Philip sat at one of the tables... didn't order anything yet, which was unusual for him. He kind of preferred those all-you-can-eat places anyway, but Monroe's was good, too. Especially right after 7:00, when the dinner crowd had gone and the late-night crowd hadn't yet come in.

Sighing, he leaned his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. Still no clue as to how he was supposed to get Nick out of his head. Phil might have been ...more experienced than most people his age, in the domain of spellcasting. But he was by no means a genius.

And while Nick had been really polite about the whole thing, and Phil himself was trying to be polite - it was downright weird knowing that there was someone with you, all the time. Who could hear thoughts, no less...

Although Nick could hear thoughts, he wasn't listening. He proved it by speaking, completely oblivious to the fact that Phil's current train of thought had nothing to do with food.
I recommend a tuna melt. Fish is good for you. Can't eat too much tuna, though, on account of mercury.

At this point, Cassie entered the scene. She's the kind of person who turns heads, whenever she appears (though whether that's due to the fact that she's a fairly attractive young (very young) woman or because she's a little... odd... is anyone's guess.) Maybe it's the blue hair. Or maybe its the lack of clothing.

Not, mind, that she's completely unclothed, of course; she simply wears as little as is humanly (nymphly?) possible, making only the barest concessions to weather and that only because she tries to avoid questions.

She's also very friendly.

Which she proves by sitting down at the same table as Phillip and remarking cheerfully, "You're cute."

"Hm?" He looked up,with a blank expression on his face. He blinked his green eyes once, while he collected his thoughts (and made sure that they still belonged to him, he didn't quite trust Nick). He looked Cassie over, taking in her very unusual appearance. Then smiled in a friendly, apologetic way. "Thanks. Ye're... colorful."

Then, afraid she might take that the wrong way, added, "That's a compliment, by the way."

Colorful?! What's wrong with you? She just said you were cute, and she definitely is. Can't you come up with anything better?
The temptation to take Phil's body became almost unbearable; it had been sixty two years since he'd been able to be physically close to a female. He resisted it. It would be horribly rude.

"I haven't got that one before." She smiled broadly. If he said it was a compliment, then it was a compliment. She likes everybody, you know, but people who compliment her and are nice to her always jump up a few rungs on the ladder.

Which is only natural.

"Thanks. I'm Cassie. What's your name?" Not a bit shy, this one.

"I'm Phil," he said, forcing a smile. Not that he didn't like her, but he was mentally busy at the moment...

No one asked you, Nick. Admitted, she's cute. But what am I supposed to say? "Hello, random smiling girl with blue hair, I think you're hot"? Not a chance!

People like that live to hear "Hello, random smiling girl with blue hair, I think you're hot." Trust me.

Cassie would have been very pleased to hear something like that, yes. But as it was... An introduction would do.

"Whatcha gonna order, Phil?"

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table, and looked at Phil with an expression of pure innocence and interest, somehow all rolled into one. I should mention that her shirt was rather low cut, so the gentleman(men) was (were) afforded a nice view of her... assets.

Which were nice ones.

He picked up a menu, and studied it intently - coincidentally, (ha!) blocking the view that Cassie's shirt was making available. "I don't know," Phil shook his head, eyes still fixed on the menu. But then he put it down, and very deliberately held his gaze on her eyes.

"Did you know, I have this little voice in my head? It says to tell you that it thinks ye're hot," he said matter-of-factly, purposely calling Nick an 'it' to piss him off. He did not want dating advice from a ghost. She's not my type, he informed Nick. Cute, but not my type.

I am not a little voice! My name is Nicholas Jordan, and I'm very much male. And she's my type. Still, that was a stupid thing to say.
A little dejection entered his mind-voice. He knew what happened when people found out about him.
She'll go away.

She giggled. (Believe it or not, that's a pick up line she's heard once or twice.)

"Really? What else does the little voice say?" Fishing for more compliments, yes. What're you going to make of it?

Cassie is much like a little girl in that she loves to be told how wonderful she is. Then again, there are a lot of grown women who are like that too. But she's really just innocently interested in such things.

It's fun.

"He says his name is Nich'las, that he's a real man, and that ye're his type of woman," Phil said thoughtfully, playing with the translation a little, and looking up as if he could see the ghost residing in him. "Anythin' else you have to say, Nick?"

I hate you. Do you know that? I hate you. Ugh, if only I was myself!"
See? He really didn't want to possess Philip.

"Hi Nicholas!"

She waved brightly, as if there was another man across from her, sitting next to (or maybe on top of) Phil...

Have I mentioned that, like a small child, she often takes things at face value and considers most everything a game?

"And thank you for the compliments." She bounced in her seat, just like a little girl who was excited about something.

The feeling's mutual, trust me, Phil shook his head grimly. Then he smiled back at Cassie. "He says 'You're welcome'," he informed her amiably, though Nick hadn't really said that. Cassie couldn't hear his thoughts, she'd never know.

Wishing that by angering Nick enough, he could make him leave, Phil thought, What should I tell her next? That you want her to bear your children or something? Just say the word.

I would never be so crude!
It would be accurate to imagine him crossing his arms.

((WOW. So crappy.))

"Does Nicholas look like you, or is he different?" In other words, are you just being silly and pretending to tell me what a voice in your head is saying, or is there really another entity in there?

This girl's sharper than you might think.

And then she spoiled the adult moment by noticing that they served ice cream on the menu.

Squeal.

Fair enough, Phil thought. Picking on Nick was only fun for a short while.

"He's a completely different person," Phil told Cassie, shrugging, "We're no' at all alike,... and I'm sure he agrees with me on that - whoa, what's with the squeaky noises?!"

Might have to do with the ice cream she's looking at. I completely agree that we're different people.

"Ice cream."

Nick is perceptive. Or maybe just observant.

"And I'm not squeaking."

Pout.

Wow, she looks adorable when she's pouty.

Oh, yeah. Different as different can be. Phil smirked.

"You know what, ice cream sounds really good right now," he said. Lying. But he didn't like it when girls pouted like that,... didn't know why, but it bothered him. "How 'bout I get us both ice cream, what do you think?"

Hey. No fair. Nick wants some ice cream too.
Can I have just one bite?

"Really!? Yay!"

And, true to her completely impulsive and airheaded nature, Casse slides out of the seat across from Phil and into the one next to him, throwing her arms around him and squeezing in thanks.

"You're wonderful."

"You're welcome," Phil said, in a nice enough tone. He isn't fond of random hugs from girls he barely knows, but he didn't pull away - she'd just stopped pouting, he didn't want her to start again. "...What kind o' ice cream d'you want?"

Hey, 's all yours. I don't even want ice cream, I was just trying to be nice, Phil thought grumpily, And you can have this hug as well.

Yesss.
I hope Philip realized that he just gave Nick permission to take his body, which Nick did, and promptly. He threw his arms around Cassie, too. He'd decided that she wasn't really his type either (she's too much like a seven-year-old for that to be quite comfortable), but she is nice, and real, and there.
The only thing that changed about Philip's appearance was the addition of a big, silly grin and blue, glowy eyes.

Oh, she's like a seven year old? Huh, she's acting mature.

Cassie's only two.

His hugging her back wasn't entirely expected, but she certainly wasn't going to object.

She snuggled against him--and we'll see how long his decision that she isn't his type will last with a barely dressed girl with a very nice body pressed up to his chest--and sighed contentedly.

Ice cream? What ice cream?

She likes this better.

The hell? You just...

Oddly enough, he wasn't a angry as he expected he would be.

He sighed. Fine, fine... enjoy your ice cream and your blue-haired girl. Wake me when you're done, and don't do anything stupid. Not that he'd really sleep or anything. But things could get boring when you weren't capable of controling your own body.

Well, you said I could!
"Hello. I'm Nicholas."
The Scottish accent is gone, notice.
"What kind of ice cream would you like?"
He looked spaced-out, and completely scatterbrained. Can you blame him? It was the first time he'd had physical sensation since he died.

She shrugged. "I don't care."

Mmm, snuggly boy.

There isn't room in that pretty little head for more than one thought at a time, gentlemen. And she isn't thinking in terms of ice cream any more.

Eeeh. Touchy type, aren't you... Phil remarked. He was probably going to keep up his running commentary until he regained control of himself.

He opened his mouth to say something to Cassie, but nothing came.
How very odd. His (Philip's, I mean) chest felt funny too. What was going on?
This is weird and not at all comfortable. What do living people usually do that I'm not doing?
"..."
Oh, BREATHING!
He gasped, pulling air into Philip's lungs. Oxygen! What a rush!
"How about chocolate ice cream?"

"Okay."

Snuggle, snuggle.

She likes chocolate, but that's sort of an absent minded, 'oh, yes, chocolate is good' kind of thing. Multitasking is far, far beyond our little techneid.

For goodness 'sakes, how do you forget how to breathe? 'Ve you been dead that long? Sheesh, Phil growled disapprovingly. And if you damage my body, I'll find out a way to get to you. I'll cause your second death, if that's possible. Just warning you.

"You can...you can, uh, let go now, miss..."
Physical sensation. How very distracting.

"Cassie," she corrected him, sitting up obligingly, though with a little pout of disappointment. She did not, however, take her arms all the way away. One of them was still wrapped around his waist.

She's not going to let go just yet.

"Why d'you want me to let go?"

You're hopeless. Phil sounded like he was trying not to laugh. And dead. But mostly hopeless.

((Not much for Phil to do but snide commentary,... so, meh, short.))

I am, aren't I?
Phil's borrowed eyes widened.
It's been so long that I'm completely hopeless!
"Cassie. Because you're distracting me."

"What from?" she asked innocently, tilting her head to look at him... sideways, actually. Rather like a little bird, only little birds don't cuddle with strangers.

No sense of shame, this one.

"Is it important?"

She makes that sound so strange. As if she can't imagine anything more important than cuddling, right out in public.

((Phil has no snide comments to make at this time. -.-' Continue.))