I'm really 3067 years old
The question floored him. He had been half-expecting to have to lie to her, but he'd never thought she'd ask him a question like this. He… "I don't know," he admitted after a moment, sounding surprised and hating himself for it. Counting the seasons had never been a priority for him, and that wasn't even taking into account the fact that he had been driven insane by the constant screaming of his family's spirits.
Yanking his thoughts back to the present he saw that Myrtle was staring at him with open surprise and a hint of pity. "How can you not know how old you are?" The question was incredulous, as though she expected to be told that she'd heard wrong or he'd been lying or something.
Bakura shrugged. "I don't believe I ever thought about it. At a guess I'd say I was maybe thirteen or fourteen. Probably closer to fourteen," He shifted uncomfortably. The idea along with what Myrtle had been saying earlier made him think about courting, which was something he'd never even considered before, but which Myrtle seemed to be trying to do with him. It was a bit awkward, he thought, but that was all right. He hadn't expected anything else, and it wasn't as though he had anything to compare it to.
Even so… they were close enough, he thought, that he could ask her. "Hey Myrtle, can you help me with something?" It was difficult to ask for help. He was used to being on his own in a world where asking someone for help was an admission of weakness and was likely to bring the very person you'd approached down on your head trying to take you for all you were worth. This place was much less violent, as he'd seen earlier when that boy, Quintus, tried to intimidate him. He hadn't actually hurt him, just spelled him into silence, which was a pretty stupid thing to do really. It wasn't as though not being able to speak was anything more than a minor annoyance, after all.
"Of course." Myrtle was smiling at him as though he'd just given her a ton of gold. "I'd love to help you. What are you doing?"
"I'm trying to find as much information as possible on ghosts, possession, and mental influence." His fingers were twisting together nervously, he noted, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. It probably wouldn't reveal anything important about his past to tell her that he thought something was messing with his thoughts and emotions, but he still wasn't willing to reveal quite that much weakness yet. Still, if she asked… maybe he could tell her. If it would help…
It was then that Bakura realised he hadn't been bothered by the presence once since beginning to talk with Myrtle. The aftereffects of being ready to kill were still making him short-tempered, but he wasn't actually angry anymore. Perhaps… he looked over Myrtle's head – not difficult with her height – at the other Slytherins, and felt his natural condescension towards them magnified into something cold and deadly, but this time it didn't worry him. The idea made him feel relieved. If all the presence could do was magnify and twist his emotions rather than manufacturing new ones for him then maybe he would be all right after all. Maybe it would be weak enough for him to kill it.