Re: Investigation: Seven/Klaus One ghost and you’re hitting the bottle? Seven’s fingers tightened around the glass neck while he made the conscious decision not to turn on his heel and put his fist through the face of the man who was supposedly here to help. He swallowed hard and it scraped like powdered glass coated his insides, but he didn’t say anything yet. Once they’d entered the master bedroom he’d stepped off to the side and set the bottle down on a dresser, then turned and rocked back a little with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. A little awkward, a little anxious. It was his first seance, okay? He didn’t have the low down on the etiquette. At least the gin made him give a shit less about the possibility of a faux pas.
He’d been staring into the middle distance and also at the spot on the carpet where he’d first stepped in cold, stinking water in the night, but his head jerked up as Klaus spoke. He smelled the decay of algae bloom, just as he did most days. But he couldn’t see the puddles right now. Couldn’t see anyone in the room other than himself and the - medium? Psychic? Seven had no grasp for the correct word to apply here and he didn’t give a fuck, either. Klaus was talking to somebody, there was an obvious back and forth going on, and Seven took a step towards the place where the man was looking. His eyes were glazed from the liquor heating his insides but they were also wide, and he wanted nothing more than to see.
And then. Fucking hell, the second that Klaus mentioned cheekbones, he knew that it was true. How absurd was that? He knew that Liam was here, on the other side of some fucking veil that he couldn’t see or touch or comprehend, but decidedly beyond his reach. All because this guy was just in awe of Liam's beauty as Seven had always been. “What? Oh, uh - yeah, sometimes. And it smells like dead seaweed on the beach, or something?”
He’d taken another few steps on bare feet, slow and hesitant towards the bed in the direction that Klaus had been staring as he talked. Something in his gut clenched each time that the guy mentioned unfinished business, and after a minute or two he realized that it was a wild hope. The sort that filled his mouth with the taste of something sour, like bile. Hope and dread in one.
“Liam?” He murmured, soft gravel and so, so painfully hesitant. He didn’t bother feeling stupid, because he didn’t know this Klaus guy from Adam and if there was even the slightest chance that Liam could talk to him… Seven’s hands had been curled into fists at his side but he felt one lifting of its own accord to stretch into the air between himself and the side of the bed. He ignored the guy who was suddenly having some sort of fucking meltdown behind him, didn’t spare a glance because he was too busy searching in the room that just looked empty for a sign, a flicker, for anything. “Liam, please, if you’re here-”