That very happy attitude contrasted so much with the heaviness of death that Levy felt on Hans. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust that Hans was being honest, but... well...
Some dark secret hides behind that guise.
I know that.
How to delicately bring that up with the issue Levy was facing at the moment; usually the ghosts he encountered were either miserable or angry, and it came easier to speak with them about their problems. Hans was either trying to obscure his history, or in denial of it, or... something. Part of Levy wondered if it was really right to pry, considering Hans was avoiding the issue. But then again, he felt it was his obligation to help people like Hans, and maybe the other man just needed a little encouragement to open up about his plight.
“Hey, Hans. I’m Levy.” He took a seat at the bar and tried again, his voice just a touch concerned, “Look, you don’t have to hide it if you don’t want to. I know that death has affected you in a big way.” He couldn’t tell if Hans was a serial killer or had worked in a morgue for years -- he wasn’t a mind-reader, just could feel the weight of death around a person. And Hans was definitely carrying a lot. “If there’s some way I can help, let me know.” A little shrug. “Or you can tell me to shut up and leave you alone, that works, too.” Not all ghosts or undead persons wanted help, but Levy felt like he needed to give Hans that option anyway.
"Oh! Oh, oh oh," Hans said, clapping his hands together like a delighted child. "You want to talk about that."
He shakes his eggshell tipped finger at Levy. "Tsk, tsk. A man never gives away his secrets so easy. You could at least buy me a drink first!" He giggles as if this is a funny, funny thing.
He's going to hate himself in the morning but right now everything is a bright source of amusement.
"Fair enough, I guess." Levy had been rather afraid of that. Whenever he had to procure something in the Underworld, no one ever wanted money in exchange for an item; they wanted some trinket he was carrying, or a favor. But if this was the only way he could get Hans to open up and allow himself to be helped, Levy decided it would be best if he played along. The lengths he went to help the dead were quite far at times; he truly felt like it was his duty to help people like Hans whenever possible.
This place looked like a relatively normal cafe, but who could ever tell, really. He'd been exposed to so many levels of weird that he knew by now that things were not always what they seemed. Levy was surprised to find that they actually did accept money here, so he offered up enough to pay for that beer that Hans had requested a few moments before.
"Danke," Hans said, and took the beer to have a hearty swig of it. "Ah, they serve a good brew here. Good, good beer. And eggs! Beer and eggs, eggs and beer..."
More laughter, the soft glow surrounding his face lighting up a little brighter as he laughs.
"So tell me, Levy -- why are you concerned with such things? It's such a wonderful bright beautiful day - why should we waste it speaking of such nasty, ugly things as death?"
He tapped his fingers on the side of the beer. "Let's talk about something else instead. Have you ever heard the Schnappi song? We could have a sing-along!"
Levy waved off that offer for a sing-along; he needed to be fairly sloshed on kosher wine before that was ever going to happen.
He lowered his voice a little before speaking again; he didn’t want anyone else to overhear and think he was a crazy person. It was risk enough that Hans might think that. “Listen, I know this might sound crazy, but there are people like me who have a duty to help people like you.” Becoming spirit-possessed had been a huge struggle at first; just contacting the dead was against the Mitzvot. Over time he’d had to reconcile what he felt was his obligation to what was written in the Torah, and that certainly hadn’t been an easy journey.
Ghosts seemed to just know that Levy could help them; they gravitated toward him when he was around. Vampires were different; most of them told him to get lost. But Hans was something different entirely, and Levy couldn’t put his finger on just what that was because he’d never encountered it before. “I can't make you tell me, but I'm not going to be able to help you unless I know more about you. I know already that you’re older than you look. Why is that?”
"Guess!" Hans said, giving him an impish smile. "Here, here-- I'll make it easy for you-- it will be multiple choice, ja?"
He holds up his fingers (eggshell still on his thumb) to tick them off as choices.
"Choice one- more plastic surgery than Michael Jackson and Joan Rivers combined!" He wiggled his pinkie finger.
"Choice two-- good genes. Designer jeans, perhaps? Do I look good for my age, is that what you're telling me? You can lie to me if you like-- a little flattery is good for the ego."
He folded a second finger down.
"Choice three - I'm a fairy prince, cursed by an evil witch to live forever in this form until death do I part from this world - and death can only come from true love's kiss."
He folded a third finger down.
"Choice four - I'm a very, very, very bad man who did some dreadful things and cannot die until he atones for them. Not ever, not even a hair on my head can die until that day all is made good again.
He folded that finger down. Only his thumb remained with the eggshell on it.
"Choice five - you can have this eggshell. It's not a very good choice, and I don't recommend it." He offers his hand over to Levy anyhow.
Levy listened, resting his elbows against the bar countertop. Choices one and two were impossible; he knew Hans was actually older than he looked. Choice three seemed... silly, so Levy wasn’t as quick to believe that. And five was right out.
“Four,” Levy replied without hesitation, reaching up to remove that bit of eggshell from Hans’ thumb before setting it back on the bar. He commonly encountered ghosts who felt too ashamed to leave this realm because of wrongdoings they committed, who clung to this world in fear of facing a higher power after what they’d done. But Hans wasn’t a ghost, was he? Hans' body refused to physically age much like a vampire’s would, but Levy could tell that he wasn’t undead. It was strange.
“Lots of people in your position say that,” he continued. “But you have to know that it’s you that’s making yourself feel like this. Look, you don’t have to tell me what you did -- but you have to forgive yourself.” Levy firmly believed that G-d did not cast anyone away from him, and he certainly didn’t believe in any fiery pit of hell. Hans had to be keeping himself here because of guilt.
Or at least that’s what Levy assumed. He had no idea that Hans was cursed; all the ghosts he’d met before clung to this realm on their own, not because someone else had forced them to stay.
Some dark secret hides behind that guise.
I know that.
How to delicately bring that up with the issue Levy was facing at the moment; usually the ghosts he encountered were either miserable or angry, and it came easier to speak with them about their problems. Hans was either trying to obscure his history, or in denial of it, or... something. Part of Levy wondered if it was really right to pry, considering Hans was avoiding the issue. But then again, he felt it was his obligation to help people like Hans, and maybe the other man just needed a little encouragement to open up about his plight.
“Hey, Hans. I’m Levy.” He took a seat at the bar and tried again, his voice just a touch concerned, “Look, you don’t have to hide it if you don’t want to. I know that death has affected you in a big way.” He couldn’t tell if Hans was a serial killer or had worked in a morgue for years -- he wasn’t a mind-reader, just could feel the weight of death around a person. And Hans was definitely carrying a lot. “If there’s some way I can help, let me know.” A little shrug. “Or you can tell me to shut up and leave you alone, that works, too.” Not all ghosts or undead persons wanted help, but Levy felt like he needed to give Hans that option anyway.
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He shakes his eggshell tipped finger at Levy. "Tsk, tsk. A man never gives away his secrets so easy. You could at least buy me a drink first!" He giggles as if this is a funny, funny thing.
He's going to hate himself in the morning but right now everything is a bright source of amusement.
Reply
This place looked like a relatively normal cafe, but who could ever tell, really. He'd been exposed to so many levels of weird that he knew by now that things were not always what they seemed. Levy was surprised to find that they actually did accept money here, so he offered up enough to pay for that beer that Hans had requested a few moments before.
Reply
More laughter, the soft glow surrounding his face lighting up a little brighter as he laughs.
"So tell me, Levy -- why are you concerned with such things? It's such a wonderful bright beautiful day - why should we waste it speaking of such nasty, ugly things as death?"
He tapped his fingers on the side of the beer. "Let's talk about something else instead. Have you ever heard the Schnappi song? We could have a sing-along!"
Reply
He lowered his voice a little before speaking again; he didn’t want anyone else to overhear and think he was a crazy person. It was risk enough that Hans might think that. “Listen, I know this might sound crazy, but there are people like me who have a duty to help people like you.” Becoming spirit-possessed had been a huge struggle at first; just contacting the dead was against the Mitzvot. Over time he’d had to reconcile what he felt was his obligation to what was written in the Torah, and that certainly hadn’t been an easy journey.
Ghosts seemed to just know that Levy could help them; they gravitated toward him when he was around. Vampires were different; most of them told him to get lost. But Hans was something different entirely, and Levy couldn’t put his finger on just what that was because he’d never encountered it before. “I can't make you tell me, but I'm not going to be able to help you unless I know more about you. I know already that you’re older than you look. Why is that?”
Reply
He holds up his fingers (eggshell still on his thumb) to tick them off as choices.
"Choice one- more plastic surgery than Michael Jackson and Joan Rivers combined!" He wiggled his pinkie finger.
"Choice two-- good genes. Designer jeans, perhaps? Do I look good for my age, is that what you're telling me? You can lie to me if you like-- a little flattery is good for the ego."
He folded a second finger down.
"Choice three - I'm a fairy prince, cursed by an evil witch to live forever in this form until death do I part from this world - and death can only come from true love's kiss."
He folded a third finger down.
"Choice four - I'm a very, very, very bad man who did some dreadful things and cannot die until he atones for them. Not ever, not even a hair on my head can die until that day all is made good again.
He folded that finger down. Only his thumb remained with the eggshell on it.
"Choice five - you can have this eggshell. It's not a very good choice, and I don't recommend it." He offers his hand over to Levy anyhow.
Reply
“Four,” Levy replied without hesitation, reaching up to remove that bit of eggshell from Hans’ thumb before setting it back on the bar. He commonly encountered ghosts who felt too ashamed to leave this realm because of wrongdoings they committed, who clung to this world in fear of facing a higher power after what they’d done. But Hans wasn’t a ghost, was he? Hans' body refused to physically age much like a vampire’s would, but Levy could tell that he wasn’t undead. It was strange.
“Lots of people in your position say that,” he continued. “But you have to know that it’s you that’s making yourself feel like this. Look, you don’t have to tell me what you did -- but you have to forgive yourself.” Levy firmly believed that G-d did not cast anyone away from him, and he certainly didn’t believe in any fiery pit of hell. Hans had to be keeping himself here because of guilt.
Or at least that’s what Levy assumed. He had no idea that Hans was cursed; all the ghosts he’d met before clung to this realm on their own, not because someone else had forced them to stay.
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