Time for a Talk

Mercy

I'm fine.
This is the point where I'm supposed to ask how you are, Cecilia. Isn't it?

Schadel:

*smiles* Hi Layla and Cecila. I'm Schadel, owner of Schadel's Necromancy Agency. *stares at teapot* Um...Cecila, what does your lover do for a living? I mean, most people don't put cyanide in teapots.

Cecilia

Oh, I'm fine as well, Ms. Mercy. Just got one of my henchmen out of prison, that was good. The cost was expensive, though. Let's hope he knows where to get that Afghani opium we were talking about or else we'll have to chuck him into a river next Christmas.

My lover? Ah, she's a funny one, Rebecca. Plays practical jokes on me. She's up for anything as long as it's dangerous, and since she was discharged the army she has to work to find anything that suits her needs. A loaded gun, that one--a woman after my own heart. *looks at tea suspiciously*. Hm. It seems we've managed to drink all the good pots without any of us dying. Let me get rid of this last one, then. *picks up pot, throws out the window*. Well then. How about you, Schadel? I've heard many strange things surrounding your nature from my author. Is the death business coming along smoothly?

Mercy

"Jeez!" My voice probably rose through a whole solfége scale of octaves in that one stupid word. At least, that was what it sounded like in retrospect. "How did you meet this Rebecca? I'm curious.... Was she by any chance trying, and/or sent to kill you?" Almost as soon as I'd started, I stopped pushing.
Backing away - wow - you must be paranoid, I told myself.
"Getting this weird nagging feeling that I shouldn't ask any more now, though. Call it an art I've mastered..." I justified myself with a raised eyebrow.
The one thing I wasn't sure of was to whom.

Cecilia
Now now, my dear Mercy, don't be anxious. I see that Rebecca isn't exactly the norm for your sort of relationships, which is fine on its own--do you have any particular love interest yourself? Perhaps theirs is a more interesting story to tell compared to Rebeccas.

Amy

*breathes*

Schadel:

Sorry I was away for so long. My author is in the process of rewriting my story, so they've been focused on that.
Because of what I mentioned earlier, the death business hasn't really been coming along...*sweatdrops* I've bought the agency, and am in the process of trying to convince the ghost that's been living there for over a century that she would enjoy being my assistant.
And Amy, are you okay?

Cecilia

A pain in the neck isn't it? Some people just won't get along. *chuckles softly* In your case, ghosts are tricky business. If you can't threaten them with death, what can you do?

Amy

UH, yeah! Just uh, have nothing to contribute! Hah, um y-yeah

Cecilia

Something wrong, Miss Amy? You seem somewhat distressed. Now, we can't have any of that. Here, have some--*looks at empty pot of tea* Oh, well never mind that. I'll get you an orange juice after this. Tell us what's on your mind, dear.

Amy

Ah, it's fine, I'm really not thirsty. I just wasn't really expecting the conversation to go where it did. For one, I have no, um, "partner" to talk about, and I also don't have a job, really. So, ya know, *shrugs* I just don't have much to say is all!

Sarah

Ooh, such a nice place. What're you guys talking about? *a golden light floats beside her*

Cecilia

Light! Light! Ah, how I both love and hate it. What is that beside you, dear?

Schadel:

Hi Sarah! Nice to meet you! *grins and holds out hand* We're just talking about our lives, I guess.

I don't usually threaten ghosts, to be honest. And even if they were alive, I still wouldn't threaten them with death. I could never kill someone, and claiming that I would goes against my morals.

I usually try talking to them. If that doesn't work, I get my kind-of-big-sister Blanx to help me. That's usually a last resort, though. She hates having to leave her shop.

Sarah

Oh hi! Oh my gosh, how do you know my name? *shakes hands with stunned expression before turning to the lady*

Oh, this? It's... my friend from another world. She's a royalty. My author has a tendency towards fantasy.

Sunglow

And I have a name. It is Sunglow. Nice to meet you, Miss...?