Vincent glared at the road ahead. Aaron took a sideways glance at Vincent.
“Snow and cold weather really aren’t the most evil things in the world, you know.”
“Yeah, I know, but I need an irrational hatred of the cold, otherwise, I’d be a little unbalanced. A person can’t be all sunshine and rainbows. Sentient beings need a little conflict in life.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. If it wasn’t for conflict, pretty much everything I can think of would be boring as shit.”
“Yeah. Even something as simple as chess would never exist.”
“Chess is not simple.”
“What do you do for a living, Aaron?”
“You know what I do! I’m a recruit… for… a… magical… Yes, chess is simple.”
Vincent smirked at his minor victory, and looked out the window. Gone were the city greys, and all around were snow covered trees and crazy mountain roads. Luckily, the main roads were cleared of snow, or this wouldn’t have been a pleasant drive. He looked back toward the city proper and-
“Wait a second! Why the hell weren’t we shifted?”
Aaron chuckled. “You’re on vacation, remember? See the sights, and all that.”
“Oh. Okay.”
They stopped at what looked like it should have been a dirt road. Vincent frowned.
“That’s not a road, that’s a bobsled track.”
“Well, I’m not requiring a bobsled, and neither are you. We’re walking it. The snow’s not that deep, but I’m sure you’ll want to require some footwear that goes up your leg a few inches.”
“Already done that. Let’s get a move on…”
They hiked for a while, and while Vincent did not enjoy the cold sensation around his ankles, he did enjoy the walk through the mountain forest. They finally made it to a house that looked a bit out of place in the backwoods. Vincent wasn’t sure why it looked so out of place, but he’d ponder that later.
“Alright, Aaron, put on your best FBI/MiB/X-Files face.”
“You’re nuts.”
Vincent knocked on the door.
Nothing happened.
Vincent was just about to knock again, when the door opened and his hand missed entirely, punching himself in the thigh.
“Ow. Hi, there! Is this the Phelps residence?”
The woman holding the door open nodded. “Yes, it is. What brings you out here?”
“Our legs.” He indicated the footprints in the snow. “I’m kidding. I’m here because Thomas asked me to come here. You’re Mrs. Phelps, right?”
The woman looked scared, then depressed. “Yes, I am, but Thomas is dead.”
“I know that. He was a little upset about that fact when he asked me to talk to you.”
Mrs. Phelps went from depressed to confused. “Excuse me?”
“My name is Vincent, and this is Aaron. We deal in the supernatural. Like the X-Files, but less scary. Point is, Thomas is a ghost, and he’d like you to come visit.”
Mrs. Phelps hesitated. It was clear she wanted to slam the door and hide, but Vincent’s name-dropping made her curious.
“While we can’t actually prove the existence of ghosts (because we don’t have a ghost with us, of course) we can at least prove that we deal with the supernatural.”
Mrs. Phelps gave a nod and Vincent required a large squeaky hammer with the word “BAKA” written on it, and gave Aaron a good whack on the head with it. Aaron required a snowball and threw it at Vincent.
She laughed and invited them inside. After they were all pleasantly situated in the main room, Vincent explained what Thomas had said, and tried to make as few Ghostbusters jokes as possible.
Mrs. Phelps was smiling “Well, I’m glad that I’ll be able to see him again.”
Vincent stood up. “Well, the Museum closes pretty soon, so let’s get down there and go have a ghost party!”