WEEK 5

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Wander and Sylvia are dead, the Ghost Host was snuffed out like a light, and Tarzan is nowhere to be seen. It seems like in an instant everything is changed, not just the circumstances, but the mansion itself. It feels like it's gotten significantly colder in the mansion, and you might also start seeing bugs out of the corner of you eyes, darting away into darkness the moment you try to focus on them.

And, starting this week, any and all ghosts are eerily absent but at the same time, no matter where you go, you feel like you're being watched by something. To make matters worse, the attic doors have been nailed open. 

But there are some bright spots in this week. When you wake up on Sunday, you'll find that you have a brand new tuxedo hanging up on your bedroom door, in your exact size. Later, if you're curious enough to try going from the second floor to the attic, you'll find that there's a whole new floor to explore, but this time it's just comprised of two rooms: a smallish but serviceable laundry room and an expansive casino with an attached bar.

Don't tell Jiminy about this he will have a heart attack.

Feel free to explore, but maybe you want to keep away from the Stretching Room for awhile. Somebody cut the noose on the hanging corpse.

17 guests remain.]

[ SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY ]

{OOC: Don't forget to fill our your Week 4 Activity Check!}

Comments

[sixfingeredstan]

[It hurts to hear that, because Ford knows all too well that drinking to excess isn't good for a man, but at the same time—he's been coping the same way. He understands.

And what hurts even more is he can't do what he'd like to do and comfort Fiddleford physically. He's got to play it cool, which is getting increasingly harder.]

You're not selfish. Wanting to be okay doesn't make you selfish, Fiddleford. And I say that as someone who...would know.

[Listen. He's been selfish as hell. He might not want to outright admit that, but he sure as hell knows it by now.]

That's alright. We can talk about it later, if you like.

[terribibble]

Mm.

[It's a frightening prospect, talking about it. The more he talks about it the more real it is. The more inevitable. He hates it.

Best to just leave the subject be.]

You don't mind me readin' your book, do you? I've been bein' careful with it.

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford bobs his head thoughtfully, letting the topic fade as it will, and doesn't glance up again until Fiddleford asks about his book.]

Hmm? Oh—by all means. I've read it cover to cover at least nine times. Funny how you keep pulling my things out of that machine, isn't it.

[terribibble]

What, not twelve?

[He's trying to joke, honestly.]

[sixfingeredstan]

N—

[He cuts off, realizing exactly what he's saying, and gives him a Look.]

Cute. Very cute.

[But he's trying, and it warms Ford's heart, it really does.]

[terribibble]

Y'know nobody's ever called me cute before.

[Boys. Boys come on. Don't flirt at a wake.

I mean, what, it's not flirting. It's just normal best friend teasing. Platonic.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[It's okay. Nobody notices, probably.

Ford lifts his eyebrows up at Fiddleford, the corner of his mouth curling upward.]

Well, there's a first time for everything.

[terribibble]

[Everybody notices. Someone ten miles away probably notices.]

Naw. I just think all the stress is gettin' to you. Makin' you talk nonsense.

[sixfingeredstan]

Me? Nonsense? I'm a man of science. I'm just speaking from observation, here.

[Save Them]

[terribibble]

A single biased observation doesn't a solid theory make. Your methods are sloppy is what they are.

[sixfingeredstan]

My methods, sloppy? [Ford tuts.] Who says I'm saying this based on a single observation, anyway?

[terribibble]

Tell you what. You get me some citations and then I'll listen.

[This is nice. It's also really, really stupid, but he can't feel bad for enjoying having this easy back-and-forth when it's one of the few things keeping him sane in this house. It's good to have this with Ford again after how far into the pits their relationship sunk.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Oh, challenge accepted. Ford turns to face frontward without another word, pulling his notebook and pen out of his coat pocket and setting to work scribbling furiously with his tongue between his teeth. Occasionally, he bumps a shoulder against Fiddleford's knee, possibly on accident, probably just for an excuse to touch him.

Ten minutes later, he's ripping the page from his notebook triumphantly; it's covered front and back, and the back page is halfway taken up with meticulously numbered citations. There's even a needlessly complicated equation thrown in there for good measure. He passes it up to Fiddleford behind his shoulder without a word.]

[terribibble]

[Fiddleford goes back to reading Cosmos while Ford sits there making a dingus of himself, and it's only when Ford is shoving the paper at him that he looks up again. He takes it, scans it briefly, and lets out a tired wheeze that's close enough to a laugh to be getting on with. Under the circumstances it's damn near jovial.]

Lord have mercy. I can't believe you. Now I know this is all just because you're tired enough to be hysterical.

[He feels a little wobbly himself. Everything's been so surreal for so long and he keeps teetering on the verge of breaking down and just letting it wash over him. He won't, because it's not in his nature to give up, but sometimes (like now) it becomes very tempting.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[That's close enough to a laugh in Ford's opinion, and he considers it a job well done if he's managed to be that much of a distraction. He turns, leaning an elbow on the arm of Fiddleford's chair, and fixes him with a very incredulous look, adjusting his glasses on his face.]

Hysterical? Why, this is a culmination of fifty years' observation and thought. I put a lot of hard work into this!

[He jabs at the paper to punctuate his point.]

Of course, the scientific method is iterative, so I can always use more testing. But I believe it's a solid theory.

[terribibble]

Well you do have an awful lot of citations and all. Mainly from the same source but I'll let that slide.

[His smile softens, then wavers. It's hard to really stay in a good mood here, especially at a time like this, but he appreciates even the most fleeting moments of it all the same.]

[sixfingeredstan]

Well, I am rather limited in resources at the moment.

[He'll take that smile, brief as it is. It's something. It means everything isn't as terrible as it could be.

Ford's fingers twitch, like he wants to reach over and take Fiddleford's hand, but he restrains himself. Not here.]