Re: carriage house - michael and atticus
Atticus nodded when Michael thanked him for the Carver suggestion. Atticus wasn't any expert in what made souls rest. Had watched the Sixth Sense like everyone else, but some haunts didn't have trauma. Some haunts didn't have unfinished business. Would be nice if he could horse whisper them all into restful slumber, but wasn't like that. Some people just didn't want to die. Some people clung to it until their fingers bled. Those people didn't go easy. Those people looked for ways to stay as real and alive as possible. Atticus just happened to be one of those ways, and he knew it wasn't about unfinished business and not being able to find the light. It was about something different. Putting a name on that headstone with Michael's wife buried beneath it, it would be more for Michael than for whoever rested there. Atticus didn't think Clementine was gone. He thought Clementine was currently otherwise occupied.
"Might come back," he said, once Michael was done talking about the woman he'd married. Wasn't actually a commentary on what Michael said, because Atticus knew Michael was saying it for Michael. Atticus was meant to understand it, but it was still for Michael. "Going to need to decide if you let Carver try to get rid of her if she does." Practical things. Atticus liked practical things. "Don't think getting married with someone you love is stupid, Michael. Arranged marriages aren't even stupid. Some people claim they work better than the ones we make for ourselves. Love, passion, those things fade, they say. It's partnership that's left, and maybe someone else can see that more clearly than we can, without the emotions." Atticus believed what he was saying, even if it didn't precisely go well with all the things written in the books he so loved.
Also wasn't surprised Michael hadn't found the answers to the mystery of his life until he was a teenager. Fit for Michael not to push before that. Still mysteries out there, obviously.
Atticus took a swallow from his newly popped beer. He nursed his cigarette until the room was overtaken in smoke. It was warm for a change. No bitter cold. None of these things were threatening, and the haunts were quiet. "Sounds like a winner, this Dane Blake. Same man with the hallucinogens when I was out of town?" Atticus tried very hard not to become involved in the gossip around Repose. Felt certain it was an endless rabbit hole, but this seemed like too much coincidence for even him to ignore, and he chuckled mirthlessly when Michael explained the conditions inside the facility. "Always trying not to die. People say money makes the world go round. Love makes the world go round." Atticus shook his head, and he mussed at his curls after putting the beer down to sweat on the coffee table. "Not about either of those things. It's about not dying." He grinned apologetically. "Which is still about dying. What do you want to discuss that's more lighthearted? Your current romance?" Felt safe enough.