Beetlejuice doesn't belong to me. If you want to split hairs, I don't know exactly who he belongs to… Tim Burton, The Geffen Film Company, whoever wrote the myriad of scripts… (Probably not that last.) It's all legal techno-babble to me, and I don't know much about that stuff. I do know enough not to claim he's mine, or try to make money off him, or I'm screwed. Which sucks. I mean, who wouldn't want to make a living doing what they love? But I guess I should just be grateful I can do it at all… Where would I be, if I couldn't? …Probably doing it anyway, but if anyone asks, I'll deny it. You'll vouch for me, right?

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Okay, odd chapter, I don't deny it. But there's more Beetlejuice action in this one, than the last. Which got very few reviews, people. :( Incidentally, how do you view Beetlejuice? More as an irreverent trickster, or a feral timebomb? I do try to strike a balance... That doesn't mean it actually works, but I do try.

Happy Holidays! I give you this chapter to read, as a present, now you give me nice reviews to read, as presents!

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"May, we speak for a moment, Miss Lydia?" It made her stomach seize a little, how utterly uncertain he sounded. As if he didn't think he even had the right to talk to her anymore, now that she'd brushed him to the side. "If you aren't busy, that is?"

"I'm, in bed." She said slowly, sitting up. Oh god, Barb could come back at like any second… "I'm not feeling too well today."

A hesitation, then, with a trace of the strength she'd heard in his voice a time or two before, "Have you been harmed again, my Lydia? Has someone laid hands on you?" All protective and possessive again, just as if he still took personal responsibility in her well being…

It should have puzzled her, his assumption, but the fact was that it didn't. She'd had a habit of getting herself into tight spots, even longer than she'd known the prince… They'd first met in fact, when she was still half covered in bruises from one of her recent 'indiscretions.' It really wasn't strange for him to assume that she'd just gotten into trouble again. Which, in a way, she supposed she had. "I'm just a little sick," She denied, throwing off her lovingly tucked blanket, and crossing to her mirror. "I-"

"Ill?" Now he sounded truly alarmed, and proved it in fact, by appearing in her mirror visibly, rather than just as a voice. He'd never done that before, without being certain she was dressed first. "My Lydia, is it serious? Are you in pain?"

"It's, just a cold." She denied, said cold then taking that opportunity to make her sneeze. She covered her nose, relieved not to end up with a handful of flem, and cast him a little, awkward smile. "Nothing that won't be gone in a day or two."

"Oh… thank goodness." She wasn't certain though, if he sounded more relieved, or disappointed. If he was disappointed that she wasn't on her death bed, then it was the most selfish emotion he'd ever expressed to her… And she was a little beside herself, how to feel about it. "Lydia, if you're that unwell, I can speak to you another time, I suppose. That is," A small pause, and a sad gleam to his dark eyes, "If you still wish to speak with me?"

"Sure." She grabbed the chair from her desk, and dragged it up to her dresser, figuring they might as well get the awkward first conversation after breakup, out of the way. He was someone she still cared about, and after even just the last few days apart, she realized she didn't want him to just disappear, now that it was over. "But now's okay." A hesitation, as she dreaded the answer to her next words. "How are you holding up?"

His gaze turned thoughtful, the stance of his lips just a trace more regretful. "Well, I have not been happy… But I suppose that must go without saying, my- Ah, Miss Lydia. Still," A soft sigh escaped him, "I cannot say that it caught me entirely by surprise. I had suspected that, you were no longer as happy with me, as you once were." A moment to let this sink in, and her to squirm uncomfortably, before he asked quietly, "Lydia, did I do something wrong?"

Did he do something wrong? No. He didn't do anything. And she felt like an idiot, because now she'd had her first kiss and everything, even kissed a couple of guys, so got that whole milestone out of the way, and… And now she wasn't even sure that was the real reason she'd broken up with him at all. Certainly it wasn't an excuse she could give him.

But she did have to give him an answer. "Vincent," She began slowly, still working out the words in her head, even as she said them, "I'm almost sixteen now… I know that's not that old, but that's kind of the point. I mean," Was there a delicate way to say this? "You're the only guy I've ever dated, you know?"

He considered her at length, as if expecting there must be something more. Then, when it became clear that this was all she had to say, he smiled, a truly heartbreaking smile, and murmured, "And you Lydia, are the only girl I have ever loved."

His words hit her kind of like a fork through her forehead, and she was left dumbly for a moment, trying to find words that wouldn't make the declaration he'd just made, sound utterly rejected. Because of course, she honestly didn't know if she could say it back. She'd liked him, liked him… But love? Or just, a really close friend, that never quite became something more? God, he'd never said he loved her before…

"Guess there's not much to say, to something like that." She said at last, painfully quiet. "Look, Vincent, I'm only fifteen." Not sixteen… Not yet… "I just can't see planning out the rest of my life now. Spending forever with the first guy who gave a damn about me, without knowing what I want. You know?"

That sounded pathetic, even to her, and yet it was the closest thing she could figure to the truth. It certainly didn't help, the sympathetic set to his mouth, like everything she was saying made perfect sense… When he'd told her himself, that he would have married her years ago, if she'd let him. But at the moment, he seemed to be honestly thinking this through. "Then, you simply do wish to court other men?" He asked, clearly choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps to compare, to see if I am truly the one you wish to spend your eternity with?"

Well damn, there was another fork between the eyes… And a hella big word. Eternity. And of course, before she could think of a remotely sane answer to this prompting, he looked at her with what might even have been called a gleam of hope to his eyes. "I see… I simply moved too quickly." Which of course, was the one thing he hadn't done. "Then, may I continue to court you as well? To perhaps hasten your decision?"

As if there was simply no other possible outcome, than her running back to him… And he of course, would have her with open arms. All forgiven. Fuck. And all she could do was wish to god she could look away from those warm dark eyes, and say softly, "I don't think so, Vincent."

And there it was, the hope drowning in his suddenly desperately lonely eyes, as if she'd just told him she had no intention of ever seeing him again. "Is it…?" He began, then paused, and looked as if he didn't know himself if this was what he should be saying. "Is it because I'm, 'too nice,' Lydia?"

"What?" She blinked in surprise, only to have him feign a smile, and mutter something under his breath, about what someone had said to him. "What?" She pressed again, a little more frustrated this time. Nice? He thought she was dumping him because he was nice?

He cleared his throat, not quite meeting her gaze anymore. "Some of my extended family… They informed me that, well, those not of noble birth, might consider my mannerisms and behavior… too nice. I'm not certain of the meaning myself. Perhaps, that you found me too stiff? Or boring?"

"You were never boring!" Lydia snapped, suddenly angry with his family, who'd never even been willing to meet her, and never liked her anyway, simply because she was alive, feeding off the prince's already insecure nature. As if just because she was common, she couldn't possibly appreciate a guy like him, and so somehow it was all his fault, for liking her in the first place. "The best part of you is that you're a nice guy, and not like all the assholes other girls have to deal with!"

"And what's more," She went on, her voice building right along with her frustration, while he just stared at her in surprise, "If I was really that kind of person, I wouldn't be sitting here feeling like a complete jerk about how I treated you, just so we could still be friends! I'd just run the other way so fast, it'd make your royal head spin!"

She pretty much ran out of breath at this point, and just glowered down at her hands, before she was gripped by another sneezing fit, and had to run for some tissues, to avoid what would have been a rather embarrassing mess. "Shit…" She muttered under her breath, wiping her nose, not willing to go all honking and just blow, with him right there. And why the hell did she even care?

"I've upset you, and you're already unwell…" He sounded angry with himself, but before he could go any further, she spun on him, eyes flashing.

"Stop being so hard on yourself, right now!" She snapped, not really angry with him, but his damned royal family. "Look, you have been nothing but great," She went on, her voice dropping a little as she reined in her temper, "And I don't want to lose you as a friend. But right now, I don't even know… If you're even going to let me keep coming to the neitherworld. I mean, I wouldn't blame you, if you didn't…"

"Why wouldn't I?" He sounded genuinely confused. "Lydia, I've always considered the neitherworld as much your home as mine… I had hoped you felt the same way."

Once again, there was nothing to say to that. "I kind of thought you'd say that." She agreed, wishing for one wild moment that she felt different. That she could just go running back to him, and be happy with that. But she didn't feel different. And the truth was, she didn't know if she really ever had. "So… Friends?"

"Friends." He agreed softly, looking oddly relieved. "I don't know what I would do, if I simply lost you completely, dear Lydia… And perhaps, as your friend, I will have a way to prove I am worthy of more."

Well, if that made him happy… She'd deal with it later, anyway. In fact, before she could worry about it any further, she heard a knock on the door as this time Barbara, thankfully, didn't simply barge in. Her heart in her throat, she sprang up, and ran to the heavy wooden door, throwing her body against it with a little squeak. "Don't come in! I'm talking to Vincent!" It was just such a natural thing to say, that it never even occurred to her to lie…

"Oh, good." Barbara should not have sounded that relieved. "I'll be back in a few minutes then… Give this soup time to cool." And then her footsteps, leading away…

Just about spread-eagled against the door, Lydia cast a sort of desperate grin to Vincent, who looked a bit puzzled, though he didn't question it. He was quite used to her hiding her connection to the neitherworld, of course… But he never seemed to get over finding it strange. "Then, we are, all right?" He pressed after a moment, as she walked back up to the mirror, clearly deciding that the best tactic was simply to ignore the display she'd just offered.

Lydia nodded, but before she could say anything more on the matter, she was interrupted yet again. This time by a solid, weighty thump from behind her, and an exaggerated yawn. "Wow babes, don't know about you, but I've had a helluva- What the hell are you wearing?" There it was, the distinct annoyance she'd been aiming for when she put on this outfit, only at the moment, it really wasn't her biggest focus of attention.

"What are you doing on Lydia's bed?" The prince's voice suddenly found reason to rise itself, as he leaned forward in the mirror, eyes flashing at the sight of the ghost with the most, appearing randomly on her mattress. "What right do you have-?"

"Prince-arino…" Beetlejuice tore his eyes from her only reluctantly, finally took in the sight of her ex in the mirror, and looked first cross, then amused. "Hell, I don't think you have much say over who's in her bed anymore, your royal lowness… Not sure you ever did." He paused for a moment to pick at his fingernails with his teeth, cross-legged, while Vincent fumed over how to respond to this. "Seriously, I'd say you forfeited boyfriend privileges a hell of a long time before babes there dumped you…"

"And what is that supposed to mean?" The prince asked coldly. The fact that he'd never liked Beetlejuice was one he'd never bothered to conceal, but at the moment, the both of them were about equally pissing her off.

"Stop it!" She groaned, putting her hand to her head. "I'm sick enough without getting a headache from you two going at each other's throats!"

Beetlejuice's eyebrows flew up, and so did his gaze, as he forgot his grimy nails for a moment. "Hell Lyds, didn't think you got sick. That why you're all swathed up like the dead? Hold on." He got to his feet, sort of, as such feet never quite touched the ground, and drifted over to her, a thoughtful sort of look on his face.

As she looked at him in puzzlement, he proceeded to pull a doctor's stethoscope out of his pocket, stuck the ends in his ears, and before she could protest, had the other side pressed against the scant sliver of bare skin at her chest. "Go on, breathe for me, babes." He urged, lips curled in just the faintest crack of a grin, well aware he was about an inch from feeling her up, and well aware that she knew it too, and was trying not to blush.

"You are not a doctor, Beetlejuice!" Vincent snapped, taking away any need for her to offer the protest. "Remove your hands from her this instant!"

"Best friend here, buddy." Beetlejuice informed him with an absent mutter, utterly without any regard for his station at all. "Trumps ex-boyfriend every time. Deep breath, Lyds…" Not sure what else to do, Lydia obeyed, and almost instantly let out a deep, chest rattling cough, one she hadn't even known was building. Beetlejuice's eyebrows flew up again. "Well hell, that's not good…"

"It's just a cold." She muttered under her breath, pushing away his hands, which she did not trust not to wander.

"Lots of things start out as colds, babes… Here, hold still." He shoved the stethoscope in his pocket, rubbed his hands together, and got a sort of intense frown to his features. "Now, I'm not feeling you up, babes… Wouldn't bother with an excuse, if that was what I had in mind… Just stand there, and try not to freak out on me. This is gonna be a little cold…"

Lydia opened her mouth to protest, behind her she could hear Vincent already doing just this, when suddenly Beetlejuice clapped both hands around her, one flat against her back, one hard against her chest… And she was seized with a ripping sense of cold that shot through her from head to toe, making every hair stand on end, and a little squeak of surprise escape her lips.

Beetlejuice just grinned, letting her go a little more slowly than necessary, and took the stethoscope out of his pocket once more. "All right then, let's try that again." The cold instrument against her chest. "Breathe for me, babes."

It really wasn't necessary though, every ounce of congestion had left her body, and Lydia already knew it. She could breathe through her nose. The tickle in the back of her throat was gone. And what's more, even the headache that had been building for the past hour or so had faded completely. "Shit!" She hissed, taking the deep breath for him nonetheless, though said breath's only purpose seemed to be to give him an excuse to stare at her inflating chest. "How'd you do that?"

"Ghost with the most, babes. How many times I gotta tell you?" Still, he looked inordinately pleased with himself, though that was pretty much his usual expression. "Now what the hell would you do without me around, Lyds…?"

"I could have done that," The prince interrupted with a steely voice, reminding them both of his presence, "Had I simply known it was possible. And was it really necessary to manhandle her that way?"

"Huh." Finally the poltergeist seemed to grow annoyed with the extra company, and gave Vincent as serious a look as she'd ever seen on his normally humorous face. "Probably not. But you don't know either fucking way, do you? I mean," And here his voice dropped, becoming just a little more possessive than usual over the goth girl, "You got just as much fucking power as I do, right? You just never bothered learning to use it."

"I have never seen cause to abuse the powers granted to me by-!" Vincent snapped, actually furious, something she hadn't seen in him in a helluva long time, only to be interrupted, again.

"Yeah, well, Lyds likes a little abuse of power, don't you babes?" Beetlejuice growled, clearly beginning to lose patience as well. "Likes it when a guy knows what he wants, and goes for it… But I guess you wouldn't know shit about that, would you?"

There was no way this could end well, and Lydia could only try to interpose herself between the two, cutting off their macho staring contest, if nothing else. This didn't however, stop Vincent from noting, in a furious hiss, "How the two of us could ever share-!"

"A place in our babes's heart?" Beetlejuice countered with a sneer, only to turn his back on both, and before she knew what he was doing, grab the blanket from her bed, and heave it in one smooth throw over the mirror. "Bottom line, buddy… We don't. Not anymore." Then he hooked her by the arm, and with exactly the same note of challenge and contempt in his voice, added, "Now see, I'm gonna need a little private time with Lyds now… Be a good little ex, and crawl away!"

"Filthy beast!" She heard him offer from behind the curtains, right before his voice faded completely. "I refuse to waste my time!"

"See babes," Beetlejuice noted to her, suddenly far calmer, "He thinks fighting over you is a waste of time. Well hell, you know I'd never give up that easily!" He seemed quite surprised when her only answer to this was a heavy stomp to his foot, and in fact, made a sound of outrage, staggering back. "What the hell, babes?" He demanded, angry again.

"What the hell was that about?" She countered, angry herself, confused, and more than a little overwhelmed. "You two acting like a couple half-wild dogs fighting over a favorite chew toy?" She advanced on him, making him scowl, and take a step back, but not make an answering move against her. "I can understand where he's coming from… At least I think I can… But you? What makes you think you have that kind of claim on me?"

His eyes narrowed, a gleam there she couldn't exactly read, but something hot and deep that made her gut lurch, and made her forget her anger. "You were mine first, babes." Was all he said though, very quietly, right before he vanished before her eyes.

Even as she tried to process this, there was a knock on her door again, that made her spin in that direction with her heart in her throat, and her chest burning. "Lydia? Can I come in now? Your soup's going to get cold…"

She had one instant to think. To plan this through, to figure this out… She grabbed a dry coat from the closet, threw it on, and pressed past Barbara, standing in the doorway, with as little explanation as possible. "I'm going out!"

"But you're sick!" Barbara protested, trying to follow her, without spilling the aforementioned soup. "You're only going to make yourself worse!"

"I'm going out!" She said it louder this time, her voice strained, and before the female ghost could stop her, she was already through the front door, crossing the barrier that Barbara could never follow her past. She was aware of the woman behind her, yelling, but in that moment only two things mattered. She needed to clear her head…

And she needed to find Beetlejuice.

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"Fuck." Beetlejuice grumbled, once again wishing to god he could just get drunk, like the living. "Stupid Prince Vince, Damn Lyds…" He stared into his double-shot of whiskey, like the answers lay in the bottom of the glass of amber liquid, lips drawn up into an annoyed little scowl. "Whole fucking thing is just-"

"Girl problems?" The bartender prompted, looking far too fucking amused for Beetlejuice's tastes. "Aren't you usually the one that causes those?" Just as the poltergeist was about to come up with a wiseass remark though, another tumbler was pushed at him, and grudgingly, he let the other's good humor go. "So, you finally found one to break your heart, huh?"

"Don't know what you're talking about, buddy." Beetlejuice denied, downing his double, then reaching for the next without pause, and swallowing that down too. "Women are nothing but fucking trouble… Can't decide if you're their best friend, or the guy they want to jump their bones, or just the poor slob they wanna kick around."

"Best friend?" The bartender made a sound of amusement, starting to pour another, and pausing as the ghost simply grabbed the bottle instead, and took a swig out of that. "Well, I assume you're not talking about Stacy…"

Beetlejuice looked up at him blearily, not from drink, but from an utterly frustrated mood. "Who?" He demanded shortly, only to have even the bartender look disapproving, and shake his head. "What? Oh, her." He made a face, and ran his fingers through his mop of hair. "Damn, I was supposed to see her today, wasn't I? Ah, what the hell ever. Get me some scotch while you're at it."

"Even you can drink yourself to death." The guy, whose name Beetlejuice had never bothered to learn, despite many conversations like this, reached under the bar, and pulled up a bottle of scotch nonetheless. "And you're paying for that whole bottle of whiskey, by the way."

"Yeah, whatever." Beetlejuice poured himself a shot, picked up the glass between thumb and forefinger, and grunted. "Gotta ask you… You ever had a chick really get under your skin? I mean, you find yourself thinking about her all the time, and it ain't even naked… You realize you'd hang around with the broad even if you didn't have a chance in hell at her?"

"I have." The man assured him, his gaze more than a little distasteful. "You on the other hand, I don't buy ever feeling like that."

"What the fuck do you know?" Beetlejuice grumbled, sucking down the fiery liquid, and reaching for the bottle again. "What the hell does she know? Treating her like a chew toy, she says. Acting like a wild dog. Didn't chew out that ex of hers for acting the ass… Course not. He can do no wrong. Stupid son-of-a-bitch spouting stuff that oughta stay unsaid…" He fixed his confidant with a steady glare. "Some things are better unsaid, you know?"

"Sure, whatever." The man, just about the only person in Winter River that Beetlejuice had any regular dealings with, other than Lydia, left him where he sat, and went to get a leggy redhead at the end of the bar her drink.

Beetlejuice considered the chick for a moment, utterly uninterested, for once, in pursuing the already alcohol-sodden woman. She'd been there even longer than him… Easy score. Any other night, he'd jump on it. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Beej?" Beetlejuice blinked, certain for a moment that he'd heard wrong, then looked puzzledly at the shot of amber fluid, as if this might be what was addressing him. Not because he was drunk, he wasn't, but because it was just so unexpected. "Hey, over here." Lydia pulled herself onto the stool next to him, swathed in a black coat, still buried in her shapeless gray sweats, a little twist of amusement to her lips. "Guess it works both ways, huh?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" He grumbled, a little amused to see the ever incorrigible teen wandering into the local bar without so much as a glance either way.

"That binding you put on me." She answered easily, propping her chin on her knuckles, and regarding him like he was just so damn fascinating… "This time, I followed it to you. Didn't know I could do that, did you?"

"Huh." He considered her sideways, then belatedly, held up the bottle. "So, you gonna join me in a drink, or what, Lyds?"

"I'm underage, Beej." She informed him calmly, following the glint of liquor with her eyes, briefly, before turning her gaze back to him. "Look, I… I wanted to apologize." His eyebrows flew up, and he made a little sound of disbelief. "Don't look at me like that…" Her mouth pressed into a frown, "Unlike you, I have no problem admitting when I've been an ass."

"First time for everything, 'spose." He lifted his hand, gesturing at the barkeep, who approached, paused at the sight of the teenager in his bar, and started to say something, only to be interrupted by the ghost with the most. "Get my babes here a daiquiri." He ordered shortly. "Virgin." He glanced sideways at the girl. "That's the kind of stuff you kids drink, right?"

"Sure Beej. But I didn't bring any money with me." She straightened, meeting the barman's eyes briefly, and giving him a brief smile. He didn't seem to know what to do with someone so blithely unconcerned about being out of place. "You gonna pay?"

"Might as well… Gonna own the whole damn bar by the time I'm done here, anyway." He poured another shot, but didn't drink this one right away, just sort of swishing the liquor around in the heavy glass.

"Since when do you have money to spend?" She demanded, with a light little laugh. It made him grin, entirely against his will. He'd always loved that laugh of hers… "Am I gonna see you on the news tonight? Did you hold up a bank, or just a liquor store?"

His features cracked in a further grin at her little inside reference, finally casting an amused glance her way. "Hey, I get things done." He chuckled, pausing long enough to flick his fingers at the guy, who still hadn't moved to get her drink. "Hey, you got a hearing problem? Virgin daiquiri, buddy!"

The barkeep's eyes went from one to the other, slowly. "Should I just trust that you're her father?" He asked coldly, clearly far more willing to disapprove over him making his moves on an under-aged girl. Looking very underage, in her current shapeless outfit, and all of five feet tall. "Either way, she's got no business in here…"

"Ain't your business, bub…" Beetlejuice started to growl, only to be tamed by a light touch of the goth girl's hand, as she waved his frustrations away.

"Look," She said to the man behind the counter, "I'm not ordering anything with liquor, and this is pretty much Beej on his best behavior, so just get the damn drink, will you?" Her hard, endless gaze, seemed to capture him for a moment, before he turned away, muttering something under his breath, and went to get her drink.

"Anyway," She went on to Beetlejuice softly, "I shouldn't have tried to break your foot like that. Not unless you really deserved it. So… sorry."

"Heard you already, babes." He assured her, a bit appeased, with her anyway. Still like to get my hands on that fucking royal… "Anyway, how the hell'd you get out of the house? Figured Babs as having you all tied up like a mummy, you being sick before…"

"Yeah… She's gonna kill me." Lydia agreed matter-of-factly, accepting her drink as it was handed to her, and utterly ignoring the bartender's disapproving glare. "But hey, we'll have more time to spend together." He laughed shortly, which in turn had the effect of making her smile. "I swear, Beej, one of these days, we're both gonna lose our hides this way."

He drew a cigarette out of his pocket with exaggerated smoothness. "Can't say I care either way, babes. Matter of fact, you wanna go get it out of the way now…"

"No smoking." The third party to their conversation interrupted, making Beetlejuice blink, consider him with a slow frown, then draw the cigarette back from his lips, and give him a truly dirty look. "You know the rules." Was all the other said, to that.

"It's that easy?" Lydia snickered, burying her lips in her icy drink, before he could comment on this. She just sat there, her shoulders shaking subtly, trying not to choke in her amusement. "Guess I know how to tame you… Good liquor will get you to agree to anything."

A slow grin spread across the poltergeist's face. He didn't mind being the butt of someone's joke, when that someone was Lyds. "Hell, it don't even take that, babes… This stuff's straight shit."

"Feel free to leave anytime." The bartender scowled, now apparently truly annoyed. As if questioning the quality of his drinks was just that big a shit…

"Yeah… you want me to pay my tab, you let me finish my damn drinks." But the truth was, at this point Beetlejuice was barely acknowledging him with a glance. Instead he was studying Lydia, who, god help him, looked positively cute in her oversized sweats, like she was drowning in some big gray blanket. "So what the hell, you couldn't change before you came running after me?" He griped, trying to push this softer version of himself to the side. "I mean, damn, you wonder why I thought you were still twelve…"

"Well, I'm sorry I can't wear a slinky black nighty down to the local bar," She countered dryly, drawing just a little too much attention back to the two of them for his taste, "Or maybe you'd prefer me to go topless? No room for misconceptions there…"

"Smart ass." He grumbled, finally going for his drink, and trying not to let her see him smiling. "You're lucky it's also a hot ass, or I'd have to do something about that." He looked pointedly at their friendly eavesdropper as he said this, making no mistake that he didn't give a damn what anyone else thought about them. Hell, if Lyds asked him to lay one on her again, he'd jump at the chance, looker-on's be damned.

"Yeah right," Lydia rolled her eyes, "Because that's what's been stopping you all these years, Beej. My hot twelve-year-old ass." Beetlejuice choked, briefly, not having expected her to out-sass him. "What are you doing here anyway? I mean, if you don't like the drinks, why not just pick up something at the liquor store, work up your pissed-offed-ness, and come make snide comments about me being still hung up on Vincent?"

Beetlejuice narrowed his eyes at her, abruptly forgetting his drink. "Are you?" He grunted softly, as if this were perhaps the most important question he could ask. "I mean, you just come down here to tell me you got back together with the royal knee-biter? 'Cause I gotta tell you babes, you could do a hell of a lot better."

"I thought you were the one that said I was an idiot for breaking up with him in the first place?" She mused, pushing herself up to snatch a straw from behind the bar, and then sitting on her knees on the stool, bent over her drink. He wondered briefly if she had any idea how fucking hot that was, seeing her all bent over sweetly, sucking at her drink… Even in sweats. She caught him watching her, and raised an eyebrow, not lifting her head.

The most he could manage was a small sound of dismissal, turning to look at the bottle in his hand, like he suddenly had no idea why he was drinking it. Now, what the hell had she just said? Oh yeah. "Things change, babes." He screwed the cap on his drink, shoving both it, and the untouched bottle of scotch, into his pockets. "I mean, if you're in it for money, hell yeah, he's the guy to go for… But I can't see you wasting your life on a drip like him, because he makes you hot, or something."

"And the man proves he has a soul…" Lydia mused, narrowing her eyes at him. "Or whatever the hell passes for it, in a guy with the scruples of a randy jackal." Abruptly she flipped the subject on him, before he could retort. "What did Vincent mean?" She asked softly.

Beetlejuice just blinked, and managed the extremely intelligent reply of… "Huh?"

"I'd have never have guessed him being as strong as you… And okay, that's weird, but it doesn't explain what he was saying. About you and him sharing something. I think it had something to do with that power, but you kind of changed the subject, like you were avoiding a hot stove." A slow sweep of her legs around to the front again, her head tilted in the way she'd had when she was younger, making the inky strands of silk fall over one eye. "So what did he mean?"

Any humor he might have felt a moment before, left him quickly, and his lips drew into a tight, annoyed line, as he pointedly turned his attention to fishing around in his pocket for money to pay his tab. "Don't really want to talk about it, babes." He muttered, pulling out a wad of worse for wear fives, and dropping the grungy bills on the bar. "Change the subject, all right?"

Lydia considered him thoughtfully, then abruptly sat back, and gave a little stretch. "All right." She agreed easily.

The poltergeist just looked at her dubiously… She was gonna drop it just like that? Just because he'd asked? What the hell? Lydia saw his expression, and smirked. "Hell Beej, I figure you've got about six hundred years of shit you haven't told me… If you don't want to talk about it, fine. Whatever." Her eyes acquired a devious glint to them, as she added, "I'll find out sooner or later, anyway."

Beetlejuice just stared at her, dumbfounded, for upwards of a minute… Then started cackling so hard he almost fell off his stool. His green eyes gleamed from their sunken black pits, and every jagged tooth showed, as he bent at the waist, hands on his knees, laughing his ass off. "Babes, you are gonna be the second death of me, one way or another…" Lydia just grinned, as always, pleased to catch him off guard. "Tell you what, you toddle home, and give Babs a royal ass-kicking from me. I got some shit to do, and I'll meet you later."

Her smile vanished, slowly, and her gaze grew thoughtful. "Somehow I get the feeling you're about to ditch me, to go chasing skirts." She mused, swinging her legs around, and dropping to the floor. "Guess that's par for the course…"

"Just one skirt, babes." Beetlejuice corrected, making a face, which turned away from him, she didn't see. "Gotta settle up some shit, or it's gonna come back to bite me in the ass later." A pause, then honestly, "Probably will anyway." He cast a glance at her, to say something else, but found her pointedly turned away from him, head tipped back, fingers running through her careless mop of hair, and for a moment, just stared.

"Yeah, whatever." She interrupted his admiring. "You go chase your tail, Beej. Have fun." She waved at him absently over her shoulder, and left the bar before he could say another word about it. He was left more than a little baffled, wondering what the hell had turned her mood sour so fast.

Either which way, he needed to go break up with that chick… What was her name again? Stacy-something-or-other? Didn't really matter. He just didn't have time to waste on the broad anymore. Going after Lyds might be a lost cause, but hell… He'd realized in the last few minutes that it was a chance he had to take, or it was going to drive him crazy. It wasn't like he could think of anything else anymore, anyway.

He just hoped he didn't royally screw this up, because the last thing he wanted, was to lose Lyds… And if keeping her meant pulling out a few schemes from the old bag of tricks? Hell. No problem there…

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