Richie Gecko is a prodigy. (lockartist) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-11-05 12:13:00 |
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Entry tags: | kate fuller, richie gecko |
Characters: Richie Gecko + Kate Fuller.
Location: Richie’s building in La Habra.
Time: 2 November, during work hours.
Warnings: Richie being an ass, some swearing.
Summary: Festiveness.
Status: Closed, incomplete.
To phrase it simply, Richie was still both shocked and annoyed about this whole ordeal. He was less moody since he was able to master being able to manipulate objects and maintain a somewhat solid appearance, but it was hard not to be a little sour at the fact was he currently dead or a ghost. All because someone insisted he be festive for Halloween, a holiday he didn’t even like. That particular someone hasn’t really gotten a moment of peace since all of this started, first because he completely blamed her for this and then because there weren’t many other people for him to haunt as it were. Since becoming the undead, he had run the gamut of stereotypical things to do, including ‘disappearing’ and moving objects around, causing radios and televisions to emit static, turning lights on and off and once he was even bored enough to find a couple chains and he rattled them in the middle of the night. His favourite thing had been to move all the furniture in Kate’s aunt’s house over about four inches to the left and watched said aunt and Kate’s brother, Scott, walk into everything and look generally concerned. Richie made no excuses for himself and would have admitted it was hilarious if asked. Despite the things he could get away with now that he was a ghost, Richie was still unnerved by the whole thing. The one thing he didn’t talk about had been the moment in between him being alive with that fucking sheet on his head and being an incorporeal shade. It hadn’t been alive one minute a ghost the next, even though the process happened almost instantaneously. Richie couldn’t remember a gunshot, didn’t see Kate turn a gun on him but he felt it in the second his body turned into nothing, could smell the gunpowder, the blood. Looking at the area he had been standing in when it happened, there was nothing there, no blood, no bullet or even the casing but Richie had felt it, had felt like he’d actually died. Reexamining the sheet that was the catalyst of this whole thing, there was a hole in it and the hole lined up — when the sheet was over his head — where the bullet hole was in his chest. Biting the inside of his cheek, Richie pulled his mind away from that clusterfuck and back to the shop. The other day, someone had dropped off a huge safe and it had been so rusted that it was nearly impossible to open and no small matter of skill in cracking a safe was going to get it to open. Richie had more than enough skill and he could get even this safe open, but it would take time. At the same time, the client was insanely curious as to what was hidden inside the decades old chunk of metal and Richie was too. Since becoming a ghost, Richie had been resisting the temptation to just phase into the safe and take a look at what was inside. He could even call the client back in and set them up for a sucker’s bet on what’s inside. Richie stood up off the stool he had placed in front of the safe and walked though the wall onto the main floor where Kate was. Still mostly see-through and sort of unnoticeable, he changed the radio station that was on before pulling himself into a more substantial form. “Any guesses for what’s in the safe?” While he waited for a response, he took a look at some of the other safes and projects that were hauled in the past couple days that he hadn’t looked at for various reason, his current incorporealness being the number one reason. “If I was a betting man, I’d say it has some old bonds in it,” Richie said without looking up from his surveying. If he was right, the thief in him would have no problem skimming off the top of those bonds. Once they changed hands, they were untraceable, which was why he loved them. Old habits die hard. |