--
She finally caught up with him near the door to the kitchen. Every two or three steps were interrupted with a ghost or a ghoul greeting Betelgeuse with enthusiasm of one sort or another. Lydia nearly choked on a fit of giggles when a tiny attractive woman nearly ripped his head off. She kept quiet and watched his reactions to people. It seemed as if each person was greeted with a different voice, different posture, almost as if he were a different person to each of them. None of them seemed to notice the many faces of Betelgeuse, however, and he even managed to calm down the tiny woman screeching something about chihuahuas.
Eventually he settled down at a small table shoved in what must have been the dining room. Perfectly solid ghosts milled around, bumping and jostling from every angle as Lydia struggled to seat herself. They sat together for a short time, Lydia shoving Betelgeuse off of her whenever he got too cuddly and Betelgeuse torn between trying to schmooze the girl and finding someone more willing to entertain him.
Lydia couldn't quite figure out whether or not she was having a good time. A part of her felt more at home in the dingy netherworld than she ever had at her parents house, or even college, but another part of her was starting to revolt against all of the horrible death wounds she kept seeing on the chatty crowd. At first it had been fascinating, but all of the real life gore was starting to make her feel a little sick. She was a little irritated with herself for the weakness. Wasn't she the spooky one? Wasn't this her cup of tea? No matter how much she argued with herself, however, her body continued to remind her that while they might not be living, she still was.
"Beej, how come everybody here has some awful wound of one sort or another?" She lowered her voice as a figure walked by whose head was only just barely connected to the rest of him.
Betelgeuse used the excuse of talking to her to lean in close to Lydia and snake his arm around her tiny waist. "Just the way it works, Lyds. The people that want to stick around are usually the ones with the ugliest stories to tell."
"You had the choice to go somewhere else?"
Betelgeuse shrugged and considered. "Me? Somewhere else? Maybe. Sort of. Kind of, not really. I guess, it depends on how you look at things. Each level is sort of a mystery to the next, you know? Living don't know about the dead, the dead don't know much about what happens once you move on from here."
"Oh. There's more to it than just this?"
"Yup. I mean, there's the room where ghosts go when they've been exorcized, but they don't stay in there forever. Eventually we head into the next level. Who knows, maybe there's a level after that, too?"
Lydia shook her head. "That's just weird, why do it that way? I mean, what purpose does it serve?"
Betelgeuse just shrugged, losing interest in the conversation already. "Dunno, babes. Don't really care to find out."
--
