back home, at least. If you walked here. Probably a good idea."

Gabby smirks a little as she watches Una try to figure out what she means regarding ghosts, green eyes dancing with amusement. "They may be more common place than you think and you just don't know it," is pointed out with a brow waggle. "And you never get really super lonely if you know how to reach out. Which is why it wasn't all that tough for me as a kid. I mean. It was tough for everyone else, cause they couldn't see them."

"It'll be humiliating to get a cab for that short a distance, but... yes, I think you're right," allows Una. More to the point, she does, now, venture towards a nearby bench, sitting herself carefully down upon the edge of it, and trying-- managing, just barely-- not to jolt herself too much in the process.

"So you actually... actively seek them out? You go looking for them? Or they just come to you naturally?" The question comes with a thoughtful frown, Una giving Gabby another appraising look. "I can see how that would be problematic. When you're talking to someone, and no one else can see them."

"I don't think they'll judge you so long as you're paying. I'm pretty sure they're just happy to have money." Gabby follows after, slouching onto the bench next to Una and putting one of her rain boots up on the bench next to her so that she can put her chin on her knee and lean forward a bit.

"I don't have to look for them. Not really. I've got this strange sort of pull to me. Never been able to sort out why. It's not a power like people like us have powers or anything. It's just a thing. They come. I walk, and I talk, and they just--" she makes a poof gesture as if someone was appearing. "Sometimes I walk and talk on purpose. I like talking to them."

There's truth in that, and Una allows it with a quick breath of laughter, shifting her position so that she can continue to look at Gabby. The bench is wet, naturally, but at least her rain jacket is long enough to give her some vague hope towards dryness.

"Huh," she says, instead. "That's interesting. I mean, I know about people having power, obviously. I just hadn't thought too much about people having power outside of that. I know it's got to be pretty lonely being a ghost, a lot of the time, though. And I bet some of them have interesting things to say. We have one in my house, but he doesn't really talk to us; it's just that he makes sure things get thrown around every so often, when he's trying to make a point, which is a completely different thing."

"Some of them don't ever learn how to pull themselves out of the space where it's just them and over to us. So we can't see them, can't talk to them. But they can see us. They can interact with stuff. It's super frustrating for them. Some get so angry that as the years pass they dissolve into only that emotion and become poltergeists of a sort. It's not the only kind of poltergeist, there's lots of kinds, but it's one of the kinds." Gabby's upper teeth gnaw on her knee for a moment thoughtfully.

She squints at that puddle and the bits of fur that are floating there. "A lot of them are lonely. Some don't know they have died and don't get why people won't listen. Some are just memories stuck in a loop and aren't really ghosts, just energy left over. You can't really interact with those." Her eyes drift to Una. "How often do you talk to him when he's not throwing things? Just randomly strike up a conversation without a reason, sometimes. Talk to him about nothing, and everything. When you're feeling lonely, talk to him. You might feel silly, but it might help him stop throwing stuff, too.

Ghosts are clearly interesting to Una, whose thoughtful expression turns more thoughtful still. "He's an asshole," she explains, after a moment's consideration. "I mean-- not just because he's a ghost who throws things sometimes. He stole artefacts from the local natives, back in the 1860s or so, and did horrible things to them. I think he wants us to fix it, now, which is something, but trying to make up for the bad things you've done doesn't--" Doesn't stop you from being an asshole.

But for all of this, there's something hesitant in her expression, too. "I'm not sure if anyone before us could see him-- I mean, not see, because he's not visible. But note his presence. I mean, my mom lived in this house, but she won't tell me anything, and I don't know if people before that were like us. Maybe he's just been hanging around for a hundred and more years, hoping someone listens."

Beat. "But he's still an asshole."

"Horrible things to the artifacts or to the natives?" There are varying degrees of awful in Gabby's mind that clearly derive from that answer. "Trying to make up for what you've done doesn't stop you from being an asshole, but it's a start towards redemption." Gabby slides off the bench and flops down onto the ground, laying out on it as if she were going to make a snow angel. Only there's no snow. She's just letting the rain fall down onto her as she keeps her eyes closed. It actually looks kind of peaceful as she stays quiet and things about what Una said for a long few seconds.

"It's been, what, 150 years for him? Stuck, guilt eating him alive, wanting to fix the evil that he inflicted, but having no way of reaching out, no way of doing it himself. But his redemption could bring peace to his spirit, to who knows how many others who are caught up in his misdeeds." Her hand lifts, palm up to catch raindrops. "He's an asshole. But are you?"

Una follows Gabby's progress to the ground with a somewhat bemused expression, but doesn't comment. Instead, she listens to the other woman, chewing over what she has to say-- right until that last remark.

"I'm not an asshole," is definite: she's absolutely sure of this.

"He did horrible things to the natives. I don't know what happened to the things he stole. We're, my housemates and I, trying to find them, so that hopefully they can be returned. But he won't tell us where they are, even though he's the one who alerted us to what he did in the first place. I mean," there's a pause, there, and a sigh. "I don't even know for absolutely certain that the ghost is him, and not someone else, trying to make up for what he did. It'd be so much easier if he would talk."

Beat. "Or she, I guess."

Gabby tilts her head and shields her eyes from the rain for a moment so that she can squint at Una. "Mmm. I agree. You don't strike me as an asshole. Granted, I've only known you for, like, fifteen minutes. But I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character. It's kept me alive this long." Her head falls back, hand splashing back to the ground with a plop of wet soil.

"You want me to have a talk with him? See if I can see him? Or her. Or /them/. Could be ghosts trying to pull a con. They want to know where the artifacts are, they're using you to find them by pretending to be him."

"... I hadn't thought of that as a possibility," admits Una. She had been looking at least mildly pleased: being identified as someone who is probably not an asshole is, as a general rule, a good thing. Now she looks worried, and chews on her lower lip in between comments.

"Would you? I'd appreciate that. It'd be helpful to know something about what he-- or she or they-- is, and what... well, what's really going on. And just because I can't see him, doesn't mean that he can't be seen, right? Or that he can't communicate. We tried putting magnetic letters up on the fridge, but that didn't work-- I mean, they didn't get touched, as far as I could ever see, which was disappointing."

"I can feel you stressing out from here," Gabby says with her eyes closed. "Come lay down in the rain. You seem like you could use it. It might hurt a little bit, but I'll help you get up, I promise. Come on." That last bit seems to come a moment after she feels like Una is about to argue with her about it. Her hand lifts again, making a come hither gesture. Eyes? Still closed.

"I know it seems silly. Sometimes you need silly. It's good though, Very relaxing in a way you don't understand until you're down here. But yeah, I'll help out with the old coot. We'll see what's going on and if it's really who it says they are. If not, we'll see what we can do about getting rid of it, if you'd like. Always possible. I've learned a few tricks along the way."

Una does, indeed, open her mouth to argue, her cheeks pink with discomfort that has nothing to do with her injuries.

But she stops-- and then, suddenly, she laughs.

"Yeah," she says. "All right. As long as you really will help me up again afterwards." And so she stands (which, ow), and then begins pretzeling herself in an attempt to lay down in a way that doesn't hurt more than it needs to (this is clearly impossible, but, well, gotta give a girl props for trying). Finally-- finally -- she flattens herself out, face tipped up to the rainy sky, and exhales.

"Oh," she says, then. Oh!

Gabby grins when she hears the laugh, knowing already that she's won.

"I really will help you up." It's a promise that Gabby intends to keep. Eyes continue to stay closed, allowing Una to keep her dignity by not watching as she struggles to get down while injured. Then Gabby hears that Oh. "There it is."

"Now take a deep breath through your nose, careful not to inhale the rain. When you exhale take all that stress that's buzzing around you like a thousand flies and imagine them all pushing themselves into the ground and away from your body. Like the rain is washing them off of you. Cleansing you. Just let the water wash it all away."

It's pretty likely that Una feels at least a little silly following Gabby's instructions, for all that the other redhead hasn't led her wrong thus far. But-- she's here now, isn't she?

She closes her eyes, and inhales through her nose. Her abrupt laughter is probably thanks to her messing that up slightly, and getting some rain up her nose, but her second attempt seems to go better. Inhale; exhale. Breathe.

She's silent after that, except for the steady sound of her breathing, the in and out that confirms she's fallen into the rhythm of it.

In... and out.

It's clear that Gabby doesn't feel silly. But then, she walks around talking to thin air all the time, so it's hard to say what might make her feel silly, isn't it? The laughter has her turning her head and cracking an eye open for just a second, but she doesn't peek for long.

Breathe.

Hearing the breath start to even out, her head nods once. Good, that's good. "You want me to help by giving you some of my calm? Or you want to keep going and find your own?"

"... Oh," says Una, her voice sounding a little muzzy but not-- yet-- as calm as it could be. There's still tightness in there, and a tiredness that may be more difficult to banish. A little wistful, she says, finally, "Could you? I'm usually not so... so tense. It's hard to find my way back from it."

"Of course." With a soft breath, Gabby lowers the walls over her own emotional and mental barriers, feeling the powers run through her and letting then seep out towards Una to wash over her much like the rain itself. The calm washes in to chase out the stress and the frustration that have taken such a firm grip on the poor redhead as of late. "It'll only last for a little bit, but maybe it'll be enough to help you find your own." It's whispered softly, hopefully.

There's a clear, audible breath sound from Una as that emotional rain washes over her, sinking in to her in a way that is not unlike the raindrops, falling steadily onto her cheeks, her hands, the line of skin at her waist where her shirt has ridden up and her rain jacket fallen open.

She's silent, after that, except for the lower, longer breaths, each one just a little lighter in weight.

"I hope so," is what she says, finally. And, also? "Thank you. That does... help."

There's a gentle humming from Gabby. It's a peaceful, happy noise as the rain continues to fall on her. "I'm glad to hear it," she offers in a pleased tone.

"What's been going on that you have so much stress in you? You seem like there's been a heavy weight. Do you want to talk about it, or just soak in the relief for a bit?

Somewhere along the way, Una has forgotten, it seems, that she doesn't even know Gabby's name-- that she's talking to a complete stranger, albeit one with whom she's shared an experience, both in the specific recent sense, and in the sense of 'yeah, we both have power in this fucked up world'.

Her hesitation in answering, now, is not related to that, but instead seems to be about attempting to pull it all together: to explain herself. "One of my housemates literally just woke up to her shine," she explains, "and then had to drive my other housemate and I to the hospital, after we were both pretty much stamped on by trees. She's got enough to deal with without having to see that and know how dangerous it can be, first hand. And it was my first time being injured, and... And I went home to try and fix things up with my mom, and she... well, it didn't work. She ran so hard from her power she won't even acknowledge it."

So many words. So many feelings. Though for the moment, Una is largely disconnected from the feelings themselves: she's still sounding relaxed, breathing in and out between thoughts.

"It's just been a lot."

Bah! Who needs names? Connections can run so much deeper, can't they? It's likely that Gabby hasn't even realized at this point that she doesn't know Una's name yet.

"Stamped on by a tree? No wonder you're having such a hard time moving. That sounds painful. I'm surprised you're walking at all. Treebeard from that Lord of The Rings movie was big enough to squish you completely. I'm glad you weren't hurt worse, though." How do you say sorry your mom sucks, but in a nice way? "Maybe she'll come around eventually? Do you have a connection that doesn't involve power stuff at least?"

"These were Pines," says Una, by way of explanation. Totally different to Treebeard, though that reference does make her chuckle. "But I was Squirrel, so. I-- yeah. Me too. It could've been a lot worse, and I'm going to be fine."

The rain makes it hard to see if Una is crying, though she is: just a tear or two, silently joining the raindrops as they slide down her face. She exhales shakily, and then adds, "Yeah, maybe. We used to be close, and now... it's hard to know what to say. And... I mean, I have people who care about me, here. And people I care about. So it's not like I'm alone or anything. I'm lucky."

"A squirrel versus a tree doesn't sound like a very fair fight to me. But I think you're right. You're going to be just fine. In every way. Some things just take time."

Gabby listens as the rain falls, a rain soaked hand reaching out to plop on top of Una's arm lightly. It just lays there in silent support. "You sound very lucky. That's a great thing. Having people around who care about you is awesome. But you're allowed to have that and still want what you want from your mom. It's alright to want both. That doesn't make you selfish, you know." There's silence for a long moment after that. "Is it hard to know what to say? Or hard to say what you want to say because you're afraid she'll run away from it?"

There's another little inhale from Una at the weight of that hand-- but not a bad inhale, especially as it gets followed shortly after by a long, even exhale. "Both," is what she says, finally. "So much of where I am in life, now, all relates back to the moment when we... split. So it's hard to find a topic that isn't just completely unrelated to either of us that doesn't tread into dangerous waters. I get it: she grew up in this town, and the longer I'm here, the more I can see how it could really fuck a person up. But also..."

She'd shrug her shoulders, if they weren't planted firmly on the wet earth. "So there we are. I need to-- I mean, I want to, I'm trying to-- let it go a bit. We'll come back to each other, somehow, or we won't. At least I've tried."

"Yeeeeeah. This place is a whole ass mess, ain't it? I haven't been through much myself, but the stories that I hear from the ghosts are a trip, man." Gabby lets out a low whistle. "It'll either fuck a person up, or make them strong as anything. Maybe a little of both in a bunch of cases. I think that last one seems to be what I see a lot of in the case of the shinies. If it doesn't break you, you can't be broken. But it will chip you."

Her head can be heard bopping against the wet soil. "Sometimes trying is all you have. You should be proud of yourself for that."

"That's a way to put it," agrees Una, low and not-quite amused. "It plays with us. Takes us as close as it can to breaking point, then gives us a moment to recover so that it can do it all over again. And sure, you get stronger, more resilient, but it also does more and more; worse and worse. But--"

She breaks off, exhales again. "But there's good things, too. So. Have you been in town long? I'm surprised it's left you alone. You glow. I mean, a lot. And you have the ghost thing."

"Being able to find the good is important. Sounds to me like you've been able to find a lot of it, which is a great thing. We all need that sometimes." Gabby smirks. "Oh, I've been here for a while. But I keep my head down and stay out of things. Most people avoid me because of the whole crazy lady reputation." She laughs at that.

"I think it just picks on me in other ways, maybe partly the ghost things. It's been a whopper since I got here, after all. There's no escaping there here." There's a little grin. "But, I like to poke, too. Maybe they like that. I don't mind just opening up a door and walking right in. So, they don't have to come after me. Because I go to them."

"You'll have to meet my housemates, when you come and talk to our ghost," Una decides, in a way that suggests she's not going to allow demurrals here: introducing Gabby to people who won't think she's (too) crazy is her new project. "I know you've got the ghosts to talk to, but sometimes people who're still here and breathing are good to have, too."

She turns her head, now, glancing across at the other redhead. "I guess it doesn't surprise me that there are so many ghosts in this town, yeah. Or that you chase them down, as it were. But still. Living people are good, too, you know?"

"Well, I assumed that was a given," Gabby chuckled. "Strange woman coming into their house to chat with the ghost that likes to throw stuff might draw some curiosity out of them, after all." There doesn't appear to be any issues with the thought of meeting Una's housemates from the other redhead.

But that last comment? "Are they, though?" Her tone lifts with the question and it's clearly and genuinely skeptical. "I'll agree that some living people are good. In the same way that some dead ones are. After all, can't be a good dead one without living first, right?" There's a giggle with that. "Also, I met you, and you're a good one I think. So, it'd be dumb so say there's none, when I'm clearly wrong."

"It miiiiiight," agrees Una, with a chuckle. "I mean, they've probably seen and heard worse. Jules is Quinault, so it's kind of personal for her, this ghost. I'm pretty sure he's embarrassed, being around her, which is... something, right?" Another tick for the 'asshole, but can be rehabilitated' column.

Slower, and more seriously, is her reply to that other thread of the conversation, made as she lifts one hand towards the sky. Rain drips across it; she doesn't seem to mind. "I like to think I'm a good one, yeah. I mean-- watch out, now that we've met you'll probably end up with cookies. I take the point, though. There's a whole lot of assholes out there. But good people, too. You just have to be able to work out which is which, which is, I guess, sometimes not as easy as it should be."

"Very personal, I imagine. Her people's artifacts. I'm sure she has a few choice words to share with the man. Assuming it's actually him." Gabby chuckles at the thought. "I wonder if that's part of why he hides. His guilt may be part of what keeps him from being fully able to manifest. We'll have to see."

"Oh noooo. Not cookies. That's just the worst." Gabby says it slow and playfully. "I love cookies. Ruth used to make them a lot, but these days not so much. I think her arthritis is acting up. She's the woman that took me in when I first got here. She lets me stay with her and I keep the house up for her since she's gotten up in age and can't do it herself. Only room she won't let me touch is her room. She used to. Not anymore though. Folks and their secrets." Her head shakes. "But she's one of the good ones. I'm sure she'd love some of your cookies, too."

"The world I grew up in was all assholes with a little bright spot here or there of a single non-asshole along the way. It's gotten better as I got older and learned how to pick the good ones out of the crowd."

It's difficult to nod, from this position, but Una makes a stab at it, as useless as it is for getting across a point. "Yeah," she agrees. "Which... I get. Of course I do." It being personal for Jules? Or guilt being part of the issue? She doesn't specify.

Instead, there's a thoughtful breath for Gabby's mention of 'took me in', though she's polite and doesn't query it. "Oh-- that's so lovely, that she looks out for you like that. And I bet you look out for her, too. It's good to have people. I'm sorry to hear that maybe her health isn't so good, now. I imagine that's got to be tough. I'll make cookies for you both, then; what kind do you like?" She lets out a happy little laugh, clearly delighted by this prospect of having more people to bake for. Sometimes, Una's word is very simple. (And sometimes, really not so much.) "I like showing my care through food. It's such a small thing, but... I find it can help."

Pointing her booted toes, she adds, then, "Yeah. Learning to pick the assholes is an important life skill. I'm sorry, though. That there were mostly assholes."

"I do look out for her even if she refuses to leave the house anymore. But she's already a tough old broad." Una can't see it, but a look crosses Gabby's face at something she says. "No, I mean. No. Her health has actually been pretty great lately. Better in the past few months than I've seen it in the year before. But I know she's hiding something." Yup. Must be the arthritis.

"Peanut Butter." Suddenly. "We both love peanut butter! Cooking is a great way to show you care. I like to busk sometimes. Do some street performing here and there. Then I'll bring her home her favorite treats. Her face just lights up."

"Ah, it's okay. Mostly assholes made me the delight that I am today."

The corresponding look on Una's face is a confused one, and some of that comes into her voice, too, when she says, "Oh, okay. Sorry-- I assumed. It's great, if her health is better. You don't want to ask?"

Maybe she already feels bad having asked, or having opened this particular conversational gambit in the first place, because she's very quick to add, "Peanut butter it is! I love peanut butter cookies, too. There's just something so warm and cozy about them, isn't there? What kind of performance do you do?"

"Assholes," she adds, after a moment, "do serve their purpose, I guess."

"It's super great that her health is better. I have asked, she just waves it all off like it's nothing. I'm inclined to let people have their secrets, but if there's something wrong then I want to help her. I'm guessing it has something to do with her room and why she won't let me in there. Maybe it's a secret drug den! But I'd totally help her out with that if she needed it. I'd do anything for her. It'd explain the weird smell in there, too. Ugh, it was awful. She wouldn't let me clean it out, either. Clearly something spilled in there, but she was too proud to let me help."

Gabby is frustrated but adoring. "Oh, just a little singing, and dancing with some slight of hand pick-pocketing from the crowd. Everyone gets their stuff back, of course. It's just part of the act."

Una... Una stops. She's silent long enough that it may become distinctly notable, and it's probably a good thing that Gabby can't see her face right now, because that expression? It's one of dawning horror, and a deep, unhappy realisation.

"Um," she says, finally. And then, "Oh, that's cool. The act. I'd like to see it, one day."

A very good thing Gabby cannot see her face. Who knows if she'd be able to understand that look of horror and realization and piece together what it means. She hasn't seemed to have pieced together the puzzle herself just yet. Maybe a part of her is just unwilling to. Or Ruth is just a very clever old woman and is doing a good job at faking alive whenever Gabby is around.

"You should sometime. It's usually when it's nice out and there's a lot of people, though. Otherwise there's not a lot of money to be found. Not a lot of money here in general. Same crowds typically."

Una would probably like to say something. Would probably like to suggest that maybe Gabby should go into that room one of these days, whatever her friend says. But that sets her up for trauma, and Una doesn't want to-- well. See? It's a mess. It's a mess, and that's why Una is at least partway relieved when Gabby lets that go.

"I'll track you down," promises Una, voice not quite as light and even as it had been, but at least friendly and genuine. "Once the crowds start up, I guess. I keep hearing we'll be overrun by tourists-- well, not quite that bad. I know this town still suffers a bit. The Veil keeps everything down, in its way."

"The calm is wearing off. Sorry that it couldn't last longer. But you sound a little bit better than you were before." Though, maybe with a new moral dilemma to have to worry about, over a girl whose name she doesn't even know. The ironies in life.

"You totally should. I'm always around, people just tend to glance past me." Usually by design. "Tourist season will be big for me, I think. I'll manage to squirrel away some money and pitch in a little more around the house. It'll be great. Hard to keep down normal jobs when you end up helping dead people a fourth of the time and then can't explain yourself properly to the boss."

"Mm," says Una, not quite committing to anything until, a few moments later, "No, it still helped. I have... more equilibrium, I think, than I did. I hadn't thought of that... that it would be hard to keep down a job like that." The younger redhead turns her head again, all the better to get at least a partial look at her nameless companion. At least she's managed, now, to turn her expression back to something more neutral, less likely to convey some of what she is, surely, still thinking.

"You'd need a boss who was like us, and who understood, but even then... that's rough. I hope it's an excellent season for you. You and your friend. I'm sure she appreciates the help you give her, even when you can't contribute much monetarily. And the company. I think it must be terribly sad, getting older. A lot of the older people I've met don't seem to have many friends left."

"Hey, I'll take more equilibrium. It's better than nothing! You should do the rain thing, and try some other meditation stuff, too. It might help. But, talking to someone while you were all chilled out might have been the real weight lifter there, to be really honest. Let you take the weight from your shoulders and kind of toss it into the air a little. Redistribute it some."

Gabby's head turns, too and she grins. "Yeah, I tried that. They were still ending up losing product, or having customers coming about me being crazy and scaring them off. It's a bad look. Can't blame 'em. I get it. I do some online stuff, too. Here and there. Makes ends meet. But Ruth says we're just fine on her pension. I just gotta keep up the house like a good kid out to." She laughs.

Which probably explains why Ruth doesn't want Gabby finding out the truth.

This time, unfortunately, Gabby might see more of Una's expression: it's only there for a moment, but there's an unquestionable wince when Gabby mentions Ruth's pension.

Ah. Ah. Well shit.

And so what she says, is, "Yeah, I'll have to remember this. There's something-- it can be hard to talk about things, sometimes. But it's easier, maybe, when you're staring at the sky and you're connected to the earth, and-- the rain, too, maybe. Whatever it is, I'll take it, and try to replicate it. I'm usually fine. A little anxious, a little emotional, but generally a happy person."

Gabby does in fact see that flicker of expression. But at least it seems like she doesn't appear to take it for what it actually means. Una has to remember that Gabby is used to a far more judgmental people. "I know. I'm not a kid. I'm not even her kid. Living in her house and playing like I am because we're both lonely is kinda sad." Her face turns back up towards the sky, eyes closing as the rain fall over her more. "But the arrangement works for us. She always wanted a daughter, and I always wanted a mom. Or a grandma. It just kinda fit. So no judging," she laughs.

"Hmm, it could also be easier to talk to some strange girl you just met out in the rain, who realistically you may never see again. You could tell me everything about yourself and never have to worry about what I thought about you, because, who cares? Sometimes, that makes it way easier."

Una's expression, then, flickers between relieved and also deeply apologetic. "I'm not judging," she promises. "I get it. I mean-- not quite as well as you do, obviously, because I'm on the outside, looking in, but... I get being lonely. And I get wanting to feel like you belong. Hell, that's half the reason I ended up here. I suddenly knew where I came from, or at least where my mom did, and where her mom did. I was hoping it'd help me feel connected."

The briefest of pauses, and then she barrels on, "So genuinely, I'm glad you both get that. I bet she loves you even more than you could ever know."

She turns her head again, then, gaze lifted back up towards the rainy sky. "It could be that too," she allows. "And if so, I'm going to ruin it. I'm Una. Una Irving. I live at 5 Oak. There are always cookies on hand, coffee to drink, and there's a whole yard to lay back on, should the moment call for it."

There's a smile on Gabby's face as she listens. "See? I knew you were one of the good ones. Thank you. That means a lot. I've never really felt like I belonged anywhere. But I guess you can kind of feel like you belong with a person. At least in an abstract kind of way. I get that. I can feel that with Ruth. She's a great person. I love her to death."

"Una? I don't think I've heard that name before. That's really pretty. I'm Gabby. I'll stop by in the next few days and we'll see what we can see about your little ghost friend, yeah?"

And beyond death, Una may think, but does not actually say. "I'm glad. Good." Her nod is a firm one, despite the awkward angle.

"Thank you. I'm not sure where Mom got it from. Gabby is pretty too. I should-- I guess I should get up. Get a cab, get into dry clothes. But, do stop by, yeah? I'll be there. With cookies."

Gabby hops up without challenge and moves over towards Una. She reaches down and offers a hand towards Una. "You should maybe roll to the side and then shift up? That might make it a little bit easier to help you up. Or I can just pull you straight up and just do a single shock and get it over with."

"I will totally be there. For you, and also for cookies."

"Mom always told me... pulling bandaids off is less painful if you do it all in one go." And so, Una takes that offered hand, bracing herself for the inevitable impact of being pulled up and back to her feet. Ow. But also... well. It could be worse.

"Cookies," she adds, with a laugh, "make everything better."

"Go find yourself a healer, girly, get yourself patched up. This town is ripe with them. Just throw a rock and you'll find one." Gabby laughs. "Take care of yourself, Una. I'll see you soon. You and those yummy cookies."