don't start with me

“Okay, so we’re restoring houses now, right?” Tyler glanced around, realising how small the volunteer groups were. He felt a little better about participating now. “Guess I’m doing the heavy lifting, huh?”

One look at him, and Suze decided that watching him do some heavy lifting would be considerably appealing. But of course she wouldn't voice that, sticking her chin out in typical defiance instead. She was still fairly new in town, and wouldn’t let anybody step over her until she figured out where she fit in. “Why’s that? ‘Cause you’re a 'big, strong man'?”

“I’m sure there is, there’s a lot that needs doing around here. But sorry, I wouldn’t be the best person to ask. You’d want Caroline, she’s pretty, blonde, very bossy — no doubt you’ll see her running around here soon enough. She's in charge of all the assignments.”

Suze nodded sympathetically, knowing she wouldn’t budge on the matter unless there was an emergency. Renovations or not, the houses still had old structures. She wasn’t a bitch or anything, despite what half the disgruntled dead population seemed to think, she just wouldn’t go in a place like that willingly. “Fingers crossed! Any chance I could be of help in another way?”

“I actually feel good today. Which is rare, but I’m gonna’ go with it.” Elena nodded, as if she were reassuring herself. “I’m gonna’ volunteer to clean up one of the old houses, do you wanna’ join me?” It looked like the renovation team needed all the help they could get.

Old house? Suze swallowed. There was no way in hell she was stepping foot in one of those if she could help it. “Um.. sorry, no. I’m gonna have to pass, actually.” She gave the woman an apologetic smile. “I just.. have a thing about old houses. They really give me the creeps.” Untrue, but Suze was hardly going to explain to a stranger that she could see the dead, clear as day, and that those dead usually clung to old houses. There were already enough ghosts hanging around, even one in her very bedroom — she didn’t need to track down any more.

Pansy winced when James wailed, wondering what'd caused the sudden outburst. Suze certainly seemed nice enough, so Pansy's eyes narrowed in contemplation, wondering if he'd sensed something off about her. The non-human remained polite in spite of it, dismissing the apology she was offered, but her guard still made it's way back up in defence of them both.

Lost in the emotion of the moment, following along with the words in her own head, Suze didn't realise she'd fucked up until the woman questioned her. Startled, she blinked, gaze returning to the caretaker. "Oh - nothing. Just something I had stuck in my head," she shook her head, dismissing the idea. It was a natural reflex after years of being called crazy. She hadn't been asked to meddle in this particular dynamic, either. Things obviously seemed cohesive enough.

Lydia huffed in frustration as a response to the questions, but the emotion wasn't directed at Suze. She was annoyed with herself. She had no answers, and no immediate way of finding them, either. All she had was this terrible sinking feeling, which was utterly useless. "I don't know... I barely even remember. I was out of it." The grief had certainly stuck with her, though, along with the visual of Jackson's life passing through her. It still burned, and the wave of fear she felt this very second was only amplified by that prior experience. "I have no idea. I don't know what they mean, I don't know exactly what they're trying to tell me. They're just voices."

"Okay," Suze chewed on her lip in thought, sensing they didn't have a lot of time to work with. This was very new territory for her, considering she exclusively worked with those who'd already passed over. Saving someone from that fate was a whole different ball game. "Maybe try and focus on what you do remember? I know it'll suck, but maybe it can help us. So, you can't talk back to them, right? You can't ask questions? I guess it means.. you just have to listen."

Simon had been attempting to find a book about his abilities, wondering if he'd be able to cloak more than just himself; or more simply, searching for reassurance that he wasn't alone. There were a multitude of rebels with gifts, he knew that, but none of them could turn invisible. His power was a reflection of his own isolation, but it only proved to worsen that fact. It had also become a habit, disguising himself in public to avoid interaction. He'd trapped himself in a cycle, but he didn't want to do it anymore. He wanted to be better at socialising, to have the confidence to speak with everyone the way he did with Emily and Pietro. He wanted the confidence to ask Isabelle out.