#hisisolation

     ❝ what’re you getting at, aye? of course it’s real life. would you be able to feel me pinch,❞ he did as said. ❝you if it wasn’t?❞

          “  spirits are assholes, landon.  “       a clack of glass against metal punctuates the sentence as he slides a display bottle into place, scrutinizing it for a moment before shifting it half an inch to the left. grunting, he steps down from the stepstool, turning to face the young man.            “  not just this one, all of them. universally. if they were good they’d’ve moved on.  “       he’s not lucky enough to be a medium, doesn’t have to deal with ghosts tailing him night and day, wailing for attention. instead, he gets to deal with demons, which come a whole host of different problems, but he imagines the annoyance is similar. he leans against the counter, favoring his good leg as he crosses his arms.            “  the offer still stands. bit of cash and i can study into the issue, see if there’s something to lessen your sight. or you can just buy a lot of fuckin’ satchels to try and keep ‘em at bay.  “       a shrug, a wan smile.            “  either way, no guarantees.  “