ghost hunter

im trying but their hot

valentinas pov

The crisp autumn air bit at my cheeks as Lockwood and I emerged from 35 Portland Row. The cobbled streets of London shimmered under a veil of early morning mist, and the sound of distant traffic blended with the chirping of sparrows. This was a world away from the ghostly confines of our spectral investigations, and I felt a sense of lightness in my chest, a welcome change from the usual weight of fear and responsibility.

Today was about something else entirely: clothes. Lockwood had proposed a shopping trip to replenish my wardrobe, and though I initially protested, the sheer excitement in his voice had won me over.

'Come on, Val,' he'd said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, 'You deserve some new clothes. you've  been living on a diet of ghost-hunting gear and hand-me-downs for far too long.'

It was hard to argue with that. My 'wardrobe' consisted mostly of oversized sweaters and worn jeans – practical but not my style, and all of them use to be Lockwoods. you would've thought that after living with George and lockwood for 2 years that i'd have gotten some new clothes.

'Besides,' he'd continued, 'I need someone to bounce ideas off of. You have an uncanny knack for finding the most... unique items, remember that vintage jacket?'

He was referring to a faded leather bomber I'd unearthed in a dusty corner of a charity shop, a piece that had earned me more than a few envious glances from the other agents and a few smirks from Anthony.

Lockwood, ever the gentleman, let me choose our first stop. It was a small, independent boutique called 'The Raven's Nest,' with an ominous black raven perched above the entrance.

The shop was a treasure trove of vintage clothing, with racks piled high with velvet jackets, leather trousers, and antique dresses. The air was thick with the scent of old leather and mothballs, a strangely comforting aroma to my nose.

I wandered through the shop, my fingers brushing the soft velvet of a vintage coat, the smooth leather of a biker jacket. I pulled out a worn, yet exquisitely crafted, corset top, its intricate lacework whispering secrets of a bygone era.

'You look like you're having a ball,' Lockwood said, his voice a touch amused. He was watching me from the other side of the shop, his brow furrowed in a way that suggested he was trying to decipher my thoughts.

'I am,' I replied, holding up the corset top. 'It's like it's been waiting for me all my life.'

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. 'Well, I hope it's more comfortable than your usual gear. We need you to fit in with the London fashion scene, you know, blend in with the masses.'

I snorted. 'I'll be the most stylish ghost hunter in London, trust me.'

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mirth. 'I have no doubt about that, Val. You always have your own unique style."

With a newfound confidence, I began to try on clothes, a smile playing on my lips. I selected a pair of ripped, high-waisted denim jeans, a classic leather biker jacket, and a sleek, emerald green velvet dress that whispered promises of nights out and stolen kisses.

Lockwood, ever the patient observer, offered helpful suggestions, complimenting my style choices. There was a spark of amusement in his eyes as I strutted out of the fitting room in a pair of black platform shoes, a stark contrast to my usual brown combat boots.

'I think we've found your new look, Val,' he said, his voice laced with a hint of admiration. 'You're looking...dangerous.'
I grinned, a wave of warmth washing over me. It was a feeling that had little to do with the clothes and everything to do with the person I was sharing this moment with.

As we left the Raven's Nest, overflowing shopping bags in hand, I felt a sense of transformation. The clothes I had chosen were more than just fabric and leather; they were an armor, a shield against the darkness that surrounded us. They were a testament to my strength, my resilience, my ability to navigate a world where ghosts and shadows constantly threatened to consume us.

Lockwood, sensing my mood, squeezed my shoulder playfully. 'Hey, Val,' he said, his voice softer than usual, 'Don't forget, you're still the same brave, resourceful girl you've always been. Just... in a much more stylish package.' I laughed quietly.

he turned to look at my as we started to walk back home, "i've got something to tell you." his voice was suddenly serious 'I think we should consider adding a new member to our team.'

My eyes widened in surprise. "A new member?" I asked, my voice hesitant. "But why?"

Lockwood leaned forward, his eyes glinting with excitement. 'We've been working tirelessly, but the cases are just piling up. We need someone who can share the burden, someone who can bring fresh ideas and perspectives to our investigations.'

'But who?' I asked.

"i'm not sure yet. but i've sent an advertisment to some newspapers, so we should have a few decent options. We've been getting a lot of cases lately, and it'd be good to have another set of hands. Someone reliable.'

'And you think we *need* another person? We're perfectly capable of handling the workload.' My voice dripped with sarcasm. I didn't want things to change, i like things the way they are.

Lockwood continued as if he hadn't heard my barely veiled snark. 'It's not just about workload, Valentina. It's about the future. We need someone with experience, someone who can help us grow.'

'Grow? How about focusing on what we have *now*?' I practically shouted.

He sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation. 'Valentina, we've talked about this. We can't keep doing everything ourselves. We need to expand, to be able to handle the bigger cases.'

My voice cracked, the anger slipping away, leaving a raw vulnerability in its wake. 'What are you saying, Lockwood? That we're not good enough?'

Lockwood, ever the peacemaker, put a hand on my arm. 'Valentina, that's not what I mean. I just...'

"Just what Lockwood?" i demanded

"We need help, even if you don't want to admit it."