Fukawa's face warps to something pained as Lottie babbles on. The description is about as useful as screen door on a submarine. She grimaces, and wonders to herself whether being in the literal underworld nixes the existence of ghosts. They're ghosts, just much fleshier and mortal than anyone expected. Could some of them become incorporeal again? Just by virtue of passing time, or perhaps failing to find a soulmate?
Either that, or the girl is losing her mind.]
Lottie, there's no one here. [It's said firmly. She's got her gaze held straight on, a confidence rare to see from a girl so often lost to glowers and mutterings.] You w-were alone when I walked over here. And you can't hide a whole person with just hair.
[Come on. Shadows could only do so much.]
You m-must have imagined it. How much have you had to drink, anyway?
no subject
[Oh. Oh no. She's seen this trope before.
Fukawa's face warps to something pained as Lottie babbles on. The description is about as useful as screen door on a submarine. She grimaces, and wonders to herself whether being in the literal underworld nixes the existence of ghosts. They're ghosts, just much fleshier and mortal than anyone expected. Could some of them become incorporeal again? Just by virtue of passing time, or perhaps failing to find a soulmate?
Either that, or the girl is losing her mind.]
Lottie, there's no one here. [It's said firmly. She's got her gaze held straight on, a confidence rare to see from a girl so often lost to glowers and mutterings.] You w-were alone when I walked over here. And you can't hide a whole person with just hair.
[Come on. Shadows could only do so much.]
You m-must have imagined it. How much have you had to drink, anyway?