Adam looked at Barbara, his own uncertainty mirrored back at him in the face of his wife. They'd agreed it was the best course of action, and yet they were still utterly plagued with doubt.
"Oh, I don't know about this, Adam, remember what happened last time?"
"I could be here fifty years later and I still won't be able to forget," Adam shuddered, "But everything else we've done hasn't done any good. Besides, he's her friend so surely he won't make things worse," he paused, and at a glance from his wife, added, "Point taken, but its worth a try."
The ghost took a breath, not that he really needed to breath since he was, well, dead, but he hadn't quite lost the habit of it. As he looked over the model town - it really was a marvelous thing, and Adam was not ashamed to say that he was proud of it - trying to catch sight of the unpleasant specter that had managed to get himself stuck there somehow, he found himself tapping his fingers on the underside of the table that it sat upon.
"Beetlejuice,"
"Beetlejuice,"
Adam paused, looking silently at Barbara as if searching for approval. She nodded despite the doubt that had not at all been lessened.
"Beetlejuice!"
"It took ya long enough!" a horribly raspy voice exclaimed, the owner there of throwing his arms around the couple, pulling them together and, unfortunately, smooching each of them, "I thought I was gonna be stuck in the model forever, and I'm not what you'd call a 'model citizen'!"
As the newly summoned ghost through his head back in a laugh, the other two wiped their mouths, looking far from impressed. From the very moment that the self proclaimed Ghost with the Most had arrived in all of his unpleasant glory, the room was filled with the smell of mold and mildew, and the rot of something long dead. It was a smell that had a way of playing on the back of one's throat, making even those with a strong constitution gag on the first time they were assaulted with it. The Maitlands, thankfully, were all too accustomed to it by this stage.
Beetlejuice, when he had at the very least mostly settled himself from his prolonged fit of laughter, he set about picking at his teeth with one long since bloodstained finger, the other scratching the back of his head through the ratty, greasy gold that was his hair. What could only be described as grave dirt fell from his hair, but thankfully nothing else accompanied it.
"Beetlejuice," Barbara began, "It's Lydia."
"Is it? I thought it was a fruit beetle m'self." he rumbled in reply, his attention towards the still moving insect that he'd just pulled out from between his teeth. With a shrug, the stripe clad ghost tossed the unfortunate beetle into his mouth like one might with popcorn or grapes. Grapes, more likely, due to the tragically audible popping crunch when he bit down on it.
"No, not the beetle!" she replied, a touch of exasperation in her voice, "That was disgusting by the way," the one she was addressing simply shrugged, "Lydia is the reason why we called you here."
"She's upset and she won't tell us why." Adam added.
"An' you had ta get an expert in, hey?" returned the foul beast, tugging on his suit breast, "A'ight, I'll do it," said he as if he had pondered upon the matter in the few seconds it took to release his clothes again, "Where is she?"
Lydia Deetz was positively miserable. Perched on her bed, wearing an aesthetically unappealing combination of pajama pants - the softest ones she had, the dark purple one with smiling bats all wearing hats printed on it - and her school shirt, as if she had given up getting changed in one way or another halfway, she held a pillow up to her face where she could muffle her weeping as she sat in her sad little huddle. It was a sad sight to see, in fact it was the sort of sight that could easily break the heart of anyone who happened upon it.
