Whitelighter office hours are now in session [open]

[student_lighter]

Chris had replicated a pen and padd of paper--it just felt weird to work on spells on a PADD and he couldn't afford distractions. Trying to help Trever last night hadn't gone well, but hopefully he'd show up today for their 'date' AKA the only way he could get the man to sit with him and brainstorm about how to break whatever magic had hold of him.

So, Chris was in Ten Forward, a couple of pieces of paper spread over the table, each containing a different spell or potion, or some combination of the two. He had a couple different spells and potions for sleeping, a spell to discourage a lover and remove gods from mortals that he had found in the Warren Book of Shadows. But he was still concerned with how any magic he did might react with the magic already working on Trever.

Chris bit his pen, and twirled it between his fingers, frustrated. Maybe he could find a leprechaun? They could use a little luck.

Comments

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

He looked at his hand and reached out. It took concentration to do that and not something he's inclined to usually invest in.

"Well, I'm taken, son, so I can't help you there," he joked. "Bob Fraser."

He thought about the odd phrase. 'Charge'. "You a probation officer, son?"

[student_lighter]

"Actually I have an uncle that's a probation officer. As for me....kind of? I'm kind of a guardian angel. And, um....do you know you're dead?" Because, well, if he could see the guy, that usually meant he had some kind of unfinished business. Or this Q was just being a jackass.

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

"That's the kind of thing you don't miss," he replied grumpily, though more at the idea he wouldn't have noticed than the reminder of his death. He's never been shy about being dead.

And it was Q. Any unfinished he had (which you could argue he did but in the who didn't kind of way) was certainly not in space hundreds of years after he died. Well, he could help Prim, he thought, but that's new business.

"What does 'kind of a guardian angel' mean?" he asked, genuinely interested.

[student_lighter]

"Usually, although you'd be surprised how many people deny it, or can't bring themselves to accept it. Do you know why you're a ghost? I mean, shouldn't you be moving on? And can everyone see you? Or just me?"

Chris shrugged, moving aside some of the pieces of paper. "My father was a whitelighter--that's the guardian angel part. My mother was a witch. So, I'm sort of half and half. "

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

"I'm fine, son," he assured him, feeling as if he'd become a 'problem to solve' for this kid. All very fast. "I don't know how it works. But I think it's a will thing. I don't know. It takes a bit of practice. As for moving on, I had."

He shrugged. "I don't... you know, settle very well." That's really all the answer he had. Caroline understood it more than he ever did. Of course, she'd been dead longer.

"Well, I won't understand I know what that really means, son, but fair enough."

Sorry! This got buried in my inbox

[student_lighter]

Chris gave the older man--ghost a shrug. "I guess it doesn't really matter what I am. I mean, I can try and explain it more to you if you want, but, basically, I'm a friend. And I'm trying to help these people who don't really want my help."

Kind of like this guy, he was sensing. "I get it. You're happy where you are, right? Just....let me know if that ever changes?"

I'm more offended by the number of 'son's in that last tag of mine orz

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

"I think I've been dead longer than you," he pointed out. He was never one who accepted help easily, particularly from people younger than him. "I'm not about to be sent to hell, don't worry."

[student_lighter]

"If you're sure," Chris said. "And for the record, I'm not dead. Did Q make it so you need to eat or are you still technically a ghost?" Chris doesn't want to get technical and embarrass the man, but, it was good to ask. Then again, it also seemed quite likely this guy was hard to embarrass.

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

"That was my point," he replied, bluntly. Bob has the obvious greater experience at being dead than he.

He shrugged in response. He didn't need Q to eat. "Why? Are you offering to feed me?" Not really an offer he needs, dead or alive.

[student_lighter]

Chris made a noise. Why couldn't this just be easier?

"It's not like it takes too much effort to go to that replicator thing and get some food. So, yeah, sure. My mother's a professional chef. Pushing food on people is probably genetic."

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

He hummed. If Bob wanted food, it was equally no effort for him either, so he pretty much ignored that. "

My mother was not a professional chef," he admitted. "Her bannock was so hard, it could be used as a deadly weapon."