Eddie looked around as Dylan came through. “Ah, I have a poltergeist to disperse.” He replied evenly, as though talking about a written report to be turned in. “There’s a house in the city that’s been plagued by noise, shadows, and moving items. Things vanishing, and recently, actual attacks on the owners. Since I’m one of those few Messengers that enjoy getting rid of these types of things, I was contacted yesterday morning but had to put the investigation off until this morning. Since you obviously have an... aversion... to spirits and ghosts, maybe you ought to stay here?” He leaned against the center island, pulling the almost-finished sketch toward him. It was of a young girl’s head and shoulders, faded to a more regal type of lady in her forties.

He bent over the paper, adding a name in elegant script: Mary. Adding a few bold lines, he glanced up to where Dylan was. “If you think you can handle yourself, you can come along! You can’t go freaking out, though, or that’ll really agitate the haunting and the owners of the house.”

Dylan made a face as he fished out the flour and some cinnamon , then turned to saunter over to the oven. He grabbed the rest of the ingredients for making pancakes. Soon he was mixing everything together vigorously and trying to decide whether or not he should face his fears. The Council wanted him to help, but they hadn't mentioned poltergeists, or had they?

"Well ... Better I try and get over this sooner then later." Dylan was more likely to lapse into stunned silence, then to start screaming. He froze when he was afraid, or ran, but he never screamed. His throat always clogged up when fear snuck up on him.

The cooking pancakes sizzled as the young man poured the batter onto the pan. He sniffed the air and smiled as the scent of cinnamon wafted up from the food.

Eddie nodded slowly, adding lines to the drawing’s hair. It curled in light ringlets from the older woman’s hat, over one bright eye. Even when she was happy, it seemed she was close to crying. He glanced up at Dylan’s words, momentarily watching him move around. “Exposure therapy does do wonders.” He noted offhandedly. “I’ve seen people with debilitating fears of certain animals get over their fear by introducing themselves to their feared animal, then surrounding themselves with it.”

He finished the picture entirely and pushed it away, breathing in the scent of pancakes. “You know, normally I stop by a cafe in the morning. Saves time and all. But it’s nice to have someone around that’ll help out, at least.” He chuckled, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

Dylan shrugged. "Well there aren't all that many places to go where you know for certain there are ghosts, spirits and poltergeists... So, that kind of thing never really crossed my mind til now." He flipped the pancakes, and put aside those that were a nice golden brown. More of the mix went onto the black pan to sizzle and simmer beneath the journalist's watchful eyes.

"Doesn't save any money though." So no one seemed to ever had helped Edward, though he was always helping others. "Your normal is going to change then, I plan on cooking something for breakfast whenever I can." Now, why did he want to help so badly? It wasn't because he felt sorry for Edward. The Messenger put himself on the line everyday to help others, but he never had anyone to do so for him. That was the core of it, Dylan supposed.

Eddie studied Dylan for a minute, turning over the drawing to sketch absentmindedly on the back of it. “Well I can appreciate that.” He said at last. “And that you did the dishes last night, too.” Living alone, he would usually cook for the whole week to save time and energy, especially in the evenings. Dylan didn’t seem as stupid as the others that he grudgingly took to living with, and was certainly not as lazy or as messy. Eddie chuckled quietly as he came to the conclusion that it took a living, breathing being to seem especially useful in upholding their part of the house.

He looked down to his paper, and surprised himself at seeing that he’d sketched out Dylan. It wasn’t terribly shocking, however, as Eddie was prone to drawing whatever he saw in front of him. He slid it away and stood. “I’ll be right back.” He said simply, turning to the dining room. He went through it, to a pair of glass doors that led onto the back deck. The entire place was shaded, full of thriving plants that loved the shade of the mossy oak and willow tree. The morning always cast orange rays through the area, and was beautiful to look at. Before dealing with poltergeists, Eddie often came to the back yard to clear his mind and calm himself, as the evil spirits could feed off negative energy.

He was definitely going to do everything he could to make Edward's life easier. Ironically, Dylan wasn't usually the person who volunteered quickest to take care of chores. And yet, there was just something that pushed him to do so here. Shaking his head at himself, Dylan finished cooking the rest of the pancakes. Carefully he placed a few onto plates, along with some strawberries he found in the fridge. He placed both plates onto the nearby table, along with forks and glasses. He fished out a bottle of syrup from the fridge, along with some orange juice.

Just as he was about to sit down, the journalist noticed the drawing Edward had made. Curiosity pushed him to pick up, and what he saw made his green eyes widen. Dylan couldn't help but feel flattered, and somewhat surprised, at seeing himself captured on paper. Flipping it over, the warm feeling was tempered by a hint of sadness. Edward must really have missed his family. It didn't seem like a feeling that ever disappeared, no matter how long ago the loss had happened.

He stepped off the deck and into the cool shade. The short grass was laden with dew that dampened the somewhat shiny finish on his shoes as he wandered around the flowerbeds. Dark roses hung low on their stems, the blooms too heavy to stay up. He paused here and there, lifting the heads to inspect the petals. Unlike roses now that lacked much scent, these had such a heavy perfume it hung in the still air. He passed torenias, coleus, purple and dark blue browallias, and beds of bright violas. He stopped to pick a torenia before making his way back to the house, and through the glass doors. When he went in, the smell of cinnamon mixed with that of the earthy and sweet scents that followed.

Stepping into the kitchen, he found Dylan. "Hope you like them." He said, absently placing the flower into the young man's shirt pocket. "I draw whatever's in front of me sometimes." The faint gnaw of hunger led him forward to one of the two plates sitting nearby.

The young man stared down at the flower placed so unceremoniously into his shirt pocket. A light blush swept across his features, and confusion slipped into his eyes. This was about the strangest situation he could think of. Not the fact that he was eating with a man supposed to have died centuries before, oh no, that seemed normal compared to the nervous feeling swelling up in his heart. Dylan had only ever felt that kind of fluttering feeling around women before.

"I do like them... It surprised me, that you drew me." And then Edward had gone and given him a flower. Thinking of it at Dylan lifting a hand to pick it up gently. He tilted his head to the smell the flower, and unknowingly smiled. The gesture had been so unexpected! Replacing the flower, Dylan shook his head and began to eat his pancakes in an effort to hide the thoughts racing through his mind.

The man with blondish red hair set his fork on the plate and glanced at his table companion."W-why did you give me the flower?" Alright, so he'd had to ask. Dylan's natural curiosity could have him do no less.

Eddie half-focused on cutting the pancakes on his own plate, which was a nearly effortless job as they were incredibly fluffy. The bright cinnamon bite warmed him from the inside, as if he were really alive again, even if he couldn’t necessarily taste it anymore. Glancing up, he tilted his head curiously. “Seemed the best thing to do.” He replied simply. “Color is important. It’s red, and brings out the color of the blue in your shirt and makes your eyes seem brighter.” He picked up a cold strawberry and studied it. “A painter needs to understand color. It seemed to go with you.”

He twisted the green end of the strawberry off and chewed it. He recalled it as being bitter and undesirable, but didn’t mind the crunch it held when bitten just right. “Why do you ask, anyway?” He said suddenly, curious at Dylan’s oddly strong reaction.

Made his eyes brighter? If anything, the sentence sent his heart racing even more. Dylan struggled to find words, a quite unusual thing for a journalist. "Ah, uhm... Well you see ..." Trailing off, he glanced away from Edward. He looked at anywhere but the Messenger, and he knew he was acting strangely, considering the circumstances. Even so, Dylan just couldn't seem to lift his eyes the fraction of an inch needed to look at Edward.

"I wasn't expecting it," said Dylan at last. "No one's ever given me a flower before." Hopefully that was explanation enough for Edward. There were other things he could have said of course, but not knowing his own mind did nothing to help the situation.

He nodded, accepting the response at face value, though he found himself ducking his head to catch Dylan's gaze. "Life is best lived unexpectedly." He said easily. "Were things so predictable, a Messenger's existence would be a sad, boring one. And if you like flowers so much, the back yard's full of them. I sit out there during the mornings before I leave..." He felt in his pocket for his watch, but recalled having taken it off in his room last night. "Oh, I'll be right back!" Eddie jumped up, running up the stairs and into his room, pulling his pocket watch from the bedside table's top drawer. Under it was lying a color painting of his siblings and parents, and himself, sitting in a group. They'd never been able to afford a picture back then, and Eddie hadn't, at the time, been skilled enough to actually paint them so well. He had decided to set the photo as though his parents had never disappeared, and surrounding them were his teenage siblings and himself as a young adult, not long before he was killed.

He studied it for a moment, recalling their faces, then replaced the thick canvas board on the bottom of the drawer before pocketing the watch and going back downstairs. Eddie would never forget their faces, but it was nice to actually see them each day.

Green eyes, a different shade then his own, captured Dylan's attention. He couldn't eactly say that the flower had not been what had him acting so strangely. Why, the thought of that sent such confusion through his mind!

Dylan was glad when the Messenger jogged away. It gave him much needed time to collect himself. He did wonder what had prompted such a quick departure. When Edward returned, the journalist had placed his plate into the sink and was cleaning it carefully, along with the things he'd used to make breakfast. The copper haired man glanced over his shoulder when he heard Edward returning. "So, what had you running away so fast?" It hadn't been him, at least Dylan didn't think so ... Or rather he hoped not.

Eddie stepped to the center island where the sink was, leaning on the other side. "Sorry about that. It was my watch---I got it from a very good friend a long time ago, and don't go anywhere without it." He opened the cover, watching its ornate hands and through a small window, the clockwork mechanisms ticking with each second. The friend he spoke of had been a watchmaker, and created it for Eddie after the Messenger had saved him from a demon in 1896. He had been one of a few humans that knew of real demons, and could keep his mouth shut well. The watch was one of a kind, and had Eddie's full name inscribed under the crystal face.

"I guess I consider it a good luck charm." Eddie noted, wrapping the chain around his hand. In all the years he'd had it, the gold links had never broken. "I only wind it every now and then, with time differences each seasonal change. Otherwise it's never stopped and never slows. Superstition, maybe..." He shrugged, and smiled softly, going to where he'd set his jacket and pulling it on. "We still have about an hour before we have to take off." He noted, and put it in the front pocket of his jacket. "You can take care of your clothes and equipment in that time if you like." Eddie nodded, and went around the counter to the back yard.

A long time ago probably was just that. Dylan watched as the dirty water drained away, swirling as it did down the sink. He shook off the suds from his hands, then turned to give Edward a half sile. He didn't really have much to say about the watch. "It didn't seem like you needed any luck at all yesterday," stated Dylan in a matter of fact tone just before he watched Eddie walk away.

The mention of putting away his clothing and his computer equipment, and all his books, had Dylan turning away to finish moving his boxes. Once that was done, it was time to unpack. The clothing was folded neatly, or placed on hangers, and put away carefully. Soon, Dylan knew, everything was going to be in a wonderfully disorganized array.

But not now. At least the office he took for his own was going to be organized.

Eddie paused just before opening the door. What did that mean? He'd had his watch with him yesterday too, stowed in a pocket like a security blanket, the knowledge that it being there keeping him sane and focused. It had seemed to lapse when Dylan saw him, but now it seemed to be just a little more good luck. He was entertaining, and helpful, and the fact that he could see spirits would probably come in handy.

He stepped around the back deck and to a swing similar to the one on the front porch. It was a calming movement, the rocking slowly back and forth, and when he sat on the old wood, Eddie seemed to be in a different world. A slower, more steady world. His emerald-toned gaze glinted in a stray sun ray that managed to shine through the willow's branches, and he studied the side of an ivy-covered shed nearby. It held everything that let him contain and control the yard front and back, and it was almost a different type of therapy. He wished he could really smell the earth, the scent of the flowers that hung heavily in the early mornings and evenings, but the care it often took to watch over delicate living things allowed his mind to slip away and clear itself. And the cool evenings and soft grass was a nice contrast to the wooden benches he used at the pottery wheel or canvases. He closed his eyes, breathing in the cool air before it started heating up.

It too Dylan a while more to putter about in the office he'd picked as his own, and to organize his room. He picked a few books carefully from the boxes and placed them on his bedside table. Then a picture of himself and his friends found it's way onto the desk of his office, while a picture of his family found an honored place on a dresser in his room.

Once these last touches were placed, the young man stepped down the staircase. The copper haired man made his way into the kitchen, and then outside. His eyes took but a moment to find Edward, sitting as he was on the swinging chair. The moment was so peaceful that Dylan remained silent, simply standing there and watching.

It was slight, the change in atmosphere. Slight, but obvious. He didn't look around immediately, but Eddie knew he wasn't alone anymore. He let the wind blow, swiftly rustling the trees and the bushes full of flowers, the short grass and the ivy on the shed. Eddie sighed, breathing in, then looked to his left. "That didn't take long." He said simply, moving to the side a bit to give Dylan a choice to sit. "Hopefully now everything seems closer to home for you." Turning his head back to the yard again, Eddie absently ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up. "When I came here the yard was bare." He noted. "There was nothing to look at. And nothing to take your mind away from reality. I started planting, and didn't stop until a few years later. This is the result of that work. I remember the scent of roses and lilies. Can almost smell them if I think hard enough." He closed his eyes, almost drifting off immediately before snapping his head back up. Checking his watch, he saw fifteen minutes until it was time to leave.

Dylan listened quietly as he moved to take a seat beside the other man. He took a deep breath, taking in every scent and enjoying the smell. The words filling his ears had Dylan freezing, then twisting about to peer in shock at Edward. "You can't smell?" But hadn't he mentioned something about scent earlier? Or had he been talking about being to hear extremely well the day before, Dylan couldn't remember.

In any case, that wasn't the important thing. "Your garden's beautiful, very peaceful." It eased the heart. That was probably why Edward had created it in the first place.

Eddie cast an appreciative glance at Dylan in response to his compliment. “When you exist indefinitely, you have to figure out what to do with your time. Instead of working myself insane, I take to art and music and landscaping. It’s nice when someone... appreciates it.” He was still too modest to completely accept a direct compliment, however, and shrugged a bit.

His thoughts drifted again. A strange combination of past and recent present combined in a twister. From the moment he realized his parents were never coming home to his own death, finding the gift of his own personalized watch and mastering various well-known Beethoven sonnets on the piano. Enthralling himself in his painting, then drawing, and sculpting and pot-making, and eventually a massive win against an exceptionally powerful demon that centered him in the favor of the Council. Then Dylan’s following him, accepting a place among Messengers. The warm pressure of the young human’s hand pressed against his chest..

He shook his head, checking the watch again. “Eh, time to take off.” Eddie stood and stretched, pocketing the watch. “Ready to get close to a creature you fear?” He looked around to Dylan, stepping around toward the door.

Dylan stood automatically to follow Edward. It was such an instinctive action, he'd not even thought of it and he was already on his feet. "No, I'm not ready. Though, after seeing you take down that thing yesterday, I'm not as afraid as I could be." He had full confidence that Edward would be able to keep him safe from whatever lay in wait for them at this place they were going to visit.

The journalist sighed a little, placing his hands in his pockets as he walked through the house. It was a shame they needed to leave the garden, it really was peaceful.

Eddie shrugged as he led Dylan through the house. “Demons and poltergeists are very different from one another.” He said. “One you can see as a solid being, and another might be a smoky figure, or something that can’t really be touched or felt unless it wants to be. By a human, that being. It’s not the same as a spirit, so it doesn’t have the same properties.”

He paused before leaving the kitchen, ducking to pull a case out of the end cabinet. “I’ve got a certain number of items I use that poltergeists are afraid of, Dylan. These help me get rid of a corrupted or angry spirit quickly, and bless the house so no more can come in.” He patted the black leather case, and stepped into the entryway, pulling a set of keys off the hook by the door before opening it. “You’ll be alright if you don’t focus on the creature. You’ll see it, but don’t regard it in that sense. If it knows you can see it, it’ll go after you in any way it can.” He stepped onto the porch, instructing Dylan to lock the door behind him. It was unnecessary, but gave a sense of security.

The young man watched Edward quietly. It seemed like there was a lot he didn't know about this world he'd launched himself into. There were unseen pitfalls and dangers everywhere, and so many that it would be easy to step into without ever noticing their presence. Dylan nodded as he watched Edward pull out the case. He would have to remember that.

As he stepped outside with Edward, he locked the door quickly then turned to walk to the car. He leaned against it until the thing was unlocked, then slipped inside. Dylan fidgeted nervously with the wide strap of his seat belt. Fear tried to worm it's way into his thoughts, and he was trying to distract himself.

Eddie set the case under the driver seat after he returned from opening the gate, and turned the key in the Cadillac's ignition. It started smoothly, and he backed out of the slightly curved driveway, onto the road, and started off. They passed through the gate without disturbance. “Fifteen minutes’ drive.” Eddie said as he straightened the strap of his seat belt. Glancing sideways, he studied Dylan closely. It was as though the tension thrummed visibly through the air from the young journalist. “Dylan, you have to stay calm. Relaxed. Whatever happens, it won’t result in your harm. I pride myself in the fact that, while I might find myself the object of a thorough beating, I’ve never allowed the tenants or visitors of the house to be harmed.” He smiled slightly, hoping somehow he could lend his own strength to the human.

Fifteen minutes seemed like the sentence of an eternity. It gave him so much time to worry and fret. Dylan shook his head slightly at the other man's words. "I don't like thinking of you getting hurt either." Already he was beginning to think of Edward as a friend, and thinking of him hurt didn't sit well with the copper haired man. Surely, this routine kind of thing wouldn't result in the Messenger's harm. Edward so well prepared.. It was hard to imagine that their visit might end in any harm coming to him.

Eddie shook his head, turning off the quiet road and onto a busier one, surrounding themselves with buildings that grew gradually taller. Yet they were still on the outskirts of the city itself, and even as they tiptoed the edge, it was obvious that city life was just a street or two away. They were passing a line of townhouses, gradually moving from low-rent properties to higher end streets, these shaded with strategically planted trees that tended to obscure the road signs.

He pulled to a stop in front of one of the townhouses near the end of the road and brought up his case. “You ready?” Eddie turned his emerald-toned eyes onto the human. “Crazy things have been going on in this house, you have to have a more level head than the tenants.”