Poltergeist

For a fleeting moment, Kamilla wondered if she was getting old. Her father used to get annoyed whenever the children and teenagers a few blocks away from their area flocked to the park near their house almost every afternoon, bringing noise and liveliness that was usually absent from the posh and quiet neighborhood. And now, at twenty-five years old, the woman was experiencing the same annoyance that her father did, though for a completely different reason. 

How was it that people weren't easy to take advantage of when the minimum requirement intellectually was spelling one's own name, but now, they would practically hand a stranger whatever their heart desired on a whim? This would mark the second time something of the sort would happen to Victor in the past week, he'd realized. First with the chipper little girl in the hardware store. Then, with the coffee spiller. He couldn't wrap his head around why people were being so generous. He'd be a fool to pass it up, but he'd be unwise not to weigh the costs of it all.

Halloween’s on Friday. Thursday comes before that. We don’t give out indulgences anymore. Otherwise, I could have gotten you a ‘get out of purgatory’ card a day in advance. You know, Vatican II didn’t actually get rid of it. People think it did. But I’m sure you know that. You seem worldly. [Father Michael’s brow shoots up, and he regards the man with an unwavering simplicity, not necessarily challenging but with the intent of matching him word for word. The last remark actually manages to pull a wry sort of smile from him.] That sensation could be hell fire. It’s invisible. There’s no light down there. So I imagine you wouldn’t be able to see it just walking around. 

"I tuned out every word before and after indulgences, sorry. I hope you don't talk that much in bed." Victor finally looked down and saw a still lit-cigarette lying before him. He snubbed it out with the ball of his foot and let his features cave in as he saw the smile forming on the other male's face. Things were getting more interesting by the second. "Is that so? How do you know it's hell fire? Have you ever felt the heat down there? Immersed yourself in it?"

Well, Halloween is this week. There will be plenty of flesh to feast your eyes on. Confession is on Thursday nights. [Father Michael raises his eyebrow, his stance mostly unwavering as the man steps forward. The streetlight catches his eye a moment, but they dart back to Victor’s face.] And we have pamphlets on that subject in the narthex. I’ll say a prayer for you tonight. God knows your face. 

"Oh? I can honestly say I've never...feasted my eyes on any flesh during confession. What a pleasant offer," he retorted sharply, eyes unwavering. He hadn't spit-balled like this in what felt like ages. "No need, Father. This ass is already blessed. Thank you for the consideration."

[He clears his throat because he’s not entirely sure what one says to a comment like that. A hand finds its way up to run through his hair, and he takes a moment to compose himself before looking back into Victor’s face.] Well, I’m afraid the nuns have the market on that sort of thing. I only do guilt trips and stern looks. [He gives a short nod, and he does manage to sound joking even if he thinks he probably shouldn’t have played into the whole thing.] Everyone needs someone to think about them from time to time. You have half my name. Do I get any of yours? 

Eyebrows peaked quickly in intrigue and he feigned a disappointed sigh. Was he really making the man uncomfortable? "That just sucks the fun right out of getting in trouble then." Victor took a step forward. The light from the street-post flickered a bit, an unintentional act of course, but it made the motion all the more sweet. "I'm sure you'll think of something to call me during your cold shower later. Make sure to tug a little slower today though. Slow and steady wins the race."

Well, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by “naughty preacher boy,” but I don’t think I have that sort of vibe. [Father Michael clears his throat, perhaps uncomfortably. But a terse smile returns to his face a moment later, and the effort he makes to remain pleasant is at the very least visible.] Should I be concerned with you standing out here if lives are in danger, sir? 

Victor let out a pretty hefty laugh for a few moments before drawing in a deep breath. "Oh come on. You've got the big blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and stern voice. In a different place at a different time, I might have asked you to spank me," he replied, almost entirely in jest. He figured he should get as much out of this as he could, seeing as how he'd be back to a night of boredom once they'd parted ways. "You can be as concerned as you wanna be. I'm just delighted to be in your thoughts, Father. Ooh, saying that makes me warm inside."

At his easy response, Elijah grinned broadly. She could tell she was chipping away at him a bit, since he offered up such personal information, and she couldn’t say she was quite surprised. Not necessarily because Victor stood out in anyway to her as gay, but rather because it seemed every other friend or acquaintance of hers - including herself - was queer in one form or another. 

Victor thoroughly enjoyed the term heartbreaker. Something about it made him seem much more important than he was. "Stick around, kid. I might just teach you how it's done," he teased, paying close attention to the way she worded her sentence. Seattle could change it's title to the city of diversity and they wouldn't be wrong in any sense of the term. Then again, what good would 'home' be if everyone was exactly the same. Carbon-copied, fleshy little humans with their perfect, heteronormative values.

"Oh, that’s awful. At this rate, our houses and apartments are going to fall apart," she quipped, shaking her head. If he had turned out to be as surly as she initially thought he was, she wouldn’t have cared. There were people like that everywhere; she found it easier just to avoid them, and instead talk to the ones that would actually respond. But he was actually laughing—maybe she hadn’t been imagining that smile after all.

Yuna. Her name was short, hard to forget once he'd mulled over it for a moment in his head. He wouldn't have to put too much effort into remembering it. Not that that specific factor mattered anymore. Victor could remember the color of the shirt his father wore on his first day of kindergarten. Death gave too much time to let any detail slip by.

You’re quite the Good Samaritan. But please don’t worry on my behalf. My clerical clothing offers me more protection than you’d think. I’m worth more points on your rap sheet. [He raises his eyebrows.] An elderly woman in my parish lives in this area. She can’t make it to church, so it’s my duty to bring it to her. 

"Eh," Victor mused. His shoulders were thrown up and fell down as anticlimatically as the long drag he took from his cigarette. "You've got the kind of naughty preacher boy thing going for you, but hey; I'm not going to stop you if you want to put your life in danger. Say hello to grandma for me."

""Victor," Elijah tried the name out, nodding when she deemed it very appropriate. "I like the name, I think it suits you, really. Sounds mysterious, like yeah he’s tart out the outside but who is he really on the inside?" She laughed, obviously humored enough for the both of them at her description of the man. "I’m sure the ladies fall over for that - the while dark romance novel character," She teased, so enthralled by her own chatter that she hadn’t realized Victor had stopped, and bumping in to his back.

A small action did little to persuade his attention, and the miniature crash did absolutely nothing. Victor didn't move, not suffering even the tiniest inconvenience by the moment of contact. "Uh yeah," he began, eyes still darting from the paper to the wall before them. "Except I'm more of a gay erotica kind of guy. I like to stay true to myself." He turned his face to see Elijah not too far from his face. He shrugged the notion off quickly, however, and as he went back to his original position, he couldn't help but crack a brief smile

Rome stops short, startled. He turns halfway, eyes narrowing as he cranes his neck in search of the source of the voice. When his eyes land on a man standing a few feet away, casually smoking a cigarette, he turns fully and crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Thanks for the concern.” He notes dryly, lips pulled thin. “But, I think I can handle it.”

A huff of breath escaped Victor's lips as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Sorry; I wasn't aware I was looking at Mr. I Got This," he replied softly. He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew smoke out through the bottom of his mouth and inhaled it through his nose again. "Quick, unrelated question...is there going to be a caterer at your funeral?"

Sonny. He would’ve rolled his eyes if they hadn’t been looking haphazardly at the ones staring right back at him. As the man turned away, surely prime to make a complete fool out of him, regret washed over Lionel’s features. He cast his eyes towards the ceiling, shaking his head subtly back & forth. He should’ve walked away from the start. Let the guy get his dig in & kept his mouth shut. But here he was, in the middle of rundown hardware store about to be scolded like a child for being so ignorant.

Things moved quicker than Victor would have wanted. One moment, he was mercilessly teasing a rather bold compatriot, the next, the clinking of the object hitting the floor was ringing through his body. His visage flickered rampantly in the blink of an eye as he looked down at the nut, ethereal body pulsating quick enough to cause give someone a seizure. He could feel the green mist that always followed such a thing pooling in the back of his throat. Relax. Sharp noises weren't resonating the way that he'd hoped.

It might’ve been a figment of her imagination, or the light playing tricks on her, but Yuna could’ve sworn she saw a hint of a smile on the man’s face. Maybe he wasn’t as grumpy as she first thought he was. “Your secret’s safe with me,” she assured, a chime of laughter escaping her lips. “We wouldn’t want you bombarded with foolish questions like mine, though I’m sure you’d just love to help them out of the goodness of your heart. Matches right up with that sarcasm of yours.”

The thought of helping people honestly felt like someone stabbing him multiple times in the same spot. If he could avoid it altogether, his life would be much simpler, but he always found himself in compromising positions with people he didn't know. This case was different, though. The female wasn't infuriating. She was actually kind of endearing. He allowed another soft chuckle to escape him as she mentioned his heart, which he could've easily told her didn't really exist anymore in a technical sense. He decided against it though.

Ah, well, that side is usually in need of the most help. And even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil. [Father Michael glances up at him, crossing his hands in front of himself as he regards the man, clearing his throat.] Hello. 

Victor rolled his eyes quietly. "Yeah, or you could use your goddamn brain and get wherever you need to go with your body still perfectly intact by taking a detour."

Lionel let out a slow sigh as he turned back toward the only other body in the aisle. His eyes following slowly after his head as if he were giving up the lifeline that was the cash register at the end of the narrow aisle. “Nothing’s labeled,” came his weak excuse.

It was so difficult for Victor not to let any sign of jovialness to shatter his currently smug and off-putting countenance. The man before him was more eclectic than he'd originally perceived and there was something undeniably nostalgic about it. "Alright, sonny," he replied complacently, eyes finally returning up to meet the gaze of the man he'd engaged in conversation with. The sarcasm he was receiving wasn't unwarranted, but that didn't mean he'd sit by and let it go unnoticed.