[Just... watching him, from across the hall. He doesn't normally bother with ghosts, not really, spent so much of his life ignoring the things that he sees, but.. there's no scent of blood in the air. There's no body. And being stuck dead without a place to go back to... that was awful
[Even if he can't see at the moment Lavi knows the feeling of being watched. Yet he can't even pinpoint it as there's not even a single noise giving Allen away.
He sighs and leans back against the couch, letting go of his legs.]
[Watching the people in the general area pass by before he actually responds, waiting to see if they'll linger. When he notices that they don't seem to be, he lets out a sigh.]
[There's a soft sound, like someone running their fingers along the wall and feet shuffling along the floor as they stumble down the hallway outside. The sound stops when whoever it is comes to the door, and a figure steps into view; a brown-haired Allen who seems fixated on something ahead of him.]
[At least until he turns his head, and he casts a far-away look into the room and stumbles in. He flops down on the floor right in front of the couch, staring at a spot on the wall behind Lavi's head before his eyes finally come into focus.]
[He wrings his fingers around a dwindling nub of jungle-green crayon. Someone can hear you, Lavi. Someone can see you. Even if that someone has to tune into the right frequency to do it. Say something?]
[He hears it but his sight is still denied from his use, all that blood can't be washed off when he's stuck like this. Irritating. Yet he feels a little unnerved by the new presence and shifts on the couch, letting his feet hit the floor.]
You alright?
[He heard the flop, knows someone is there, it's just...who?]
[There's a pause before he answers, making sure the frequency is just strong enough. Talking to the dead, in some ways, is easier when he's Walking than talking to the living. It seems the living can't tune into what he's saying, perhaps their own beating hearts makes it too difficult for them to hear.]
[That said, he laughs a little, in a friendly way.] ... the deaddon't usually ask the living if they're all right.
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...so he'll continue to watch.]
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He sighs and leans back against the couch, letting go of his legs.]
Staring is rude, whoever you are.
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You should go back to your body.
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I would if I could find it, yeah? It's not here. It's in that other damned place.
[Collar look familiar, Allen? Those numbers on the front?]
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[At least until he turns his head, and he casts a far-away look into the room and stumbles in. He flops down on the floor right in front of the couch, staring at a spot on the wall behind Lavi's head before his eyes finally come into focus.]
[He wrings his fingers around a dwindling nub of jungle-green crayon. Someone can hear you, Lavi. Someone can see you. Even if that someone has to tune into the right frequency to do it. Say something?]
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You alright?
[He heard the flop, knows someone is there, it's just...who?]
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[That said, he laughs a little, in a friendly way.] ... the deaddon't usually ask the living if they're all right.
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[The laugh is without humor and he rubs at his chest, already knowing that the heart is still there. So Tyki wasn't the one who killed him.
Lavi leans back against the couch, closing his unseeing eyes.] The other dead can see if the living are alright. Right now I can't see a thing.
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