Eliot's delight is distantly gratifying, and Martin allows himself the tiniest of smirks as he proceeds to into the hall, keeping a healthy distance between himself and the ghost as it drifts on over to the end of the hall.
"No reason not to try," he says a bit too cheerfully, and then stops when he realizes the ghost has stopped and appears to be staring at them again.
"Wh... oh." He hesitates, glancing at the door to the stairwell. "You... you want me to get that for you?"
It seems ridiculous. This ghost is either terribly unfamiliar with its own noncorporeal abilities, or it's more bound by physical constraints than Martin realizes. Or perhaps it's just very polite. As frightening as it is, it seems very polite, as far as he can tell.
So, he swallows his trepidation and reaches out to open the door. Sure enough, the ghost drifts in and begins making its slow way down the stairs. Martin wonders if it's less about physical barriers and more an emotional one; it remembers interacting with the world as a living person, and is continuing to do so as much as it can.
In any case, he follows it, down the stairs to the first floor where, stepping out into the hall, he's able to watch it hover outside Peter's door, looking almost thoughtful, before finally breaking its own habit and passing through the door.
It worked. Martin hesitates, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does, at least nothing audible. It doesn't matter. He grins, small but satisfied, and looks at Eliot. "Shall we see about the others?"
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"No reason not to try," he says a bit too cheerfully, and then stops when he realizes the ghost has stopped and appears to be staring at them again.
"Wh... oh." He hesitates, glancing at the door to the stairwell. "You... you want me to get that for you?"
It seems ridiculous. This ghost is either terribly unfamiliar with its own noncorporeal abilities, or it's more bound by physical constraints than Martin realizes. Or perhaps it's just very polite. As frightening as it is, it seems very polite, as far as he can tell.
So, he swallows his trepidation and reaches out to open the door. Sure enough, the ghost drifts in and begins making its slow way down the stairs. Martin wonders if it's less about physical barriers and more an emotional one; it remembers interacting with the world as a living person, and is continuing to do so as much as it can.
In any case, he follows it, down the stairs to the first floor where, stepping out into the hall, he's able to watch it hover outside Peter's door, looking almost thoughtful, before finally breaking its own habit and passing through the door.
It worked. Martin hesitates, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does, at least nothing audible. It doesn't matter. He grins, small but satisfied, and looks at Eliot. "Shall we see about the others?"