Week 20- Thursday
Who: James and Fisher
What: Creepy shit
Where: Random Hallway
When: Mid-Afternoon

This woman he was following was someone's mom. He knew she was, because she had said so. She looked frail, and tired, like she had given up fighting and just let herself cross over. Unfortunately, she apparently wasn't done talking yet. She'd scared the crap out of Fisher that morning by standing at ther foot of his bed, paitently waiting for him to get up. He did not appreciate this, as he was sleeping in only a pair of boxer shorts. Still, she wasn't as pushy as a lot of spirits were. She mostly looked helpless, like she needed Fisher more than anything. So begrudgingly, he'd decided to follow her and see where she led him.

And so far he'd been following her all damn day. She only ever said one word as they walked- James- and then she'd start down another hallway. Sometimes the dead got lost, especially in unfamiliar ground. So he patiently followed, trying to remember if he even knew of a James at Halcyon. If James looked like his mother, then the face wasn't ringing any bells.

It was starting to look hopeless, until the woman halted along the corridor leadoing to the House of Fire. Her finger stretched out, pointing to a clean young man who seemed distracted. He was well shaped and cut like a boy should be, and Fisher felt a lump in his throat. This guy was way out of his league, one of the snobby assholes that probably wouldn't think to speak to someone like Fisher, what with his dark clothing and "guy-liner" (thank you, Jax). Still, this lady looked so sad he couldn't help but at least try.

"James," he said weakly, then cleared his throat. "James," he said again, with authority. "Your mother wants to talk to you."