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Vee nodded and flicked the tape recorder off, "I apologize. I meant early twenties likes twenty through twenty-two." She frowned, "I'm not painting myself in a pleasant light. Care to take me on a tour? You have wonderful taste in homes."

It was to hopefully put Amy at ease while getting a lay of the land. Even if she didn't want anything done, majorly, Vee could still sprinkle a little salt where it might not be noticed. Thank goodness for the little bit sprinkled into the bottom of her best.

It was meant to protect her, but if it kept this stranger from harm, it was well worth the few hours she would be without protection.

Amy stood with a grin, always glad to show off her new house. John was just glad to have the tape recorder off, and he also stood from his position on the couch. However, at that moment, the doorbell rang. Amy rushed off to get it, with the announcement that John could start the tour and she would jump in after a minute. John, after taking a peek towards the front door to see who was there, nodded to Vee and began to walk out of the living room to the hallway leading through most of the house.

"This is the room that everything's happened in. The kitchen is just through the door, here," he patted on a recently-painted wooden door, "and I can show you around the rest of the house."

To him, it seemed like Amy really didn't understand what was happening, but maybe she was still unsure as to what all the questions meant. He had seen Poltergeist, but he was pretty sure that Amy's house wasn't built on Native American burial grounds. It was all Greek to him.

Vee turned on her tape recorder in her pocket while she looked around. she wasn't interested in what John had to say, or even Amy. Instead she wanted to see if anything would show up on the tape. Spirits were usually shy, and she didn't expect much to happen around her.

She inspected the areas he has pointed out, sprinkling a little salt in the doorway.

"This house is gorgeous. Your friend has amazing taste. I wish I could afford such a nice place."

John gave a short laugh, not really because anything Vee had said was funny, but because he wanted to ease the tension from what had been discussed in the living room. As he started towards the bedroom area, he responded to her.

"Amy made good money as a graphic designer until this thing with the relationship happened. That was a month ago, and she's been on convalescence leave since then; she, uh...has good taste, usually, in stuff. She's got a storage unit with some antique furniture she's bought at auctions, and she wants to put the house back in its original state, she told me."

As far as he knew, Vee was just here to get a layout of things. So, then, why was she putting salt on the doorways? His inner policeman was quiet on the manner, it didn't seem like anything suspicious, just kind of weird. Amy shut the front door and quickly made her way to John and Vee.

"Okay, back. Did I miss much? I can lead the tour from here, John."

"John was just telling me," she began, "That you are planning on restoring this place. I think that would be wonderful. There are so few people who care about the character of their homes. New and modern buildings don't have the same personality as the older buildings. I, myself, only took a place in the new office because my old one is being torn down and I could get an amazing view of the river."

She smiled again, her eyes darting to John for a moment, reading his eyes, "And you're a graphic designer. I think that's amazing. I have never been one for using a computer, really. I much prefer to do most of my work by hand on paper. It makes it harder, sometimes I suppose. I can barely control a mouse sometimes." She laughed - this sounded warm and genuine. This small talk wasn't just an act, she was really listening, "And John's an officer of the law, which is exciting. I know a number of the officers in this town well, none of them are half as handsome as John." She looked over at Amy, "Do you dye your hair?" She touched her own, plain brown hair. It was all business like she was, "Because if you do, you have an eye for colour, it brings out the green in your eyes."

She turned to look at some of the half packed boxes, looking at what she brought without staring too hard. She had to keep her gaze going, incase she seemed too nosy.

Amy laughed, friendly as always.

"Yeah, I've always wanted to restore one of the homes in this side of town, but I've only just recently had the money to even buy one. It'll be years, and I'll probably need a lot of help," she nodded at John, "before I can get it all done, but I think it'll be really worth it. Oh, my graphic design company? Yes I started it nearly six years ago..."

John turned as Amy continued to talk with Vee, with a worried expression on his face. He had felt...something. It was like a breeze of air had hit his shoulder, and it was quite cold.

"Uh, Vee," he interjected, "I think I just felt something. Like a cold blast of air, almost."

He was unsure as to what Vee could do about cold bursts of air, but hopefully it was more than recommend an AC repair company!

Vee turned to look at him, "What sort of cold. A cool breeze? A stinging cold?" That meant it wasn't poltergeist, which was a place to start, "Are there drafts in here?" She moved to where John was standing, moving to try and feel the cold spot, lightly touching his hand while she did so, moving her fingers to his wrist, feeling his pulse.

She watched his face for signs of fear.

John wasn't so much afraid as confused; there had been a cold spot in Amy's bedroom at the last house she had lived in, and he had walked down this hallway plenty of times before and never felt a cold draft. Had John put credence in, or even understood, the supernatural, he would be frightened; really, though, the only reason he had spoken up was because Vee had asked about cold spots before. Amy spoke up first, still unconcerned.

"There's no ventilation for the house, too old you see."

"It wasn't stinging, just like passing by an open freezer. Does that mean anything, Vee?"

Both turned towards her, waiting for an answer; John didn't seem to notice or mind that Vee had checked his pulse, and it was only slightly above normal.

Vee shrugged her shoulders, "It could mean lots, it could mean nothing. We'll find out." She turned to Amy again, fingers still on John's wrist, "Are you even going to furnish the bedrooms with antique furniture?"

She looked around the room they were in, looking for a place where something may have come from, or where it might be going.

Amy nodded, smiling again since she still didn't think anything was wrong.

"I've been collecting antique furniture for years now, and my mom runs a little antique restoration place on the other side of town. I used to work there when I was in high school, and she'd always get me a little figurine or a vase or something for birthday and Christmas presents. I'm probably one of her biggest customers now!" She laughed.

John, though was looking at Vee; something must have been amiss, because she was looking down the hallway like she was searching for something. Had there been something to that blast of air after all?

Vee smiled, "Wow, your mom sounds kinda cool. Mine is a strictly stay-at-home mom, since she has to serve my father. My parents are very religious - they sometimes make other crazy Christians seem normal. I sometimes wish I had had "normal" parents." She smiled, "Did you want any help unpacking?"

John looked at Amy, then Vee, and then cleared his throat. Amy gave him a short smile, he was always making sure that she didn't get hurt by others, and she appreciated it, but sometimes he was a little silly in his protection of her. She turned to Vee.

"I wouldn't call my parents 'normal'. There was my mom, but my dad kind of stepped out of the picture when I was a little kid; my sister and I had to help around the house and the shop a lot growing up. But, yeah, I would love some help unpacking!"

John followed Amy and Vee into the sitting room and pulled a box from a pile; he was ready to help out again, and Amy seemed to really like talking with Vee.

Vee nodded, taking a box and opening it up. She wouldn't really know where much went, but she could open boxes and organize, "So, how long have you known John? He acts like he's your big brother!" Vee looked up at him, her eyes sparkling - she was enjoying this chat too, "Uh, where do you want all this packing stuff?"

John took a peek inside the box that Vee had opened and turned to Amy.

"More books, put them in the office?"

"You got it, John. Why don't you carry that one, and can you check on Louis while you're back there?"

John nodded and walked down the hallway with the box. Amy watched him go and then sat down on the floor near another box, which she went through at a careful pace.

"Louis is my hamster; he's a curious little fellow, but none too bright. Anyway, I've known John for...hrm, at least seven years now. I met him in college after he punched out the lights of some guy who wouldn't leave me alone in the campus bar. He's always been like that, my big brother, and I don't mind it. He knows that I trust him, but sometimes he's a little too concerned that I'll get hurt by people; he means well, and I just have to let him know that I'll be okay and he lets off."

She looked thoughtfully at the record album in her hand, then laughed a little.

"Remember when these things were really popular? These were my mom's when she was growing up."

Vee smiled, "It's great you have someone like this in your life." She organized a few small piles of the items she was pulling out, "So how many rooms does this house have? It looks huge on the outside, but if my flat is any indication that's not always true."

She laughed softly, "Uh, so is he single?" She lowered her voice. She wasn't actually interested in dating, but sometimes it helped to gossip a little bit.

Amy giggled, but held a hand over her mouth to quickly stifle the sound, then nodded.

"Oh yes, he's single. John doesn't...really work with other people well. He's very, very serious about a lot of things, and he's always got his mind on his job."

She pushed the box she had been going through aside and stood up, after she dusted off her jeans.

"The house has...twelve rooms, I think? Uh...yeah, sorry, I'm still getting the hang of it."

John reentered the room and nodded to Vee and Amy.

"Louis is fine, but I think we'll have to get some lunch soon."

Vee perked up, "Is it noon already?" She looked at her watch, "Wow. Oh, I should go home." The recorder was still going. She wanted to go back to her office and listen to it, "How about this. I'll come back a little later to help you unpack some more and then I can take the cardboard to the recycler's?" She looked at John, "Would you like to take me back to my office?" She reached into her pocket, clicking the off button.

John walked up to the door, already prepared to go. Amy said goodbye to both of them and then went off to the kitchen to work on lunch for her and John. When Vee clicked off the recorder, John opened the front door and walked outside to his car.

"Where'd you park at?"

He didn't mind taking Vee back to her office, mostly because he wanted to ask her about what she thought about the house thus far without alarming Amy.

"Oh, at my office. Honestly, until I'm unpacked I'm living there. Makes it easier, honestly. I've got a cot in there." While they were in the car she pulled out the tape recorder, rewinding it. She had been doing this for so long she found what she wanted and pressed play.

The recorder picked up little pops and snaps, and a loud blast of wind.

"Uh Vee, I think I just felt something. Like a cold blast of air, almost." John could hear his own voice. What Vee and Amy had been talking about was lost over the sound of air.

"I did not hear any wind at the time, did you?"

John looked at Vee, unsure of what to feel at the moment. There had been no wind in that hallway, and if he had heard anything like a blast of wind, he would have told Vee about it.

"There was no wind at that time, or else, I didn't hear it. Do...ghosts," he was still having trouble saying that term seriously, "do that a lot, making noises that you can't hear?"

He was just a little concerned now; thoughts of what could have been said when he had heard the voices began to tug at him.