The ghost gaped at Hot Rod in shock. The spirit almost looked as if he had never met someone who could see him. The spirit demanded, "You can see me?"

Hot Rod rolled his optics, "Of course I can see you! I have the Sight!"

"You have the Sight?" the ghost said in awe.

Hot Rod nearly groaned, "That's just what I said!"

The ghost was staring at him in complete awe and delight. It was pretty clear that this spirit had never once been seen by anyone else. And now the reason the company that was supposed to unpack his stuff didn't was made clear.

This ghost had probably scared the crap out of them. Hot Rod placed a servo over his optics and rubbed them tiredly in annoyance. Of course, this would end up happening to him.

Of course, he would end up renting a house that was haunted by a ghost. That was just Hot Rod's luck. He wondered briefly why his new land lord hadn't said anything about the ghost. But he shook it off and turned his attention back to the spirit.

"Ok, why did you stay behind?" he asked.

"Stay behind?" the spirit said, looking rather confused.

Hot Rod wanted to smack himself upside the helm, but he kept himself calm, "Why didn't you move on? Why are you still here?"

"Oh," the spirit said, voice becoming rather sad. "I. . . I can't tell you."

Hot Rod frowned at that. That was somewhat unusual all things considered. Most spirits that Hot Rod had spoken to before had been all too willing to tell him what exactly was keeping them in the living world after death.

"Why?" he asked, still feeling a little confused. "Why can't you tell me?"

"Just can't," the spirit said.

Hot Rod stared at the ghost for a moment longer before he sighed and rubbed his helm, "Alright. Can you at least tell me your name?"

The ghost brightened at that, "Oh, yes! My name is Drift!"

"Drift," Hot Rod said, filing away the name so that he could research about the mech later at the Archives. "It's very nice to meet you, Drift."

"What's your name?" asked Drift excitedly.

"I'm Hot Rod," Hot Rod told him, feeling a little bit of amusement at the excitement in the spirits voice and optics.

The spirit floated closer to him and grinned happily, "It's a pleasure to meet you Hot Rod!"

Hot Rod let out a small sigh but smiled kindly at Drift, before saying, "Alright, Drift. Since we both live here now, can I ask you not to throw my stuff around?"

Drift pouted for a long moment before brightening and saying, "Sure, I won't throw your stuff around! But you have to talk to me! I only throw things around cause I'm bored and. . ."

"Okay," Hot Rod said. "I get it. I don't see why we can't talk. How about the next time your bored you throw everything that isn't mine around, okay?"

The spirit nodded happily at that and then followed Hot Rod out of the room and out into the hallway. He stopped right next to Hot Rod as he continued to unpack his boxes into the closet and began to watch him.

Hot Rod was almost uncomfortable under the gaze but endeavored to ignore the strange, secretive spirit and continue put his stuff away. The spirit moved a little closer to the closet and said softly, "What. . . what do you do?"

Hot Rod froze at the crappy attempt at making small talk and nearly broke out laughing. Clearly Drift hadn't been able to talk to anyone for a very long time. That was the only reason he would ask such an awkward question.

But Hot Rod was nice enough to not make fun of the spirit for it. Instead he just said, "I work for a crystal seller. It's not exactly what my creators wanted for me, but I haven't talked to them since I turned down a job at the Temple."

"The Temple?" Drift's voice sounded oddly strained as he spoke.

"Yeah," Hot Rod said, vocalizer growing darker as he added. "They attempted to conscript me into service there cause I have the Sight. But I told them no. I haven't been to a Temple since."

"That's. . ." Drift began, sounding slightly nervous. "That's good."

Hot Rod paused and looked over at Drift, saying, "Huh. Most mechs say that I'm an idiot for turning down a job at the Temple. My creators certainly did."

"No," Drift said quietly. "You're not an idiot."

"You're the first mech to think so," Hot Rod muttered. Then he added to himself, "And you're not even alive. Frag my life."

Drift cracked a little smile making it seem like he had heard exactly what Hot Rod had muttered to himself. He shifted for a moment before he floated a little closer, whispering, "I just don't like the Temple's actions. The Priests do bad things and the mechs that serve them do bad things."

"Oh," Hot Rod said, as he shoved his last spare blanket into the closet. "What do you know about it?"

Drift fell silent and didn't say anything else to Hot Rod about the Temple. Instead he asked, "Have you always had the Sight?"

Hot Rod frowned subtly as he shut the closet door, optics beginning to narrow. Curiouser and curiouser. He quickly erased that expression from his faceplate and turned to head downstairs being followed by Drift as he answered.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, I played with Pixies and Selkies when I was very young, before my creators moved us to Iacon."

"Really?" Drift said in slight awe. "I've never seen a Selkie before. What are they like?"

Hot Rod shrugged, "Don't really remember. It was a long time ago. I think they were friendly and playful, though."

"Oh," Drift said as they reached the first floor.

Hot Rod stepped into the hallway to check to be sure everything was put away. He froze and turned to face Drift, a sour expression on his face plate.

Drift smiled winningly and then disappeared.

Hot Rod groaned in annoyance and turned to put everything from the bottom floor of his new house back into the place he had put it.

Because Drift had put everything back into the boxes and stacked them back in the hallway.

Damn ghost.

1111111111111111

It had taken Hot Rod a good extra two joors to put everything Drift had moved back to where it belonged. And then he had finally crawled into berth, tired beyond belief. And then his internal alarm had woken him up four joors later, telling him that he needed to get ready for work.

Hot Rod groaned and sat up in the berth, rubbing his optics angrily.

He was going to be furious if Drift had done anything else in the last four joors.

Thankfully, when Hot Rod went downstairs, Drift hadn't done anything else. Hot Rod headed towards the kitchen and began to prep his cube. He had a long day today and he needed the nourishment.

As Hot Rod reached towards his cube of Energon, it moved up into the air and nearly clipped the top of his helm.

Hot Rod cursed angrily, "Drift! Put down my cube! Your going to make me late to work!"

The cube bobbed and danced in the air and Hot Rod watched as Drift flickered into existence, holding the cube up above Hot Rod's helm. The spirit was smirking lightly and snickering with mild delight at the look of complete annoyance on Hot Rod's faceplate.

Drift giggled lightly as he said, "But it's fun!"

"And I need to get to work," Hot Rod countered.

Drift tilted his helm to the side and said, "Your too serious, Roddy. You need to learn how to have fun."

"Having fun doesn't pay the bills," Hot Rod said snidely, as he remembered when he was younger and quite a party bot as they say.

"Neither does being serious all the time," Drift said brightly. "Lighten up a little. It's all just good fun."

Hot Rod huffed and rubbed his optics for a brief moment before he held out his servo and said, "Please give me back my cube."

Drift huffed a little at that but did give Hot Rod back the cube.

Hot Rod practically inhaled the cube and turned to rush over to the door. He was blocked by Drift who gave him a pouty look and said, "But you haven't even said good-bye to me yet, Roddy!"

Hot Rod sighed softly to himself so that Drift wouldn't hear his clear frustration. Then he said, "Sorry, Drift. I was in a hurry. I'll see you tonight. Try not to destroy the house, please."

Drift gave him a bright grin as he floated aside and said, brightly, "No promises, Roddy. Have a good day at work!"

Hot Rod gave a small nod and smile and then rushed out the door.

1111111111111111

Hot Rod rushed into his place of work and called out to his employer, "I'm sorry! I had a late-night last night! Didn't mean to recharge as much as I did and woke up late!"

Myst turned to face him and gave him a fond smile, saying calmly, "Don't worry about it Hot Rod. Hound's not coming in today."

Hot Rod let out a relieved breath of air. Of his two bosses, Hound was more likely to give him a scolding over coming in late and Myst was more likely to accept his word for what happened. So, it was a relief, when he did come in late that when Hound wasn't in yet or not coming in at all.

Hot Rod gathered up the package of crystal arrangement orders that needed to be done today and asked, "Did something happen last night?"

Myst let out a soft huff, "Surprisingly, no. Hound just decided to overindulge and has a processor ache this morning."

"Huh," Hot Rod said a small smirk growing on his faceplate before he added, "Hey, Myst, the only time he overindulges. . ."

"Yes, I know Hot Rod," she said sharply. "You will keep that to yourself, understood?"

"Sure, boss," Hot Rod said cheerfully as he turned back to his work, joining one of the other morning employees and starting on his assigned arrangements.

Hot Rod got off in five joors for lunch. When he had that lunch, he was going to head off site to the Archives. Then he would find out what he could about Drift.

Now he just had to survive the next five joors.