undergrounds | Tell me that I'll figure it out...

Ghoul rolls his eyes at the question. "I'm lookin' at you and talkin' to you, ain't I?" Which he has to do very carefully, by the way, because he doesn't want other people looking at him like he's a lunatic.

"You don't like it when I stick my parts through you, but now you're gonna float through me 'cause you think you can get away with it?" he hisses quietly, because he remembers- sort of, mostly. Remembers chasing after a grumpy paint-faced ghost during the full moon a while back. How many of those could there possibly be around here? This has to be the same one... And to demonstrate how incredibly rude it is to ghost people out of nowhere, Ghoul extends an arm and swipes it through Rorschach's torso.

...Maybe a couple times. Just to make sure he gets the point.

"Most people can't." Rorschach had just gotten used to going through people because they never noticed him anyway. Which meant that this kid (and with how old Rorschach was, everyone was a kid to him these days) had to be supernatural in some respect. He stands there, arms folded, decidedly unimpressed as Ghoul swipes his arm through his body. Really? Was that necessary?

"Do I know you?" There was something oddly familiar about the kid with the attitude. He would have remembered if he'd met him before. There was so few people that could actually interact with him that he would have taken note of Ghoul before now.

Well. Fair enough, but still. He can't just go blasting through people, Jesus. Maybe they can't see him, but surely they can feel that cold tingly shit.

It feels really weird and even uncomfortable, which is the only thing that prevents Ghoul from continuing to jab through Rorschach's manifestation. He pulls his arm away, sticking it inside his hoodie pocket along with his other hand as he clears his throat. "No." They don't know each other. "Not really." But they've met. Technically.

Ghoul's nose wrinkles and he eventually adds, "Never been like, formally introduced or nothin'. Seen you around before, though."

Manners are something that Rorschach didn't have even when he was alive. That sure wasn't going to change with him being dead. He looks Ghoul over, and while they both hover right around the same height, the ex-hunter seems bigger with his dark and intimidating presence.

His eyes, despite being behind the mask, burn into Ghoul's. "You a hunter?" That was the most likely place he's been seen. Rorschach calls Hillingdon House home most of the time.

A hunter. There's a burst of laughter at that one. "Fuck no." Yeah, he's totally hunter material. Then again, maybe he is. Maybe more like a Crow hunter. Ghoul laughs to himself at that thought too, much quieter than before, as he begins to walk somewhere a little more private. If he's going to talk to a ghost, it might as well be some place out of sight. "C'mon."

He doesn't really want to fess up and say hi I'm that dog who you ran face-first in to a tree, so he makes sure to quickly change the subject once they find a nice hidey-hole. "What the hell happened to your face?" Yikes... Speaking of manners... "Did you die from that whatever-that-is? Somebody get you with a cursed pillowcase?" He uses his hand to gesture at his own face, meaning the mask.

Rorschach follows Ghoul down a side street, doing that unnerving thing of walking right through things that are in his way instead of moving around them. He's forgotten how humans are supposed to act physically after being dead for so long.

The ex-hunter goes silent for a long moment before he answers in that same raspy tone. "You ask too many questions." It'll take a lot more than that to get Rorschach to answer them. One hand does come up and run over his mask. It's been his face for so long that he sometimes forgets that there's another one below it. A weak and human one. He'd never had any use for it and had discarded long ago.

"No I don't," he huffs out, his hand lowering and settling on his hip. "I only asked you two." Three, actually, but who's counting? Obviously not Ghoul.

Rorschach cocks his head, wondering just where he's seen this kid before. The blots move around his eyes and nose, forming a face pattern for a moment before dispersing again.

He could just leave Ghoul and his annoyances behind, but truth be told, he's a little lonely. Not that he'll ever fully admit it to himself. There aren't many people who can either see him or are willing to talk to him. "I'll answer one."

Ghoul's head tilts to the side as well, but somehow he manages to do it with some sort of dumb, puppyish quality that's almost a little funny. "You'll answer one at a time, or only one period?"

The fact that this, itself, is a question and could possibly count as his One doesn't seem to strike him.

Shut up, Rorschach.

"That was one already." He holds up a finger, his hands encased in purple leather. It's an unusual color, but considering he started his hunting career in the sixties, not entirely surprising.

Don't worry, Ghoul, he's just having fun with you. What else can he do since he's dead? He goes silent for a moment before his gravelly voice says one word. "Next."

"Okay!" He waves the hand away, very nearly wasting his next question on why are you purple?

That can come later. For now, he sticks with, "So why's your face all weird?"

Talking about what he considers his true face actually gets the ghost talking far more than he would normally. His sentences come slowly, and judging by their structure, he sounds like someone who's forgotten how to speak entirely right. "Got it on one of my first hunts. Witch had fae stalker. Saved her from him. She enchanted it so it would always move. Wanted a face I could stand to look at in the mirror." That's not to say Rorschach is ugly underneath there. He just has a lot of issues. Scratch that, it's Issues with a capital I.

This ghost definitely has Issues... but then again, isn't that the point of being a ghost?

He nods slowly in understanding, although he looks a little troubled. There's a brief silence, and then, "Can you..." Oh god, here it comes. He can't stop it. "Can you even see yourself in a mirror now?" Once again, Ghoul goes right for the important questions.

Rorschach's head tilts the other way curiously. Seriously? That's what he wanted to waste his time asking questions about? This kid wasn't so much a human being as a lop-eared pup in human form. It wasn't endearing in the slightest.

"Only when I manifest." Which had been harder than it seemed for the ghost. He'd gone years unable to even do that much and nearly driven himself insane trying to reconnect with the living world. If he hadn't found Hillingdon, he might have even let the Men with Sticks take him.

"Manifest? Ain't that what you're doin' right now?" Ghoul wrinkles his nose up and reaches out, poking a finger through Rorschach's chest. Ghosts are mysterious things. He's never actually gotten to speak with one, of course he wants to figure out how they work!

Lord help him if he ever mentions the Men with Sticks. That'll really blow Ghoul's mind.

"Stop that." He swats ineffectually at Ghoul's finger, of course going right through like mist in the air. Sure, he could do it all he wanted to other people, but he was dead. It was different.

"And that's five." Five questions, he means.

The useless swat only makes him laugh. He does pull his hand back eventually, though. "Five what?" Give him a second. "Oh! Yeah, so?" No fair, he didn't know there was a limit. Whatever. He'll ask more regardless, but not before being polite. Ish. "What, you wanna swap or somethin'?"

Ghoul can't really think of anything he'd be worth asking, but if Rorschach wants to play speed-dating, fine. He doesn't have much else to do right now.

Rorschach scowls at the laugh beneath the mask and it responds, the blots forming a shape clustered around roughly where his mouth is. "No. Just not used to it." Talking, he means.

Usually it's because he doesn't have anyone to talk to. No one in Hillingdon House ever asks him anything even when he does manifest. They all just sort of take him for granted by now. Just the strange ghost who's become part of the furniture.

Ghoul squints his eyes and leans in just a fraction, watching the odd blobs appear and fade on his mask. God, that's weird. Sometimes they kind of look like expressions and he's not entirely sure if that's intentional or not.

"Yeah, I can kinda tell," he says as he straightens back up. "You're an asshole sometimes." And Ghoul is such a gentle, sensitive creature...

"And you don't say much, so it seems like you're outta practice. How long've you been a ghost?"

The mask is magic. It's always done its own thing, but Rorschach had been quick to notice that it tended to change more quickly when his mood switches. It wasn't supposed to react that way, but he'd never fully asked the witch who gave it him exactly all the details of what she'd enchanted it with.

Rorschach shrugs. Ghouls was a rude little bugger, wasn't he? But he'd been far worse in life.

The question makes him pause. He has to think hard, going back through the years. "1985."

"Shit," he breathes. He'd already been dead for a good while before Ghoul was even born... Sure, some ghosts have probably been around for a hundred years or whatever, but 30-something isn't anything to dismiss.

Seems like it could be pretty cool. Aside from the dead thing, that's a bunch of years just floating wherever you want, whenever you want. Seeing all sorts of shit. Causing mischief. Ghoul thinks he could maybe be a decent ghost, if he had to.

"That, uh. That kinda sucks. But you're old enough that you can do all kinds of badass ghost shit, right?" Pfffft.

If Ghoul had mentioned his thoughts on how "cool" it was to be a ghost, Rorschach would have done his utter best to smack the dumb pup upside the head. He'd been stuck in this state for years on end. It had been the most frustrating and boring experience of his unlife.

"Not so much." He'd never had an anchor that would have allowed him to gain abilities. If he was able to use telekinesis and affect the world around him like other ghosts, you can bet he wouldn't be wandering around London like some lost spirit. He'd be back out there trying to help the hunters do what they did best.

Well, no wonder Rorschach doesn't like being a ghost. He's an ultra-lame one. He probably doesn't even use his intangible and invisible nature for shenanigans, gosh. What a waste of potential. "What do you mean not so much? Why not?"

"Ghosts need anchors. Never had one." That spoke a lot about how sad Rorschach's life had been. There was no one to turn to when he died, not family or friends that would have been some remnant of life to cling to. It also showed how socially awkward the ghost was. Thirty years after he died and he still hadn't managed to get close enough to anyone to gain tethers to the mortal world.

"What the hell?" Ghoul's face screws up in disbelief. "Then go get one." He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world... and for him, maybe it would be. He obviously has no issues when it comes to interacting with others- now, those interactions being positive is another story...

Rorschach ain't got any excuse for this nonsense. "How d'you make the anchor thing stick? You gotta do somethin' special?"

Tell me that I'll figure it out...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)