Lua had been dead for only about a week, her time at the hotel even shorter, and already Charlie was reintroducing her as part of the official hotel staff. Program advisor and peer support. Was she even qualified for such responsibility being a college drop-out? Absolutely not, the woman still knew nothing about Hell and been struggling to acclimate not just to the new environs but her form and powers. However, wasn't everyone else just as underqualified if not more? Until an actual expert showed interest in the position, the job would continue to be hers.

A couple of the residents weren't happy with the fact, mainly Vaggie. Not after witnessing how the fresh-faced, long rabbit-eared sinner lashed out at Charlie in response to a poorly executed plan. Even so, an apology was accepted and a contract was written. Although without an office, Lua immediately got to work after setting up in the lounge with paper and pencil. The radio provided good background noise as she wrote while muttering her thoughts to air. A few hours later, she could feel a headache coming on. The sound of static in her ears grew too loud, the problem with having a seemingly permanent thundercloud affixed to her head. Perhaps eating something can help clear things.

In the kitchen, she spots Alastor cooking. While not always a social creature, she will at least greet politely and converse, "Afternoon. Is that just for yourself or are you on chef duty?"

'This brat sounds annoying' was the first thing Lua thought upon hearing Able's voice. Regardless of her disappointment, she spoke with a somewhat cold politeness. No need to be rude outright. The real question was could she trust him? Just in case, she'll try to keep it vague.

In front of her door, blocking the way, is a lurking shadow with bright red eyes glowing in the darkness, watching her.

“Lua….. come closer….” Ominous.

Nope, nope, nopity-nope!

"No-thank-you-I'd-rather-not," Lua announces so fast the words ran into each other.

Obsidian eyes lock onto a specific object: a lonesome dying tree. As soon as her hand raises up, imagining the path her lightning will take to it, all that built-up static shoots along the route set in her mind. It happens so quickly, it genuinely astounded her that it even worked, her color shifting to black with surprised delight. Before she could celebrate, the dry bark ignites thanks to the heat given off from the blast.

Although panicking for a solid minute, she forces herself to be calm, her color shifting back to white. This is why it’s always smart to have contingencies. Grabbing a pre-prepared bucket of water, she douses the fire. Crisis everted. Although, it did spark a thought. What if she used the same principles, but on water? She’s made clouds before subconsciously, in fact there’s always one covering the hair on her head. Theoretically, she could control it. Did the water vapors need to come from her body like the electricity, though? Or…? 

The conditions of the air in Hell might not be consistent, but there was still moisture. Sometimes. Looking at her hands, she focuses on an image formed in her mind. For a moment, nothing seemed to be happening, making her feel a little silly, until a ghostly cloud of mist appeared. However, watching it come together in real time ended up breaking her concentration, and the mist dispersed. Interesting, but no less annoying. Why is it that when she’s not paying attention at all, these powers work near flawlessly, but the second she makes the attempt to utilize them actively, it takes far more effort and focus? This is going to take longer than she expected.

There. An outlet for plausible deniablity if he was incorrect.

"yup," the succinct confirmation comes out quiet and tired, sinking deeper into the cushions. The subtle stench of the living realm underneath the scent of ozone was a dead giveaway for how recently a soul departed from their mortal shell. New to the hotel and new to being dead. Lua will admit though - it's not that much different from being alive so far. The powers she had would be cool... if she knew how to use them. Oh, right, the question.

She shrugs her shoulders noncommittally, "Fine... bed's better than a bench."

Nailed it.