I'm sorry, my modern manners are getting on Rose's nerves. John, this is Rose Marshall. [ The thing about the Prices collecting extended family members from across the supernatural spectrum is that the only time you can trust anyone's relative ages to probably be in the realm of normal are siblings. ] She'll be dropping in on the safehouse to check in. She's a hitchhiking ghost.
[ Rose smirks over her malted milkshake, amused by the sight of a man she'd normally judge to be a routewitch with her largely upstanding young nephew. Unlike him, she's all too familiar with the kinds of assumptions people make about her. And poking fun at his discomfort about those assumptions is one of the few power trips a dead teenage octegenarian gets to have. That, and the dents in the family credit cards. ]
I think on this stretch of highway, I'm still the Phantom Prom Date. [ She somehow manages to sound both like a teenager annoyed by a nickname, and an old woman happy to be remembered, even by the kids these days. Even if it's as the ghost story they share at slumber parties. ] I'll drop in there time to time, especially if the local ghosts say something is up. And I won't lie, it might come in handy to know it's here if I need it. The fries are good enough to haunt a place every so often, anyway.
[ Places that cut the potatoes themselves instead of the frozen and shipped kind are fewer and far between. Maybe she can get them some dedicated traffic to keep that up. The loopholes a hitchhiking ghost uses to negotiate their temporary time among the living have their limits, food is only worth going near if it's freely given. Compared to vampires and other nastier things, merely mooching off the living is one of the easier (and more easily tolerated) ways to go about it. ]
And the dive bar down the road is shady enough I'll probably be able to actually get a drink. And, y'know, tip you off if I see anything you might care about. So, cults, serial killers, clutches of endangered turtles.
[ Alex would feign a wounded look, if he wouldn't actually appreciate being told about exotic animal smuggling. ]
no subject
[ Rose smirks over her malted milkshake, amused by the sight of a man she'd normally judge to be a routewitch with her largely upstanding young nephew. Unlike him, she's all too familiar with the kinds of assumptions people make about her. And poking fun at his discomfort about those assumptions is one of the few power trips a dead teenage octegenarian gets to have. That, and the dents in the family credit cards. ]
I think on this stretch of highway, I'm still the Phantom Prom Date. [ She somehow manages to sound both like a teenager annoyed by a nickname, and an old woman happy to be remembered, even by the kids these days. Even if it's as the ghost story they share at slumber parties. ] I'll drop in there time to time, especially if the local ghosts say something is up. And I won't lie, it might come in handy to know it's here if I need it. The fries are good enough to haunt a place every so often, anyway.
[ Places that cut the potatoes themselves instead of the frozen and shipped kind are fewer and far between. Maybe she can get them some dedicated traffic to keep that up. The loopholes a hitchhiking ghost uses to negotiate their temporary time among the living have their limits, food is only worth going near if it's freely given. Compared to vampires and other nastier things, merely mooching off the living is one of the easier (and more easily tolerated) ways to go about it. ]
And the dive bar down the road is shady enough I'll probably be able to actually get a drink. And, y'know, tip you off if I see anything you might care about. So, cults, serial killers, clutches of endangered turtles.
[ Alex would feign a wounded look, if he wouldn't actually appreciate being told about exotic animal smuggling. ]