Stupid fucking kid.

Just fucking kill him already.

You’re spending too much fucking time trying to get him to see fucking reason. This kid is too prideful. Too arrogant. Too haughty. And he’s going to lose this if he doesn’t check his ego at the door. Gah. Like I wouldn’t know anything about that. Magi, is it? Seems onto me already and I have only been here for a day.

“Are you ready?” Lacie enters the room.

“For?” I ask her.

“We can work on your dating profile while we wait for Magi and Wolf to return,”

“Is now the time to be doing this?”

“What are you doing right now?” she asks defiantly. Crossing her arms. And raising a brow.

“Nothing,” I grumble.

“See, it’s the perfect time,”

She studies our office space, which what you would know her desks is decorated with gem encrusted pencil holders, a pink file divider, a burgundy framed computer. A kitten calendar. Meanwhile, Troy’s desk is as dry as a man dying of dehydration. There’s another dead plant. This man kills plants the way he must have killed his relationships. His contacts were all work fellows and most have either retired or gave me a dirty look when I tried to approach them.

“Now,” Lacie sits on the ugly office chair Troy bought.

It’s dark brown, sort of lumpy to sit on. The chair is infused with Troy’s sad existence. And now I find myself in a war with an inanimate object because of how much of a reminder it is that I have been shoved in the body of a man with nothing going on in his life. Besides death and retirement.

“What’s wrong?” Lacie asks me curiously, turning on the computer.

“I have little going on for me,” I tell her, “Why even start a dating profile? My meat suit is expiring-

-Daad you’re not that old, yes you have gray hair, but you’re forty-five, not decrepitate,”

“Look around, I look like a dead man walking, might as well be eighty and the only door I am walking to is a casket,”

“Daad,” Lacie scowls, “Stop talking like that. Well, no, okay, that’s unfair. What I mean to say.” She smiles suddenly, so brightly. And there goes her Aura, “I am glad you’re upset about the way you have been treating yourself. It’s nice to see you wanting to change things. The point I am trying to make is that you have time to work on things. And we can start here, with a dating profile.”

Why does she care for this man so much? It’s very clear that he didn’t care for himself. Even then, if he didn’t care for himself as much, then he clearly put little effort into his relationships. She shouldn’t have to take his burden like that.

“Why are you upset?” she asks me.

“Because you shouldn’t be the one have to carry my emotional burden,”

Fuck. What did I say? Her eyes light up. Her Aura brightens so much that it floods the room with light. Did I make her happy? She jumps up from the chair and hugs me tightly, “You’re so sweet.” She tells me, burying her face into my chest, “But I took this burden because you were hurting. Deeply hurting. You loved Mom very much and tried so hard. No, I am not taking sides, but when you guys divorced, I remember how wounded you were. You buried yourself into work so much that you barely felt like a person anymore. You were your work. And it only got worse when your brother committed self slaughter. I promised myself there needed to be one person who understood your wound. I know it wasn’t my duty. But you were so empty-

-Hey!” I interrupt her, “You er. Don’t. Have. Do that any more. I’ll um.”

Fuck.

What am I doing?

“Be better at it,”

She squeezes me tighter, “Then we can start with your dating profile. All I ever wanted was for you to be whole again.”

“Yeah, I get that, show me how to use the computer to make this dating profile,”

She scowls.

“You’re not that old,”

“I’m joking, but still show me,”

She smiles. Happily, walking back to the computer.

“I know plenty of people who have met online,” she continues.

“Is that how you have met your um boyfriends?” I ask her.

“My um boyfriends?” she repeats.

“Er. You.” fuck I am digging myself a grave.

“I,”

“Were,”

“I was?”

“Er. Look. You- um seemed vastly more interested in that Ward than you did that paramedic,”

Lacie quickly looks over at me, her eyes filled with panic, she flails her hands around, “Don’t joke like that. They were both beautiful. He was this beautiful, golden sunflower. And she’s this, she’s like a man in a woman, but a womanly man - wait, hold on, that sounds wrong. I just mean she has the energy to be forceful. You know. Wait. Er. Aak. Dad don’t joke like that.”

Mhm. I believe it for a second, she’s not crushing on that Ward.

What the fuck am I doing?

For a second, I almost forgot my aim. You, Trista, are getting too swept up in this. You won’t be Mortal for long. If Eras is as cruel as Eras can be, then he’ll likely yank you from your Mortal Veil once the Pen is retrieved.

There’s no reason I should be nice to this female Mortal. I am not even her Father truly. Yet, oddly, I have given her some kind of hope. I am a Phantom. People don't get hope from me. I feed off their misery. I influence their darkest parts of their personality. Why is she so happy with me? So pleased. So hopeful?

“What are your hobbies?” Lacie asks me.

“Killing plants I guess,”

Lacie looks over at the dead plant on Troy’s desk and she shoves it over into the trash can, “Moving on. You like fishing.”

“Is that even romantic?”

“Imagine,” Lacie begins, “A rugged outside man-

-I am hardly rugged-

-well when I mean rugged, I don’t mean those model men, with the big muscles, in plaid shirts, that’s what they think you mean when you say rugged. But I mean someone outdoorsy and adventurous,” she giggles for a second, “Imagine a moonlit dinner date, where you take her hiking or him.” She looks at me.

“Woman, I think,” I tell her.

“Do you want to explore your options?”

“No,”

“Heterosexual then,”

“What next?” I ask her.

“Do you have any photos?” she ask me.

“None that wouldn’t make me look sad, alone, divorced, with an unpainted apartment, and no personality beyond that,”

“Da-

-don’t scold me, it’s the truth. You know it, I know it, don’t deny it,” I pause.

Fine, if I am going to live like this, I have to make the most out of it.

“Lacie,” I call out her name.

“Yes?”

“Are we poor?”

“Um?”

“Look, if I am going to do this dating profile thing, then I want photos in good, nice, looking clothes, something that doesn’t make me look like a divorced serial killer,”

She frowns.

“It’s dark humor get used it,” I grumble.

She giggles, “You have become funnier since getting hit by a car.”

“See,” I point to her, “Something got shaken loose. Probably the dead stick up my ass, because I probably killed that too while it was living when it got shoved up there.”

She laughs, “Daaad.”

“What? You thought it was funny,”

“I did,” Lacie smiles, “We can put that on your profile. I have a quick sense of humor. I am witty and love dark humor. What else?”

“I really like those night time shows, the ones with all those people yelling and slapping each other. It’s kind of delightful to watch,”

“Soap operas?”

“Yep, that’s the one, especially if they are in Aoya,”

“You’re watching international soap operas?!”

“Look, it was the only thing on last night,”

She frowns.

“I wish I could find someone who would watch foreign films with me,” Lacie sighs, “Why can’t men just watch foreign romance films, and write me poetry.”

Er.

“You’ll find the right man,” I pause, “Or woman.”

“I,” Lacie stares at the computer, “Would you care-

-absolutely not, you asked me if I wanted to experiment earlier, didn’t you,”

She beams, “Thank you.”

“Mhm, just go with your gut or whatever,”

“Okay, how does this sound,” Lacie continues, “I have a dark sense of humor, I am quick witted. I enjoy going hiking and fishing. In my downtime, I like to watch Aoi Island soap operas. I like to watch soap operas and foreign romance films.”

“Yeah, that all sounds fine,”

Shouldn’t I be doing some kind of work? Like finding a reporter?