Upon entering the hallway, Ellie seemed to return to her usual calm, though it was true -- as always -- that she was very aware of David walking at her side. It was the kind of attention she might have given a private social experiment; the rate of their steps, the length of her pace against his, how subtly she could glance at him from the corner of her eye. (Not incredibly.) He was pleased, wasn't he? Pleased enough that Ellie had been able to hear it in his voice.
Rae had been right.
Ellie had been right. Encouraged at the thought, a new energy entered her step, putting a cheery bounce into the beam of her flashlight. Feeling happy was a nice change.
The plan for tonight was to take David back to the 1825 cellblock -- the one that had housed Sing Sing's original prisoners years and years ago, falling into disuse long before the outbreak. She'd been there once before, when the rebellion had first claimed the complex for their own; she remembered it being quite atmospheric and strange, too, in that way that certain historical buildings had. Allegedly people had died in the block, of course, giving rise to all sorts of ghost stories -- and it might not have been the most romantic place to try and confess your love to someone, but Ellie had never been very romantic anyway. Perhaps that was why all of this was so difficult; when it came to relationships, it seemed the important things always were.
"Have you...." She began at last, voice echoing slightly in the empty hallway. "Ever... Really seen one? A ghost. Or... Something ghost-like."
Regardless of her own ideas, these things always made for good stories -- and if they were David's stories, it didn't matter to Ellie at all whether or not they were scientifically or logically reasonable.