"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.
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.
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“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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