"Yes, Michael Jackson," Mao confirmed with a hint of impatience, as if the stranger had exasperated him by even questioning what he had been talking about. What else? WHO else? C'mon now. At least the guy followed up by asking who hasn't seen Thriller, and thus Mao was mollified.
"No, no, no. Leave zombie lure out of it." Mao stood only to pace as he spoke, peering down at the redhead while he did so, hands gesturing dramatically. "It goes further back than that. Dead things dance. Death dances. What do they call it, uh--" he snapped his fingers a few times to job his memory. "Danse Macabre! Skeletons dance on Halloween. Hanged men dance at the end of the rope. Its a thing." He spoke with complete conviction, there was no arguing this point with him.
As much as he liked feeling taller, it wasn't very polite to have a conversation with someone at this sort of distance. Mao gracefully jumped down from the wall to land before the other teen. Now he was the one who had to look up, but Mao was used to that.
"So, like, wouldn't you rather there be some way to keep the undead in-line instead of a total free-for-all?"