(no subject)
Tuesday, November 22 - Wednesday, November 23, 2005
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
It was late- far later than Ray would've liked, given the day's work- but that was all right. Sleep would just have to wait. Ghosts or no ghosts, some things were important.
He padded down the stairs barefoot; the pole didn't work quite as well when he had a book this big jammed under his arm. "You still up, kiddo?" he called quietly, hand on the garage light switch.
A brief pulse of blue light flickered in the darkness. "'Course I am, Daddy," said the car's voice. Ray couldn't help but smile at that. She sounded almost as tired as he felt. "You promised."
"I sure did," he acknowledged. "My father always used to read me to sleep, and that's what I'm gonna do for you."
"Thank you, Daddy." One of the car's roof flashers switched on, pulsing slowly enough to let Ray find the folding chair he'd stashed by the lockers. He dragged it over to the driver's side and unfolded it as quietly as he could. "Want me to give you a spotlight?"
"That's okay, kiddo. I've got a reading light right here." He held it up for her to see- a sheet of clear plastic embedded in a flat black handle. The plastic flared with blue-white light at the touch of a switch.
"Ooo, neat!"
Ray smiled again. "Yeah, I thought so. Now-" He settled down onto the chair, wishing he'd remembered his Hulk slippers. The floor was cold. "Where were we?"
"Chapter twenty-three, Daddy. You just finished chapter twenty-two last night."
"Oh yes." He fished a pair of low-light reading glasses out of his pajama pocket and slipped them on. The plastic sheet slid neatly between the pages of the Spates Catalog. "Here we are. Chapter Twenty-three: On The Dangers Of Selective Physicality. Hazards, Precautions, and Control Procedures Thereof."
Ecto let out a happy sigh. She loved her daddy's books.
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
It was late- far later than Ray would've liked, given the day's work- but that was all right. Sleep would just have to wait. Ghosts or no ghosts, some things were important.
He padded down the stairs barefoot; the pole didn't work quite as well when he had a book this big jammed under his arm. "You still up, kiddo?" he called quietly, hand on the garage light switch.
A brief pulse of blue light flickered in the darkness. "'Course I am, Daddy," said the car's voice. Ray couldn't help but smile at that. She sounded almost as tired as he felt. "You promised."
"I sure did," he acknowledged. "My father always used to read me to sleep, and that's what I'm gonna do for you."
"Thank you, Daddy." One of the car's roof flashers switched on, pulsing slowly enough to let Ray find the folding chair he'd stashed by the lockers. He dragged it over to the driver's side and unfolded it as quietly as he could. "Want me to give you a spotlight?"
"That's okay, kiddo. I've got a reading light right here." He held it up for her to see- a sheet of clear plastic embedded in a flat black handle. The plastic flared with blue-white light at the touch of a switch.
"Ooo, neat!"
Ray smiled again. "Yeah, I thought so. Now-" He settled down onto the chair, wishing he'd remembered his Hulk slippers. The floor was cold. "Where were we?"
"Chapter twenty-three, Daddy. You just finished chapter twenty-two last night."
"Oh yes." He fished a pair of low-light reading glasses out of his pajama pocket and slipped them on. The plastic sheet slid neatly between the pages of the Spates Catalog. "Here we are. Chapter Twenty-three: On The Dangers Of Selective Physicality. Hazards, Precautions, and Control Procedures Thereof."
Ecto let out a happy sigh. She loved her daddy's books.