Charlie sat impatiently on George's red sofa, "So I think now you should tell him why you're really here." He told Clay.

"Last time I checked, he can't hear me." Clay retorted smartly.

Charlie rolled his eyes, "Alright, alright." He put his hands up in surrender, "George." He called.

George looked up from the couch, his hands fidgeting.

---

"...Vault of valuables?" George asked.

"Yes, and we don't have physical proof of who threatened you, but we think you should keep yourself safe by not staying home this week or installing extra security so you at least catch who it is." Charlie explained in a very straightforward manner.

"Are you sure that's what they're after?"

Charlie turned to his side, where Dream seemingly was, "...Well he says he can't prove that that's why, but he's almost certain." He replied to George, who nodded in slight understanding.

"But the area where you said the vault was," George said skeptically, "it was filled in during a small renovation. I checked again and there's no way there's a hollow space where it could be."

Charlie looked confused, "Are you certain?"

George nodded, "Trust me, there's nothing there they should be after."

Charlie understood, not wanting to intrude any longer. He didn't even want any part of this.

"So that's why my phone got notified that my security system was tripped." George finally spoke again, unlocking his phone and showing Charlie the alarm history.

Charlie took the phone from him, "And was there any footage?"

"No." George answered with a disappointed tone, "The feed cuts out when they're about to walk into the camera's view."

Charlie nodded and turned to where Dream was, "Clay here says maybe you should stay at a friend's house. He overheard the intruders threaten you, and that it's probably the safest."

George thought about it for a moment, "I suppose so. Calling the police when I have no concrete evidence wouldn't do anything for now. I guess I can stay at," he looked shyly over to Dream, "Wilbur's."

Charlie grinned an awkward grin, "Oh well now that that's figured out, I best be goin-" he suddenly shivered, "what do you want?" He scolded the air beside him.

George watched Charlie communicate with Dream and was still in awe at how such a phenomenon could happen.

Charlie turned to George, "He said 'I'm sorry' and," He turned back to Dream and again to George, "goodnight, Wrong Number." Charlie informed, unaware of what the significance of those three words were.

George was silent for a few seconds, leaving an uncomfortably awkward atmosphere. When he finally did look up, though, his eyes cut to where he assumed Dream stood.

"Goodnight, Old Man."

Maybe time did go on slowly, and maybe the hurt that formed between the two had started to ease, but there was no denying that what was once there would never, truly, go away.

---

"Do you have to keep following me around?" Charlie said with an annoyed tone to Clay, who was walking beside him in town square.

Clay nodded, "I get bored and I can't control when I can go back to the dead people world."

Charlie repeated the words 'dead people world' under his breath a couple times before rolling his eyes, "I'm going home."

Clay tilted his head, "Home?" He asked, "You live in town square?"

Charlie sighed, "I'm tight on money, I live where I work." He indicated north, where the direction of his workplace was.

"So that's why you're scamming people?" Clay raised a brow, "So you can afford an apartment?"

Charlie muttered under his breath before answering, "Don't say it like that. It makes me sound like a bad guy."

"You don't think what you do is bad?" Clay asked.

"Of course I think what I do is bad," Charlie admitted, "you think I don't think about this a lot? How I'm taking advantage of people who think they're talking to their dead loved ones?"

"Well I'd call you an emotionless psycho if you didn't feel at least a little bit guilty," Clay leveled with him, "why don't you get another job, then?"

Charlie shrugged, "I tried, no one wants me."

A silence followed his answer as the two continued to walk down town square, Charlie quieting down and avoiding conversation with Dream whenever they walked past another person.

Clay caught sight of a door sandwiched between two larger buildings. He recognized it immediately, "Hey Charlie."

Charlie turned toward him, "Yeah, Casper?"

Clay rolled his eyes, "Can we go in there?" He pointed to the door, and Charlie was about to protest but gave him a chance and walked inside.

Charlie took in the smell. It smelled natural and fresh and overwhelming at first, but soon he found a sort of peace and serenity in it.

"What is this place?" Charlie asked Dream, before he was approached by a man.

"Hello there!" The old man greeted, "You don't know where you are? I could have sworn my daughter fixed the sign outside." The man answered, seemingly thinking that Charlie was talking to him.

Charlie was taken aback by the enthusiasm the man held, "Sorry. Is a florist?"

The man nodded quickly, "Yes!" He replied, "But we sell other things too. Is there anything you need?"

Charlie turned to Dream for an answer, but Dream was all the way on the other side of the store looking through the seed drawers, "Nothing at the moment, just wanted to look around."

The old man grinned, "Okay! Well I'm here if you need anything. My name's Karl."

Charlie gave him a thumbs up before running over to where Dream was and whispering wildly, "What are we doing here?"

Dream held up a finger to shush him, but Charlie scoffed and continued talking.

"There's no one even shopping here."

Dream raised a brow, "Yes there is. That lady right there." He indicated to his left, who was admiring a row of newly potted orchids.

"Where?" Charlie asked, following where Dream had pointed.

To Dream's shock, Charlie had walked through the girl. Dream saw him visibly shiver for a bit.

She was also a ghost.

"Oh!" She yelped, "Well I suppose that happens quite a bit, doesn't it?" She asked Dream, who didn't realize she was talking to him.

"Who are you?" Dream asked her, and she kindly smiled.

"No one special, I just come here occasionally." She answered, before looking to Charlie, "He's alive?"

"Yes. He's a medium." Clay explained, and her eyes lit up.

"He is?" She said suddenly, "And you can talk to him?"

Clay nodded, "I can. And he can see me but for some reason he can't see you."

She indicated understanding, and before she could ask anything else Clay beat her to it.

"So why do you come here?" He asked, and the kind, warm smile returned to her face.

"I just admire the flowers here." She answered, "They're quite pretty to be around."

"Apologies for this, but aren't there other places to see flowers?" Clay asked, and she laughed a little.

"These are just special." She tilted her head before running her hand over a rose, "I couldn't appreciate them enough when I was alive so I'm appreciating them now."

Clay knew what she meant by wanting to appreciate flowers. Oh so long ago in 1970 they had become some of the most important things to him.

He watched her gently touch the roses, wondering why she wanted to be so near them, "And why couldn't you?"

The young lady laughed melodically, "This is going to sound ridiculous but," she leaned closer to him, "I was allergic."