[attr="class","samjermain"]For scientists, her coworkers seemed oddly susceptible to folk and ghost tales. When she walked in each morning, a sense of unease underran the office. People whispered about ghots and moaning. However, the stories sounded more like someone’s sordid quickie than anything paranormal. Then again, it was to be expected. She doubted half of her associates had gotten past first base. While their puppy dog research struck Kelpie as adorable, significant others were rarely entranced by the effect of bacterium on Pokemon reproduction.

All the talk of specters made the night shift reluctant to venture to specific labs at night. This left her and her team with more to do in the morning. It led to shortened coffee breaks and a general increase in tension (certainly not the fun kind). After two weeks of this dysfunction, Calpurnia decided the time had arrived to end this nonsense. Before long, she selected a partner for this mission. A little blue-haired, bespectacled scientist who seemed to prefer the existence of a wallflower.

As Ollie turned the corner, he found his partner sitting on a bench. One heeled boot was folded across the leg opposite with the other shoe perched delicately upon the floor. Freshly manicured hands fly across her keyboard. There was no sign she—or the Purugly in her lap—had noticed you. “It is lovely to see some people can still read a clock.” The woman’s voice is like velvet, every word underpinned by a flirtatious tone.

Violet eyes lifted to the young man, a smile playing at her lips. “Tell me, Ollie.” Her voice was a tigress purr that walked a fine line between violence and pleasure. All soft-toe beans and jagged, sparkling fans. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

The Purugly in her lap—bored by the very idea of existentialism—yawned.

[attr="class","samjerpoke"]