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

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?"

Rorschach's mask turns into jagged parallel lines that go straight down his face. The patterns, one can eventually notice, aren't entirely random. They do form similar patterns during the same emotional state over and over again. Right now, he's bristling with anger like a grouchy alley cat. He abruptly disappears. Don't worry, Ghoul, he hasn't gone far. He reappears right behind the werewolf, growling out three words in his ear. "Don't. Like. People."

It's as simple as that as to why Rorschach doesn't have an anchor. He's seen the worst of humanity and has no desire to interact with that scummy underbelly. In response to Ghoul's question, he shrugs. "Dunno. Got to get along with someone. See them a lot. Be friends?" This last is asked as a question because he really doesn't know what makes for a good anchor.

Him and his weird mask. Ghoul wonders if he'll need to make some kind of visual cheat sheet one day.

He looks puzzled once Rorschach vanishes, and he glances around- not behind himself though, of course, which means he jumps at the unexpected voice in his ear. With a huff, he spins around to face him, crossing his arms. "Dude, I know you're dead and all, but shit. Don't be a downer." Ghoul's not even an aggressively optimistic guy, but Rorschach is just something else. There's got to be some type of person that he likes well enough to anchor to. Somewhere.

"What kinda people can you tolerate bein' around?"

Rorschach is definitely one of a kind, living or dead. He's been dead almost as long as he was alive, so he had some perspective on why he was still around. He's been anti-social for so long and it hadn't helped him move on or find closure at all. Maybe this half-baked kid has a point.

That actually gets Rorschach thinking. Who does he like to be around? He's only ever had one real friend in his life. Well, he'd always had the Watchmen around, even when they didn't want him around. It makes the first part of the answer obvious. "Hunters. People who can see me. And children." Sorry, Ghoul, it's a very short list. Be glad he managed to come up with three on his own.

Ghoul looks unsure, but that's... better than nothing? Probably?

It's a start, he supposes. "Okay, look," he begins, squaring himself up because he has an idea. "Here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna find like three new people to talk to in the next few weeks." He reaches out, poking his index finger at Rorschach's chest as if that'll spur him in to obeying. Of course, his finger goes though his chest every time, but that's not the point. "I wanna have badass ghost contacts for entirely selfish reasons, and I can't do that if all I know is a wimpy one who can't even go solid or move stuff."

Pep talk of the year! He smirks in a way that suggests he's maybe joking just a little, and pulls his arm away before adding, "It'll be fun. You gotta be bored as shit by yourself all the time." Fuck's sake, one of his likes is people who can see him. That's pretty desperate.

Rorschach swats ineffectively at Ghoul's finger as he listens to the kid blather on. Seriously, that is getting annoying. "One person." He's not completely discounting the idea, but let's not get too ambitious here. It took him about twenty-five years to even manifest. He's not about to become a social butterfly in a few short weeks.

Oh, it's annoying for sure. And he loves that. Ghoul thinks of it as a type of motivation- he'll continue to annoy the life out of him (haha) until he can anchor enough to do something about it. Because that's how progress works, right?

For now, though, he's stopped poking at him. Instead, he narrows his eyes a bit, scrutinizing Rorschach briefly. Negotiations, huh. He can handle those. "Fine, one person. Anybody you want, but you gotta say more than ten words. That fair?"

"Fair enough." One person. Right. He can do this. Maybe. Hillingdon House always has people going in and out of it. There's always someone new wandering through. He's sure he can find someone that he can start a conversation with.

That seems to be the end of that. But there's one thing Rorschach still wants to know. "What's your name?" He wants to know so that he can find the werewolf again later on. He doesn't have that many people who can see him on a regular basis. He wants to be able to keep track of them.

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

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