Old as balls...

“No! It’s a horrible idea! We barely get along at is it. Tolerable, t’e word I said was tolerable!" What part of throwing together supernatural beings in one place seemed okay? And clearly, they’d have to live like they were in some jolly commune. "It won’t work. I’m holding out for my wife and kid—" Save another one or two persons, but to have a small scale city? No way—

"Here's the thing you perhaps don't understand," He holds up a hand swiftly, "No, I don't mean it as an insult before you go and get pissy again. Those of us that are older, we grew tired of all this centuries ago. Most of you are what? One hundred, two hundred years at the oldest? You've seen the turmoil of the twentieth century, yes, but we've seen famine and plagues the likes of which you can't begin to imagine." Nik nods slowly now, emphasizing each word. "Some of us want peace, John, and we're willing to work for it."

Honestly, the fact that he can see her at all is a shock, extreme enough to cause a rapid amount of blinking as she takes in his question. “—What?” Staring at him incredulously for a long moment, she shakes herself out of her stupor as quickly as possible and clears her throat. Right. Well. Now she had questions. And despite wanting to ask them, she feels compelled to answer his first, for the sake of being polite, at least. “—It’s a … a few blocks down. Take a right, should take you right there, they’ve got — great … tea.” 

"Sorry, didn't mean to er-, startle you," He grins sheepishly, genuinely meaning it. It was clear she didn't exactly congregate with others like her, judging by the reaction. It was lonely enough being what he was, Nik could barely imagine what it was like to be a ghost. "Couple blocks and a right, got it. I'm not exactly overfond of tea, but if you say it's that great I'll have to give it a try." 

"Like a bunch of smurfs—" The idea itself was flawed. Even if they got along, the community would evidentially rip each other apart. “It’s not going to work. You know it can’t work. When one person falls out, t’e entire thing will crumble. One bad egg, and you know t’e rest.”

"I don't even know what that is, but I know that tone," Nik sighs, running a hand through his hair before becoming a bit more excitable, his placid demeanor shifting towards passion. "It's a gamble, I know, and there's no small amount of things to figure out to in order to make this work, but I would rather at least risk something with great reward than to never attempt at all. Wouldn't you?"

"Maybe— I like to pretend to not take advantage of it. You never know…" He was always prepared for his own demise. He knew it was coming, Mitchell had merely avoided it on countless occasions. "So, how is my tolerance going to help whatever scheme you’ve got?”

Someone certainly wasn't an optimist, though Nik granted him begrudging respect for it. After all, too many of their kind desperately worked to pretend they were normal, that they had maintained some shred of their former life, and only found themselves ruined. "Scheme makes it sound as though I'm plotting, I'm proposing solutions. I have land, real estate-, a few whole towns truth be told. John, imagine a place where we all could live in peace..."

"To an extent— Sure." Aside that Isabelle’s pack was a nightmare and he put up with the necromancer because he was his wife’s best friend and all— Not to mention the banshee had issues on her own and Garrett was an overall ass to be around all the time… Getting along was one way of putting it. "Tolerating, mostly. Get on wit’ it.”

"Last time I checked, both of us have a quite a bit of time on our hands, relax." Jesus, where all the ones his age so god damn jumpy? Nik could move at a fast enough pace when he wished to, but found he much preferred to work at a speed decidedly slower than the one most people favored. "Even if you all can barely stand each other, I don't care. You've managed to tolerate each other and go without snapping each other's necks. There's promise in that, for all of us."

"Backhanded as fuck, but if t’at’s what you think a compliment is…" Mysterious, bullshit wording. Get to the point. "No— Enough crap already. Outlier, special— I’m not going to have some sit down meal wit’ you. Tell me now or sod off for good. I’m done wit’ games." His entire life, he’d been a pawn in a greater chess match. Mitchell was over it.

He sighs heavily, coming to a halt and crossing his arms over his chest. "Patience is a virtue, but fine. I suppose if I were in your shoes," Nik glances down, working hard not to flinch at the sorry sight of them, "I would wish for answers. My answer is this; you and your merry little company manage to get along. You all can tolerate each other without spilling an ounce of blood. Do you know how rare that is? It's unheard of."

“Men don’t fear swords. They fear monsters.”