un: wooden dice.

[strewth]

[The voice is definitely English, a scouse accent mixing slightly with bits of Cockney, if one is the sort to recognize it.]

Lovely weather we're having in this sodding fishbowl. Nearly reminds me of home. Ah, hfff, something to lighten the spirit. I've got a story.

Have you lot heard of Ellethia? Couldn't tell you how it's spelled; I haven't the foggiest whether we're playing with Fake Latin or fake Greek. Gorgeous country, it is; proper Byronic. Maybe fake Greek, then.

It were haunted.

D'you remember a bloke prancing around during the communal head trip? Stroppy bastard he was, complaining to me about tea and infanticide. Reckon he had more sparkling conversation for you lot. Wore white. Ghosts in your Ellethia said he got a uniform from them. Or from there, at least.

Don't all rush to thank me. Weren't alone. Your girl Lila, she were dead helpful. Distracted the ghosts she did. I'm sure she'll love the credit, hehh.

And that'd make me John Constantine. [It rhymes with Clementine.] Ain't me first brush with ghosts, let's say. Magic, that rubbish, have you ever seen any? The real stuff, I mean.

Comments

[littlemimic]

[ The easiest question here would be to ask who Five doesn't hate. The list for that will be a lot smaller. ]

Mouse House kitchen. [ She'll already be there. There's a grin in her next words. ] I won't touch the frying pans.

[somebadnews]

[ Five has a good three or four people that aren't on his list for some reason or another. And he's at least halfway sure he's still suffering from that concussion whenever he gets a headache just thinking about her. ]

I'd hope you'd be more creative than that.

[ And he's off to find her, because of course he can't resist his own suffering. ]