Logs:Shrimp with a Side of Ghost
Shrimp with a Side of Ghost
|Characters:||James and Rafael (ST: Essie)|
|Summary:||James' work seems to follow her everywhere her and Rafael run into an unexpectedly chatty ghost. And not the shrimp they were looking for!|
Among all the trendy new restaurants in the Arts District, Harrison's Family Seafood has managed to hang out for at least a couple generations, despite the rising rents and the whole closure for a family emergency several months back... but that's old business. New business is getting more business! Including lots of groupons and other incentives to try and lure people out for their New and Improved Happy Hour Specials. Sadly for the restaurant... it doesn't look like many people got the memo as tonight it looks almost deserted inside, except for a few tables full of some stubborn regulars that look like they've been coming around for the past three decades and one VERY bored hostess at the entrance scrolling through her phone with a yawn.
James Labat wears black. A pair of skinny leather pants that probably took a while to shimmy into cover all of her leg ink, and a long-sleeve top, with black lace sleeves, makes a pass at covering a good deal of her arms and torso ink, while very nearly approaching suitable for public dining. Is the top cropped a bit high and also approaching corset fit? Yes, but. It's summer in New Orleans. Her long hair is down, pulled to one side and straight, a pair of black-framed glasses perched on her nose. Nobody here much looks like they'll care about a little ink showing anyway. "Where'd you hear about this place?"
A bit of a contrast can be found in Rafael, who's wearing-- well, a suit, because it seems that's what he usually wears. To his credit, however, he has either purchased an iron, went to a full-service laundry, or he's purchased an entirely new suit for their date, since it doesn't look like it's been living on his bedroom floor for once. All black, grey, and white, tie even properly done up.
"Honestly, the first four places I checked out were full up on reservations," he admits a bit ruefully, "But a friend've mine said this place was pretty good. Never judge a restaurant by the number of people in it, some places are just lousy at marketing."
He steps up through the entrance, offering, "Table for two, had a reservation under Castillo but it doesn't look like it matters much tonight."
The high schooler manning the desk straightens up as Rafael starts talking, hastily shoving her phone under a stack of menus as she grabs two. Behind her seems to be the normal amount of local business wall of fame: pictures of famous guests, some little league sports teams they've probably sponsored, and a few photos of a girl probably a few years older than the hostest with that bears a fairly striking family resemblance but it IS Harrison Family Seafood after all. The girl certainly doesn't seem concerned with any ink James might be showing as she grabs a couple menus that aren't busy hiding her phone. "Uhhh, yeah. Right this way. Were you wanting inside or the patio?"
"People very rarely die from food poisoning," she replies, ever cheerful about imparting death factoids. Does James say this as they walk up to the hostess desk? Yes, she does. At least she says it quietly and for Rafael's ears only. Whether it is, in fact, heard by only him has yet to be seen.
"I'll take your friend's word for it. We live in a city known for its seafood, and I, for one, am willing to eat my weight in crawfish linguine to test the chef." She glances over and takes in the lines of his suit one more time, having yet to remark on how crisp the lines are. Perhaps she's going for tact this evening. It //is// a date and all. "The place least likely to crest 75 degrees would be great."
"I don't think I can get food poisoning," Rafael murmurs back with a hint of amusement to that cheery little factoid.
One hand motions a bit to James' request for the least hot place to sit in the restaurant for this particular and terrible summer. "To be fair, that can't be too much crawfish linguine," je quips, because it's date etiquette to downplay someone's weight, as far as he's aware.
Did the hostest hear James' Morbid Minute? Maybe, or maybe she had another reason for turning a bit pale as they walk up, but the seating preference gets a nod. "Right... we got a corner where my aunt says the AC seems to be in overdrive lately. Right over here..." She starts leading them through the restaurant, well away from what few tables had folks already seated at them and closer to the kitchen. Despite the proximity to what should be the hottest spot in the place, it does seem at least relatively cool as she sets the menus on the table and fills up two water glasses. "I'll go find the Abe." Presumably he's the server.
"You try to carry me up a flight of stairs, you might change your mind about that," James says to Rafael, glancing back to their hostess just as the says that thing about the AC being in overdrive. "Perfect." Which, of course, is how things start going downhill most of the time. "This... table. Ok. Thank you." No, this doesn't seem like it'd be the coolest table in the joint, but James nods, glances over to Rafael, and moves to sit. "So far so good."
"Thanks." A quick smile to the server, and Rafael's easing into the chair across from James; leaning forward a bit, an arm resting on the table's edge as he admits, "Should've realized weekend reservations were a terrible plan without getting them a week or two in advance. My fault. Hopefully the food makes up for it."
Whatever is cooking in the kitchen sure smells tasty, but the server is currently MIA. Maybe he's just giving them time to peruse the menu before coming over for orders? He surely isn't at any of the other tables that can be spotted.
James is just reaching for her water and saying, "Why everyone descends on this city at the height of summer, I will never know," when the wave of delicious kitchen smells become obvious. Her tummy gurgles. She glances around briefly, then lifts the glass to her lips to take a sip. "I mainly came here for the company, but I did skip lunch, so you'll have to forgive my voracious appetite as soon as breadsticks or something, anything hits this table." She sits back, glass in hand, crossing her legs. "How's business? Any further complications with the... casino, was it?"
Rafael reaches over for his own water glass, a smile tugging at his lips as she says she came here for the company rather than the restaurant. "I can't turn down a basket of fresh carbs myself," he admits with a chuckle, taking a sip of the water, "And-- we're working that out. A bunch of the 'others' dropped out so I think we're bringing in the Fixers..."
Of course the server does arrive at one of the more awkward times, right as Rafael begins talking about 'others' and 'fixers', the young man appears bearing what's probably as close as the restaurant can get to Cheddar Bay Biscuits (TM) without risking being sued by The Lobster. "Hey... y'all been here before?" There's a bit of a suspicious glance as if trying to place if he HAS seen them before. "Can I get you anything to get started?"
This is the second time she's heard about the Fixers, mystery that they are. James' brows go up a little. "Nope, never been here before." She's saying that as she reaching into the basket for a biscuit. She's not proud! "The closest thing you have to coconut shrimp, and cajun crawfish linguine in a cream based sauce. If you don't have that, just add some cajun to an alfredo and make me a happy woman." She didn't even look at a menu. She waits until the waiter leaves to put food in her mouth.
"I haven't either," admits Rafael cheerfully, "I'll have the seafood gumbo, and-- hell, I'll get the coconut shrimp myself. And keep those rolls coming, that's for sure. To drink, ah..." A glance across the table thougthfully to James, then back to the waiter, "I'll have a beer, too, a bock if you've got it?"
"A'ight...." After jotting down those orders on his notepad, the kid is off and they're left to the relative privacy of a mostly empty restaurant and a super-sized basket of cheesy biscuits. At least the restaurant seems mostly empty. There's certainly nobody in the tables near them although James might be able to hear a faint and persistent tapping that sounds like somebody messing with a phone screen followed eventually by an exasperated siiiiiiigh.
James tips her head slightly and rolls her shoulder. She tucks a couple of small ripped piece of biscuit into her mouth, and glances around while she chews. "The Fixers are... what? Private security and handymen?" Wait, she leans back in her chair and calls, "Red wine!" That's probably far too late, but if she's going to listen to someone swipe Tinder with long nails all night, she's gonna need some booze. She stops short of putting the biscuit basket in her lap, but the look in her eyes suggests she's seriously considering it. "I'm interviewing for another mortician. If we get three, the back office can be refitted into a third viewing parlor, which is what it was before the fire."
"Oh, no..." Rafael sets the glass of water aside and reaches for a cheesy biscuit, chuckling, "They're-- well." His voice kept pitched low, and the sound of the air conditioning running probably helps obscure it a bit too. "Some wolves, some Lost. I think they have a vampire. Basically they're a bunch of supernaturals that live in a shitty house and fill pinatas with pizza rolls, but they're a good enough bunch." He takes a bite of the biscuit, leaning back in his seat, "A third mortician? That'll definitely be a load off your back, if it works out."
There's a wave of the server's hand before he disappears into the kitchen that could either be a sign he heard James' last minute addition or maybe he's just trying to wave off a fly someone let in when going out to the patio. The hostest is busy making the rounds of the far side of the room, busy filling up water glasses. But there's still the phantom tapping as the air gets a little bit cooler around them without any noticeable sounds from the AC over head. From a table over to the left that has a chair slightly pushed out, there's a mutter that only medium ears might hear. "Bet he's gonna come back with BBQ shrimp instead of fried shrimp... just like he always does..."
"Wolves." James repeats, quietly. She takes a sip from her water glass, biscuit in her other hand. Sip of water, bite of biscuit, chewing. "Hmm." She nods. "Vampires." Where's that wine? She takes a bigger sip of her water. "Piñatas with pizza rolls." Boy, she's in a repeat every damn thing you say mood tonight, isn't she? So she's two-fisting the appetizers. The blonde's heavy-winged eyes turn to the basket of carbs again. "Mhm." She finishes that first biscuit. "Yes, one more. Just rounding out the collection so there's two of us during the day, one at night. In that case we could have someone working in back, run a service, and take consultat...ions. At the... same..." Her blue-eyed gaze strays. "Time." Either she's having an episode or she's not really paying attention to their own table at the moment.
"What kind of monster would put BBQ sauce on shrimp." You know, the only reason James said that out loud is because she doesn't have wine yet!
"I suppose I should really help you get up to snuff on all the..." A twist of Rafael's wrist, fingers fanning out to indicate the entire world, "...things that are out there in the city, at some point. And get your signature on some paperwork, while we're at it." The biscuit's brought up again, but he pauses before taking a bite of it, noticing her trailing off.
Then he blinks. "Barbecue sauce on shrimp? What?"
"It's not really BBQ sauce..." The voice starts to explain before moving closer and a certain coldness moving with it. "Wait! You can hear me? YOU CAN HEAR ME!!!" Lingering in Twilight is a faint form of the girl who had so many pictures up at the front, that looks strikingly like their hostess (just a few years older and you know... ephemeral). Abe also returns, bearing a dish that certainly isn't coconut shrimp, but more like some spicy butter mix on the sauted shrimp. But he does also have the beer and red wine, so two out of three might not be too bad. "Here you go..."
James' gaze comes back to Rafael at the bit about her signature. "Yeah, my specialty is more death, the dead, dying, burials, things that rise from ... well not vampires. What exactly //is// the process for tha--never mind. Later. Forget I said BBQ sauce. I'm just really hungry." She takes another biscuit. "Out of curiosity, is the vampire thing about crosses at all true?" She glances briefly to the side, flicks a look back to Rafael, one, two, three seconds pass and she closes her eyes. //Ghost busted.//
"Abe, my sweet, do you serve coconut shrimp here?" She's not even looking. She's not looking, but somehow she knows. She opens her eyes when she hears a wine glass touch the table, takes that, looks over at nothing again. Down goes half a glass of wine -- hope it's decent!
"Oh, yeah, no, this isn't sauce, it's.." Not what they ordered, though! Rafael lets James deal with that as she asks that question of the server, reaching out to pluck a second biscuit from the basket before they're all devoured by James. Despite Abe's presence, though, he does answer one question: "Not as far as I know, no."
Abe blinks at the question. "We got uhhh... fried shrimp. And we got toasted shrimp..." And honestly, both the cook and Abe are lazy and somehow hope that every table's gonna want the BBQ shrimp? "I can check and see if we got coconut shrimp." And he's off. At least the wine is definitely red and there. It might not be the best, but it'll get the job done. The ghost however doesn't leave as quickly, dragging a phantom chair with her with, scratching across the floor to join their table. "You did hear me though! The only other person that could hear me was my mom... but it kept making her cry..."
James glances from the ghost making herself cozy to Rafael. "Okay." She takes a breath, and since this isn't going away, she says to her date, "There's a young lady at our table and she's brought a chair." She brushes her fingertips along the underside of her jaw and says, "Couldn't be easy for you mama seeing you after you were gone, could it? Still, if she could, she probably did before. I'm sorry she couldn't talk to you. Stuck in the family restaurant, huh? That your sister?" She glances over to the hostess who also seems to be avoiding this area. It is, at least, pleasantly chilly, which is really one of four things James wanted out of this night. It looks like she's talking to Rafael, save the direction of her gaze. She offers up just enough detail that he can follow along. Like this is perfectly normal.
Rafael brings his finger hand up, thumb and fore-knuckle rubbing against the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Labat. I'll make a note to punch my friend for recommending this place," he says in rueful tones, hand dropping, "We could always skip out and..." Oh. There's someone at the table?
He looks to the space where James is looking, then back to her. "Oh." Right. Ghosts. So as she doesn't seem to be insane, he just nods a little to her words, trying to look like he's the other half of the conversation while drinking his beer.
"She wasn't able, not all the time," The ghost-girl confesses as she leans forward, propping her elbows on the table as she stares at James. "I was sort of able to like... strengthen myself once? But then she looked like she nearly had a heart attack and well..." She does look guilty as she stares at the table. As the hostess is pointed out, she looks back and gives a bit of a smile. "Nah, that's my cousin, Cassie. But sure felt like sisters sometimes. Always stuck here, even when it we was WAY too young for them to be having us work. Were you really just talking about vampires? And werewolves? They're real???" Says the ghost.
"Uh.. yeah, so apparently they are, which I have some questions about myself." James replies, to the question about vampires and werewolves. "My friend here is kind of a ... sort of keeps an eye on things like that so they don't, you know, eat people or... whatever." She shifts in her seat, looking a little uncomfortable at something about the current topic at hand. Might be talking to a ghost, but. "I'm sorry your mama couldn't handle that. Mamas can't always deal with us." She takes a huge bite of her biscuit, which could definitely come off as unprofessional. "Seems like you'd kinda like to get out of here." She glances over to Rafael. "She's curious about vampires and wolves." That's said much more quietly. Not that anyone's listening in on them from this far away. Down goes the rest of the wine.
"Oh." The glass of beer is set down, Rafael's head turning a bit as he tries to figure out where the ghost is. He can't see her, can't hear her, so it's a toss-up, really. "Heh. Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but... yeah. And yeah, there's vampires, werewolves. The faeries are out there, and the changelings they took. Ghosts, obviously. Spirits. Angels. Monsters. It's a pretty full world-- more under heaven and earth, as it were."
"Really?" The ghost seems a bit surprised when James reveals that the Constable apparently constables the supernatural. "But he can't see me? How does he keep an eye on well... all that if there's stuff like me he can't see?" Forgive her for being a little self centered... she couldn't have been much more than twenty when she died. As for wanting to get out, she gives a slow nod. "I was supposed to be going to Tulane in the fall, but now I've basically been stuck here. Do you have any idea how boring it is to be stuck at work for thirty weeks and four days?" Not like she's been counting at all or something. "And not like I can even do anything or have anything to look forward to the next day to liven it up!" She picks up her phone. "Hell... can't even snapchat anybody. All I've been doing is playing Candy Crush."
"No, honey, he can't see you. Only certain people will be able to see you, really see you, without help. He has friends who do the job too, and everybody has special abilities, though... I don't know if they have a medium among them." James speaks quietly, like it's an intimate little dinner date, not like she's chatting with a ghost too. "I hate candy crush." Which means she only plays it when she absolutely cannot sleep. Is it on her phone? Yes. "Chocolate fucking fountains." Language, James! "Would you like to leave? Maybe we can help you leave. Find somewhere new, less BBQ shrimpish things. Though, I have to say, these biscuits are kinda good." Another bite is taken and she glances over at Rafael. Shrugs. "I mean I can't really help with the Tulane problem. Tell me, is there anything here you feel particularly connected to? Like an item or a person?"
"We had Wright, but he's... off looking into something." And has been for a few months. Rafael wrinkles his nose a little as he says it; casually enough spoken but it's been too long for him to be happy about it. An eyebrow raises a little. Candy crush. Chocolate fountains. "Why is there a ghost here, anyway? Did she eat the barbecue shrimp?" He eyes the dish. A fork is picked up, and he prods one of the shrimp slightly, as if bidding it reveal its evil intentions.
Oh nooooo! Rafael's found out Abe's diabolical plan! Just kidding. The only way the shrimp is killing someone is if they choke on it or in twenty years as its buttery goodness congeals together with a lifetime of other poor dietary choices into a massive heart attack. The ghost peers at Rafael as she considers James' words before she gives a little shrug to the medium, but the Candy Crush joke gets a laugh. "I know, right? Dang chocolates. But as for here... I mean, aside from them being my family? Not really. It was the last place I remember before I, you know..." There's a glance back to the photos up front which actually seem more like it might be a little memorial shrine to the lost daughter.
James looks over at Rafael at the mention of her fellow medium and mms. She doesn't sound all that happy about it either. She had //questions//. She glances over at the photos, then back. "Do you want to stay? Or... would you like to go? See what other things you can get up to?" She turns her gaze to the girl again and asks, "There's this thing I can do. It's gonna sound a little weird, but if you want, we can talk about it. I could see about -- just give me a second." She rises, and makes her way over to the cluster of images, like she's just stretching her legs before dinner, having a look around, with an empty wine glass in hand.
"I mean based on the food here, I'm not entirely-- oh, you meant the ghost." Right. Rafael picks up another biscuit, because he Does Not Trust These Shrimp. He didn't order them, and there are dead people in the restaurant, he's not sure that Abe is not secretly a supervillain. When his date gets up to observe the shrine, he remains seated so it doesn't look like they're trying to skip out on the check, though he watches her walking off to the memorial.
Either that, or he's checking out her ass in those pants. Or both.
The hostess seems to have bailed out to an actual break with her phone so James has unimpeded access to the little memorial shrine. The newspaper clippings are all relatively prestine and tell a pretty tragic tale. Emily Harrison was a straight A student going to community college to save money before transferring to Tulane. She wanted to be a nurse one day. That day looks like it'll never come (and James knows damn well now having met ghost-Emily it won't) seeing as back in November, she was closing up with her cousins, taking out the trash when she never came back in. Abe and Cassie went out to look and found the trash sprawled out in the alley way. And oh look, Probably Not a Super Villan Abe arrives with the alfredo, with plenty of crawfish and cajun seasoning. And the gumbo. At least that bit is right even if the coconut shrimp is still nowhere to be seen. BBQ SHRIMP FOR LIFE. He doesn't even look for James, just dropping the food in front of Rafael and disappearing off again. Emily gives a snort. "Some people never change."
After touching things, being generally nosy, and loitering by the little family shrine, James turns back and shakes her head slightly. She wanders back when the food arrives, without even the chance to shove her empty glass into the waiter's hands. "Hey, at least we kinda got what we ordered." She drops down to sit in her chair, turning to the ghost. "Emily, I'm so sorry, girl. How would you feel about having your spirit bound into a fresh corpse to Nancy Drew the shit out of your murder?" Yo, what was in that wine? She picks up her fork and dives into the pasta. James Labat can multi task.
Is it poisonous? Rafael considers th emeal for a moment, and then he leans over to spear one of James' crawfish to steal for his plate. It's because he wants to make sure it's not poisoned, and unlike her, he'd survive most poisonings without much more than a briefly upset stomach.
It's definitely not because food stolen from your date is better.
As she comes back over, he's taking a spoonful of the gumbo into his mouth. He considers the taste, then nods a bit. Tolerable, at least. Not bad, but not perfect.
Then she suggests turning the waitress-ghost into a zombie, and he nearly chokes on the mouthful of gumbo.
Emily would probably also be choking if she were actually capable of eating anything... or had any need to breath. Instead, the ghost's eyes just widen at the offer. "You mean, like a zombie? Zombies are real too? And you can do that??? And like... I'd still be me and stuff? Not just a mindless drone or anything?" She is very much impressed with the medium and not just cause James is probably the first person she's been able to to have a conversation with since she died, but she's still remembering to ask those important questions.
And the real important question: "Where would you be getting the corpse from?"
James has powerchomped two carb-filled cheese garlic biscuits and shot a glass of wine like it was water. She's totally on board with the Zombie Drewing. No, she hasn't mad a Retainer since she's been in town. In fact, she's actively avoided as many ghosts as possible. She takes a huge bite of her pasta and chews, waiting for Emily's reply. "Yeah, totally a zombie." She says, a hand in front of her mouth to at least pretend she's not an animal when it comes to creamy pasta. She does chew a little more and swallow before she continues, "Only less rotted and gross and more... mm. Slightly pale but that's what a BB cream in a shade up is for. Hello, bronzer." Says the incredibly pale-skinned mortician. "You'd be you, and technically you'd have to work for me, but not a mindless servant kinda way. "You'd have independent thought, you know, but you'd really have to work with me to keep it on the down low. People aren't ok with zombies when they know they're a thing. All those movies, you know?" Like those movies are the difficulty in this situation.
"Oh, the body? Well. We have to wait for someone to die and then liberate their ..." Corpse. //Corpse//. Corpse. "Vessel. They're not using it anymore, it's fine. Happily, I'm a mortician, so I see this kind of thing pretty often. Funeral homes don't creep you out, right?"
After coughing several times and finally recovering (briefly he was worried he'd be joining Emily), Rafael reaches over for his beer and finishes it off in a long swallow. Setting it down, he quips, "Strangest place for a job interview //I've// ever seen."
"A zombie," the ghost really is stunned and probably wouldn't even notice if James was carelessly giving them all a display of see-food seafood. "You make it sound so... nice." While it might be hard to tell from her current insubstantial form, those pictures at least showed a girl that knew a thing or two about using make-up. Her eye makeup was fantastic! She does give a slow nod about the people not being okay with the moving dead thing. "Yeah... I kinda get that after the time with my mom." It's merely a whisper, but it's definitely a lesson that hit the dead girl hard. "But like, as long as you're not killing anybody... sounds like it sure beats lingering around here for forever. Although I don't know the first thing about what to do to look for the guy that killed me. Can he help? He'll be able to see and hear me if you get me a body?" Her manners may have gone out the door a bit with so long not being seen, cause Emily's pointing straight at Rafael.
James glances over at Rafael. For a second there, she was worried she'd have to get up and go see if she still remembers how to save a choking human. She's so used to dealing with the dead ones. "If you'd choked to death right there, that would have been the most awkward stop to a date in... at least six years." She pauses. "You ok, Raf?" She reaches across the table.
"It's not so bad. Get a fresh corpse, and no, I would never kill anyone." James hesitates. "For personal gain." That pops right out. She takes another bite of pasta, smaller this time. "I'm sure Rafael would help out if we asked him nicely. And if you just want to get back to life a little bit, then decide? That's up to you. I could use a receptionist and I feel like your life was cut short far too soon. You seem like a sweet girl, so maybe we can help each other." She nods. "Yes, everyone will be able to see and hear you if you have a body, including Rafael." Somewhere in the back of her mind, you'd think questions like these would ring little alarm bells, but they don't.
After the beer's cleared his throat, Rafael waves a hand vaguely through the air. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he breathes out in a chuckle, hand dropping down to rest over the hand that had reached across the table; fingers slightly tangling with hers if she doesn't draw away, callused skin against relatively smoother.
A single eyebrow does go up at the mention of him helping, though, and he notes, "I'm sure we can work something out. I'm gonna want to ask about when you had a date more awkward than death, though, Labat."
"A real body again...." Emily sounds as if James is practically offering her a sure-fire winning lottery ticket, something she hadn't actually considered for months. "And it'd be like a regular job and as long as I don't let anybody know I'm a zombie, I can actually like... go places! And do things! I want to see the beach again! And pet a puppy although I guess it can't be my dog..." She sounds a bit disappointed at that but gives a shrug, practically bouncing with excitement. "Do I need to like, sign anything or something? Cause honestly... even the whole receptionist bit sounds so much better than just lurking around here with nothing to do. And like, I can handle blood and stuff. I had shadowed a coroner once, before settling on nursing."
Trust Rafael to pick up on that little implication in her dating history. James just smiles, without elaborating at the moment. It will probably come around again, like a few other things she's said. She gives his hand a squeeze, and doesn't pull back from that contact. Just two people on a date, nearly choking on food while having an animated conversation about, uh, zombies. "If you don't mind hanging out here a little while longer, Emily, I can come back for you when I find you a suitable body. I'll try to stay under 30 and cute." Hey, she knows how it is. "But that might take a little while. Is that okay?"
She starts to respond regarding the puppy thing, but only just stops herself. No dogs in the funeral home. "No, you just need to agree, no signatures yet. Though... there may be some paperwork after. My employees all contract with the house as usual. And if you really wanted to, you could train to do more than receptionist work. We could use some help with body prep and hauling, if you'd be interested in more."
The flat of Rafael's thumb rubs against the side of James' hand in a light contact, a smile finding his expression and crinkling the corners of his eyes as he watches her apparently negotiating with a ghost for a moment. Whatever he's thinking, it's then hidden by mediocre gumbo as he takes another spoonful of it up to his mouth.
Once he's swallowed, he notes quietly, "I'll keep an eye out for any bodies that show up during my duties. Shit, I wish I knew a few weeks ago, the bodies from the Bride's killings would've been perfect."
Emily raises an eyebrow at the question of if she minds hanging out a little longer. "I'm dead... it's not like I have anything but time." And attitude, still plenty of that as well, but she is smiling a bit as she bobs her head in excitement at the suggestion of the suitable body. "That'd be great! Was a little worried when I thought about like... what if the only body you could find was a guy and like.... super old." She cringes just a bit. Her eyes narrow a little bit about the mention of paperwork. "If I'm technically dead, how will that work? The paperwork stuff? Have to like... buy a false identity like buying a fake id or something?" Not like she had one of those... or seven. Had to get her underage alcohol somehow! "I can wait here. As long as you don't forget me." The last sounds more desperate than anything she's said yet, even the mention of her mom's terror at seeing her manifest. The sadness vanishes though as Rafael brings up something completely different. "Whoa... he's been working with a murder case? SO COOL." Her opinion on the Constable just did a 180!
TFW your date conversation is how perfect the bodies from a some murders you worked a few weeks ago would be fantastic right about now. James glances over at Rafael and takes a bite of her pasta. "Dude." It's no less true for being oddly phrased, that bit about the bodies, but still. James still hasn't caught up to the fact that this is her life now. And there are vampires. And werewolves. And she's gonna have to sign those darn Accords. Yes she can promise a college age ghost a new body and continue to eat her linguine. Even mediocre pasta with cream sauce is still //pasta with cream sauce//. "Aw, it's our first project together that doesn't end in a guy dying in my arms."
"Mainly when you have a body it's a formality. I'm not taking a zombie to court or something. They'd set us both on fire." She smiles and says, "I won't forget you, Emily. I always keep my promises. Just think, as soon as we find you a body, you can start learning about all the weird crap in town nobody ever tells you about. More importantly, your phone use can go beyond Candy Crush. There's this Netflix series called Tiger King... it's the worst; you'll love it."
"What? They would have. There wasn't a mark on them, just schlupp all the blood was gone," Rafael replies with eyebrows raising a little at James. What? That's pretty tame conversation, they're already planning to steal a body and put a ghost in it. "No stitching necessary or any of that."
Then he's chuckling roughly. "Court, yeah, no. We handle murder cases in the shadows a bit more seriously than the cops do."
Emily just stares in fascination at more details of the strange killings Rafael is handing out, but then she blinks as she looks at the suit... and the fancy lace shirt James is wearing. "Ohhhhh, crap. Y'all are on a date, aren't you? I'm sorry. Really. It's just..." She holds out her arms, a bit helpless. The medium has been the first person she could talk to for a while so of course the dead girl was excited. "Whenever you have a body, I'll be here! Just like... over there." She's going to wander a little ways away and while she's certainly going to eavesdrop to see if they have any more FASCINATING tidbits about the supernatural world, at least she won't be so blatantly trying to third wheel it up on the date.
James hides her smirk behind her water glass, then finishes that off. "Yeah, we are. It's ok. Not every day someone can hear you, right?" She nods. "I'll be back as soon as we do, and I have a feeling it'll be sooner than later." She watches the girl go, smile lingering, and then turns her blue-eyed gaze back to Rafael. "She's cute. Energetic and probably great on the phone. She wanted to be a nurse, and was set to go to Tulane..." She trails off, glancing down at her pasta. Her fingers still in Rafael's and she glances up after a few moments, swirling up a regular sized bite. She gives his hand another light squeeze. "Sorry about that. She's been stuck here for a while and the only person that can see her is her mom sometimes, which goes over about as well as you can imagine." She isn't gonna cry. No she is not. James takes a breath through her nose. "How's the gumbo?"
Rafael returns that squeeze, holding it for a moment before easing the grip. "Shit. Poor girl..." He looks away, as if trying to see the ghost in question. Of course, he can't. He looks back to the woman across the table from him, offering her a faint smile, "Well, hopefully you can help. Maybe we could even talk to her mother about it, but-- well." Maybe not. Could be a bad plan. Shaking his head, "Anyway, eh-- it's passable. Like, I wouldn't come here again to eat, anyway.""It's something for the future, if... well things work out." James doesn't mention any details on how mom took seeing a ghost. "It'll be good to get her out of here, to find more life again." And aware that Emily is still lingering, not close, but still here, she takes one more bite of the pasta, then puts her fork down. If their waiter ever shows up again, she'll have it boxed, along with the giant basket of biscuits and some extra, because that's a craving she's gonna have at 3am. "We'll figure it out. The angel thing... figure that out. Get the reno done on the house. I'll hire another mortician. One more step closer to getting some great sleep and taking over the world." She slides her plate a little forward to drape an arm across the table. "Or, you know, a date without death."