A/N: For the 12 Days of Christmas Style Challenge (3 crack!fics, 2/3)
He drifts by for what must be the hundredth time in less than an hour. But he cannot resist his path. She calls to him without even saying a word.
She is beautiful.
In life, he had never met anyone like her. So real, so lovely, so alive. In death, he had assumed he'd no longer have the desire to find someone to complete him.
His heart no longer beats, but if it could, it would beat only for her.
"Nick," the Fat Lady sighs as he passes her again. "What are you doing?"
"Drifting."
She snorts, adjusting her position within her frame, her painted eyes watching him with amusement. "I can see that," she says. "But there's a whole castle to drift through."
He opens his mouth. He should tell her. Perhaps she would understand. She might even be flattered to know that someone appreciates her beauty as he does.
The words won't budge. Instead, he nods, turning around. "Yes. Yes, of course you're right, my dear lady."
He had been a coward when he had chosen to remain after death, and the years hadn't eased his cowardice.
