"And why would you bring along a shotgun, anyway?" Asked Teague, sincerely curious. "Aren't ghosts kind of, well, like you said, a different plane? where they're all see through and junk?" He shifted his weight to one foot as he waited for Dean to open the door, before nodding and stepping in.
Inside, it was like the boarding school from Hell. The place still had the stink of a fire inside it, and the wallpaper and the paint were chipping and peeling off the walls. Paper was strewn about, and the furniture that had once likely been plush and comfortable in the foyer was dusty, and smelled like mildew. The floors, however, seemed stable enough, and that was a welcome surprise for Teague. He put a matchbook against the latch of the door before closing it (He'd sneaked into his fair share of abandoned houses before) and made sure it didn't latch before looking up the stairs, and then down the long corridor which led to the boarding rooms. "What did the people say about the kids and guy that died here again?"