CHARLES KNOWS HE HAS A LOT TO EXPLAIN TO HIS PARTNER. That there are plenty of things he could say, that Edwin will simply wash over, already having excuse after EXCUSE on his tongue as to why what he's doing is bad. But he can't HELP it.
A part of him missed being alive SO MUCH, that even being AROUND the living set him at ease. Watching them, following them, trying to understand the NEW MUSIC, new technology, new-ness. Besides, on the occasion he finds one that can SEE him... well, it didn't hurt to befriend them. To let them in on a few secrets and gather a few of his own. Especially when they are kind and HIS AGE.
He's holding up the casette like it's a prize to be won, the grin on his face STRETCHING until he's all cheeks. He's hoping this is enough for forgiveness, for the other ghost to SMILE back at him with that look on his face that settles down DEEP in his chest.
β Cause you haven't heard this one yet, mate. β He stands, tall, chin quirking and looking at him with those BIG, doe-like brown eyes. Charles wanders over him, at his sleeves rolled up, the stance full of an anxiety he can only HOPE to quell. β Want to hear it, or are you going t'lecture me some more? β
It's Frank Sinatra. He'd practically begged to take the casette with him when he'd left, but it was handed over with a laugh and a WAVE of the hand. β Relax, we're safe here, yeah? Listen to the music? β