Ghost tilts its head.

Or, well, their body does. Cecil isn't quite sure if they're actually in it. He's not sure whether he should ask or just let it be.

They choose for him. A haunting voice echoes from within their mask. Or, well  voices—it feels like thousands of people are speaking in perfect unison. The thought makes him shudder. "Thank you," the voice says.

And Ghost doesn't speak. He's quite certain that it can't. So, as logic goes, whatever said that is not Ghost.

A dark tentacle winds its way out of the cloak. Then it seems to realize where it is and darts back inside. Cecil looks away and politely pretends not to see.

He's still confused by what they said. "What for?"

They seem uninterested in answering his question. Instead, they hop off the table and start rummaging through his drawers.

The radio host gets up, moving to help them.

Suddenly, their entire cloak is flaring up. Was it always made up of tendrils, or is that something new? They lash at him, not exactly angry but definitely upset.

He sits back down.

I. dont know what im doing. eldritch ghost void hivemind etc etc

im gonna go to bed meow (that was a typo butim keeping it anyways)