For someone in her line of work, the week had been peaceful.
Of course there were the usual little hauntings. There always were. But none had been particularly complex. Ah, days like this were nice. Fang loved her work, she truly did, but she would be lying if she said didn't also love a chance to be a little lazy for a change especially after an earlier string of troublesome hauntings and, in one case, a possession.
No, she took her downtime when she could get it. No one called for her, she saw nothing more than the usual nature spirits that were always there. This area was, surprisingly, rather clean for the time being. At least right now during the day; that could always change.
And so Fang saw fit to treat herself, stopping by a small, cozy teahouse that sold a wide array of flavored teas and dainty pastries. It was quiet inside save for the conversations of the other guests with dimmed lighting to give it an intimate feel--the perfect place to relax and be with one's thoughts. And goddess but it smelled amazing, all the many warm spices coming together in a way that made her mouth water.
She ordered a spicy blend of chai and settled down at a corner table to write in her journal. Nothing fancy, just a quick letter that she would tear out and send home to her mother whenever she got a chance, because it had been a while and she should. Except, she didn't get much written before she noticed him.
Or, not even really him. But what was around him.
There was another person sitting solo, a foreigner by the looks of his hair and dress and skin and sheer height even sitting, and sweet Inima, how had she not felt him when she walked through the door? There were specters attached to him, black and angry like a stormy cloud; she had to adjust her eyes to focus on physical sight versus spiritual, just to be able to see the man beneath.
Fang tensed, quickly putting her brush and ink away into her satchel on the floor and blowing carefully on the wet ink on the page, giving herself time to think. Ohhh dear...oh goodness...
Mmm...right. How exactly did she go about this, now??
The man wasn't Thanati. At least, he certainly didn't look it. And in her (very limited) experience with foreigners, they didn't tend to understand, or react well, to all the spirit stuff at the best of times. Telling someone they had a spectral cling-on was...yikes. It was going to require a level of tact and, perhaps, cultural sensitivity that she just didn't have. Fang chewed her lip and glanced around at the other patrons sipping their tea or engaged in quiet conversation amongst themselves and, after a moment of internal debate, decided the only way was to be direct and blunt. There was no magic formula that would prevent a freakout if someone was predisposed to them, so may as well get it out of the way fast so they could move onto solutions!
This wasn't about her, it was about him, and he deserved to know.
Downing the rest of her tea in several quick gulps like a man chugging booze for that liquid courage, she rose from her table and made her way toward him, rehearsing her delivery in her head. While she was fluent in Common, had been a long time since she'd spoken it and she feared she'd be a bit rusty. Not enough to cause misunderstandings, though, she was certain. Now to just get his attention and...
She reached out and gently touched his shoulder.
"Excuse me," she said in thickly accented Common, leaning in close so she could speak to him discreetly. "You have dead person on you."
Nailed it.
