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H-hey, has anyone-
[Stiles has to swallow a few times before he can keep talking. His voice is thick, rough, and although he's not crying any more, there are still tear-tracks down his cheeks, red where he's been scrubbing at them.]
Has anyone else been... hallucinating dead people? They're hallucinations, right? They've gotta be...
Ellen? I tried the salt. She didn't- it didn't work.
[Stiles has to swallow a few times before he can keep talking. His voice is thick, rough, and although he's not crying any more, there are still tear-tracks down his cheeks, red where he's been scrubbing at them.]
Has anyone else been... hallucinating dead people? They're hallucinations, right? They've gotta be...
Ellen? I tried the salt. She didn't- it didn't work.
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Dead people, like in my room, just... there.
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They're not like... zombies. Because aych, gross.
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But at least they're not rotting on the carpet. And trying to chew my brains out. Glass half-full.
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Wish in one hand, crap in the other, see which gets full first.
[Because sympathy is totally a thing that he can do.]
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[But Stiles can get behind that.]
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[He shakes his head, the corner of his lip twitching into a little half-smile despite himself.]
So, ghosts. Sort of. Or possible group hallucinations. All kinds of fun to be had here.
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[His mouth clicks closed. Opens again.]
That's a good point.
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