Second Trial

[yourghosthost]

[Just like last week, as soon as everyone’s done investigating and back in the stretching room, the doors close and everyone slowly descends. As it does so, the Ghost Host's voice once again echoes across the room.]

Tell me. Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it just your imagination?

[This is apparently a thing he does.

When it stops, everyone is once again welcomed to the graveyard 25 tombstones arranged in a circle. Now there are three new epitaphs to the newly dearly departed Mulan, Princess Anna, and Sophie. They are dressed with their own rose and class of cognac to each of their tombstone.

Here lies Ping Mulan
Wanted to do anything for honor
It’s a shame she is now a goner

Here lies Princess Anna
She stumbled upon a bride’s wedding
And earned herself a nice beheading

Here lies Sophie Hatter
She was a wonderful little maid
But sadly went and got betrayed

When everyone goes to their places, the Ghost Host speaks again.]

I suppose you all remember from last week how this works. Remember you only have one vote.

[Well there’s only one way to go now.]

Comments

[sixfingeredstan]

No—, I...Can you just remove your vest so we can see the cloth underneath?

[help them]

[toogoodforhim]

I--

[Lefou comes over to Ford, at least so that he can do this up close. He unbuttons his blue-and-silver waistcoat and drapes it carefully over the man's headstone, and then hesitates when it comes to untucking his shirt.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Well this is

intimate

okay.

A frown tugs at Ford's face, and he nods encouragingly at Lefou.]

Go on.

[toogoodforhim]

[Lefou clenches his eyes shut and lifts the shirt up out of his breeches (how improper!) all the way around, revealing a flash of his soft midriff - and the dark, ring-shaped scar on his stomach.

His shirt is completely intact, even if his scrubbing has started to wear it a little thin.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[...Oh, honey, no, what happened.

Ford nods, and averts his eyes politely so Lefou can get himself sorted again.]

Thank you, my friend.

[toogoodforhim]

[His face is bright red with embarrassment, staring down at his breeches as he tucks his shirt back in and pulls the waistcoat back on before shuffling back to his own headstone, feeling different.]

...Of course.