you don't recover from a night like this

[Jefferson Soul]

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wc325 "You're not a ghost," came a rather blunt voice from immediately behind her, its owner apparently unafraid and hardly intimidated by the gravesite just steps away. No, Jefferson had the slightest idea who she was, but as long as she was not there to haunt him for the rest of his days, he much didn't care. The male stepped up beside her and pointed his one eye up at the closed gate, frowning a moment in thought. As he carried on with his own business--that is, getting the gate open with only one hand--she was ignored and disregarded for being there herself, as the hybrid hadn't expected seeing another soul at the grim old cemetery out in what seemed the middle of nowhere. Regardless, he wasn't afraid of no ghosts, and he'd walked all the way there--might as well get through the gate and get it done. He captured an iron rail of the gate in his fist and pulled at it, scowling all the while and offering a few frustrated grunts in an effort to open it. "Damn," he muttered to himself in defeat as he scratched at his head and once again regretted having lost the use of his other arm, now held rather uncomfortably in a sling across his chest. He straightened the open shirt collar at his neck and pulled at the gate again, grimacing and mumbling a great line of curses as he fought with the gate--though at one point, managing to budge it somewhat. Was it locked somewhere? Green eye flashed from place to place, trying to find solutions. The use of only one arm and the lack of muscle tone in his still emaciated body was more than enough of an obstacle to overcome. After a long time of pondering to himself, he glanced over his shoulder at her and paused, brows furrowing. "You know how this thing works, lass?"

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