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Alison looks up at the wallpaper. Some absolute dickwad has glued it to the walls howevermany years ago instead of using proper paste. Hence, why after almost seven straight hours of steaming and scraping, the room is only three quaters done.
"We're gonna have to postpone the film," Alison says. "We need another hour on this at least, maybe two."
Mike clicks his tounge, whistling. "Teddy's not gonna like thaaaat," he singsongs.
That's gotta be the fiftieth time Mike has mentioned this Teddy bloke in the last two months, Alison can't take it any more. "Right," she throws down the paper-covered scraper. "Who is this 'Teddy' you keep talking about?"
"Hm?" Mike looks up from where he's putting more water in the steamer. He'll have to refill the big jug they brought up soon.
"Teddy," Alison repeats. "You've been talking about him for ages and I've no idea who he is!
Mike snorts. "What do you mean you have no idea who he is, it's the Captain!"
There is a brief, but stark, silence in which Mike realises thay he has made a very, very grave error. He's not quite sure what the error is, but by god does he know he's made it.
"MIKE!" Alison explodes, "I've been trying to figure out his name for weeks now, and you've known this whole time? How did you even find out?"
Mike shrugs. "I... asked him?"
It's early-ish in the morning. Early enough that Mike would kind of like another hour or so in bed, but not quite early enough that he can really justify it. He's got plastering to do.
The preperation for a full day of plastering requires a proper brew, so once Mike's got his dressing gown on he puts his slippers on and heads down to the kitchen.
"Morning morning," he yawns, filling the kettle. "Anyone about?"
Im the two years they've been living with the ghosts, they've come to learn a lot about them. Not just as people, but like, as ghosts too.
Mike knows nothing about the supernatural, besides what movies have told him, and google is... hit and miss. So they've just sort of had to live and learn.
Neither them, nor the ghosts know why some of the ghosts have powers and some dont. It's just one of those unanswerable things. But Mike makes do with what he has. There are fridge magnets and voice-buttons around the house for Julian, morse code flickers and Stranger Things style christmas lights for Robin. Mary can set the smoke detector off if there's an emergency, or just make him smell some toast if she wants to say hi.
The others... are more difficult for him to communiate with.
But, as it turns out, not impossible. All that nonsense online about 'feeling cold spots' or 'goosebumps' whenever there's a spectral presense nearby actually has something to it.
So Mike isnt suprised when, in answer to his question, he feels a small tingling in his left hand.
They'd discovered it about a year in, when Robin and Julian had been pissing him off while he was trying to make microwave popcorn. Forbidden from messing with the microwave, Julian had started poking him at various intervals until Mike had told him to cut it out. Then Mike had been poked again, weaker than usual, but he'd been on alert, and he'd told Julian again that if he didn't stop it then he wouldn't put the movie on.
Only, Julian hadn't poked him. Robin had.
Mike takes two mugs out of the cupboard and sets them on the counter, pulling the teabags.
"Cool, cool," he says, using one hand to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "How many of you have the pleasure of my company then, hm?"
Another tingle, just the one, on his other hand.
It feels a bit like goosebumps; the sign somebody just walked over your grave, some would say, or that someone residing in the spiritual plane just walked through you. It's the second one, Mike knows, happening when one of the ghosts 'touches' him - aka sticks their hand through him. It had been tough to tell at first; he had to really be concentrating to percieve it, but after a while he got used to it. Now it doesnt really take much to notice it. It's just become second nature.
He smiles and opens his cupboard, revealing the ghostboard. While the kettle boils, he points a finger over the pictures; "stop me when I reach you."
The next shiver comes down the back of his neck, near his shoulder, and it comes when his finger lands over the Captain's squad picture.
"Oh, hey Captain!" Mike gives a little wave, hopefully in the Captain's direction. He's guessing he's behind him.
He closes the cupboard and pours his water in the mugs, putting in two sugars for him and one for Alison, and while the teabag brews a thought occurs to him. "Hey, by the way, what's your name?"
Silence. Not that he expected otherwise; it's not like the Captain can answer. They're all happy to have worked out some communication but its still worlds away from what Julian and Robin can achieve.
But Mike is nothing if not optemistic, even at this time in the morning.
"Alright, um, try this again; stop me when I get to it. A, b, c, d..." he gets through most of the alphabet before he finally gets a swipe through his hand at T.
"T, cool. Okay, a, b, c, d, e–"
Another swipe.
"T, E... Ted?"
Goosebumps errupt along his wrist and he smiles, fishing out the teabags with a spoon.
"Oh nice, is that short for something?" He asks as he crosses to the fridge for the milk.
His shoulder tingles.
"Tedward?" Mike jokes. The silence that follows feels distinctly unimpressed.
"Alright, alright," Mike sighs, putting the milk back - a splash for him, a dollop for Ali - "none of you guys appreciate my sense of humour," he sniffs. "Just Edward?"
Two more tingles; a hand swept through his arm.
"Theodore?"
One swipe.
Mike smiles. "Theodore. Nice to meet you Theo."
...And two more swipes. "Okay, yeesh, not a Theodore. Are you even a Ted, or did you just not want to spend half an hour spelling out Theodore?"
Mike finds the silence that follows very telling.
"...It's just Theodore isn't it."
A soft tingle in his wrist.
Mike chuckles, shaking his head. "Well, hi anyway, Theodore." He mimes shaking a hand - it actually feels goosebumpy so he imagines Theodore is shaking his hand back, as best he can anyway, and grins. "It's a nice name either way, handsome name for a handsome chap."
The shivery feeling abruptly dissapears and Mike wonders if he went too far. Oh well. Mike can only say what he sees, and the face circled in a sea of army squad uniforms on his ghost board is quite the looker.
"D'you think I should bring Ali a biscuit as well?" he says to the air, hoping the Captain hasn't actually left. "Or should I just eat them all myself while I'm down here..." he ponders.
Two swipes through the hand, then a slight tingle to his forehead. He has the darndest feeling he's just been flicked.
Mike sighs and grabs the packet of custard creams off the shelf. "Alright. I know when I've been told," he grumbles. "Alison said you were a moral one. Ew."
This time his scalp prickles. He imagines Theodore just slapped him on the head.
He grins. "Now now, Teddy, that's no way to treat your landlord!" he laughs, scooping up his mugs and biscuits and hightailing it out of the kitchen, his scalp and shoulders prickling again and again.