As far as Emerson was concerned, those who had crossed the veil from life into death were nothing but a thorn in his side. If he had it his way, he’d have long ago stripped himself of his supposed “gift”. The lost souls weren’t the worst of it – he’d long ago learned how to tune out their whispers, their ghostly touch. It was the angry ones, the ones tied to places, to people, those that had died a gruesome death and wished to seek vengeance that were the worst.
Emerson freaking hated Poltergeists.
This latest one had been a right pain in the ass to deal with. Emerson had endured hours of pinched sides, phantom biting and lastly, a push to his back that had sent him careening into a nearby wall, bloodying his nose.
At this point, he was starting to rethink his position at the DSI.
Now he was on his way back to his apartment, ice pack held firmly to his nose, in no mood to entertain another “case” – and yet, standing there outside his apartment, dutifully labeled King’s Paranormal Investigation Services with a crooked plaque, was, no doubt, another client.
Emerson pulled the ice pack away from his nose. “Don’t ask,” he grunted, before sighing as he thumbed through his keys. “What do you need?” he asked, manners be damned – he was in a mood. “And can it wait until tomorrow?” Or, at least, until he’d downed four Advil – minimum.
JoJo was leaning against the door waiting for the other to arrive when she looked at her watch. “You’re late.” She offered, though there was no anger or animosity behind the words. “Or did you forget about me.” The blonde questioned lightly before opening the door for the other. “And no, it can’t wait until tomorrow. You know you have to catch me up on everything going on darling.”
She looked the other up and down. “Though maybe we should fix all that’s going on here.” JoJo motioned up and down on the other.
