“Trying to get a feel for the other guests. I kinda feel a little outta my depth, y’know?”
DANNY nods sagely. “Y’know what? That’s fair. To be honest, I’m not really used to this ritzy getup either.” He tucks his tie distastefully. “Like- ugh. Get me out of this god damn suit. I’ll take a hazmat over this stuffy thing.”
“Full disclosure?” You say. “I’m ditching this tie after dinner. All the stuffy rich people are gonna be tipsy anyway, no one will notice if I just slip it into my back pocket."
“We should find some other guys who wanna ditch their ties,” DANNY wisely suggests. “Then we can all do it together and it’ll be a coordinated thing. No one can yell at us if it’s a fashion statement.”
“If that doesn’t work, we can just say it’s performance art,” you offer. “No one can prove us wrong.”
You do a quick survey of the room before miming a few ribbon dancing moves, loosening the knot of your tie as you do. "We could even give them a show if they really wanted to question it. Suck it!"
DANNY snickers, cocking his head and brow in unison. "I'd totally give you like, $10 bucks to do that- the look on Vlad's face alone would be worth it."
“Don’t tempt me,” you deadpan. “I need that college fund, man. Dignity is nothing in the face of cold, hard cash.”
“God, ain’t that the truth.”
DANNY chuckles to himself again- but his good humor quickly ebbs in the wake of a misty, sputtering cough, his gaze suddenly so sharp it glinted oddly in the light.
And sure, he’s a grown-ass man to your barely pubescent self, but that’s still concerning. He isn't that old yet, and death stares weren't supposed to start until one's 30s. You hover with a bracing hand at his arm. “You good, dude? What's up?"
He takes a moment to respond, or even register that you were speaking to him- and just like that, his expression slides back into a smile. "Nothin', I just remembered I have to go now. Vlad wanted me to get around with some of the other scientists here so he doesn't have to pay attention to them."
With an ease that’s definitely a little too practiced, he starts walking you both a little ways off from the main hall.
“We should- we should probably drop you off with the rest of your guys, right? Wouldn’t want to ditch you out in the middle of the sharks.” His smile twitches. “Who knows what you’d run into.”
Don't say ghosts don't say ghosts don't say ghosts-
As he ushers you down the hall, a couple of thoughts come to mind.
"Say, Danny… I have a question. I know it's probably not any of my business, but I couldn’t help but notice-"
Your question goes unfinished as your face smacks right into his outstretched arm. (And Jesus fuck, it’s solid. Does this guy work out or something?) The sudden stop is so jarring that it takes a moment for you to regain your bearings and see why he stopped.
DANNY is practically frozen solid, an indecipherably blank expression on his face as he stares dead ahead towards the shadow in the doorway.
Cold eyes locked on a wooden statue, its face just barely caught in surprise, a grainy branch arm reaching with unrealized curiosity.
>[YOU ARE DANIEL FENTON.]
>[YOU ARE LORD PHANTOM.]