If Sal had been terrified of ghosts before today, there was little doubt he would be scarred by the end of it.  Having arrived at the apartment complex and learning of strange happenings, a part of him had descended into a funk at the prospect of there being otherworldly beings to torment him.  How right he had proven to be, but even poor Sal could not have banked on being the victim of possession.  Though to his credit, Sal was putting up a good fight so far, having only relinquished control of the left side of his body.
Winston meanwhile had proven to be a most industrious and determined spirit, using the situation to steal a kiss from young Winona, while he greedily clutched her prize in Sal's borrowed hand. Not content with the misery he had caused already, the ghost now set its sights on taking full control of Sal's person. Even for a ghost of Winston's age and experience this was no simple feat. Sal was strong willed, if only because of the level of urgency in his mind at even being in the same room as a ghost.
A battle of wits then. One the one hand, a hundred year old dancing ghost with mischief in mind. On the other, a Cosmos Investigator who was trying to discover a way out of this most unfortunate of situations. Sal's mind was confused and blurred, the sweet whispers of Winston's ghostly words enticing the man to give in and let the ghost take full control. But Sal countered, hurling verbal insults and demands in his head littered with choice and eyebrow raising words. His left side of the body shook as though controlled by a drunken puppet master, with Winona looking on in horror.
The chaktawe had taken a chair, arming herself with the seat and the threat of using it. Sal visibly struggled to spit the words out, speaking in a rumble like some great and dark demon years old. "Use....the......chair. Hit. HIT!". It was all he could manage before Winston forced Sal to perform a one legged pivot, his arms waving out at ungraceful angles before he came to a stop before Winona. "HIT," he repeated, his eyes stinging red from the very effort of battling that bastard ghost.
Winston meanwhile had proven to be a most industrious and determined spirit, using the situation to steal a kiss from young Winona, while he greedily clutched her prize in Sal's borrowed hand. Not content with the misery he had caused already, the ghost now set its sights on taking full control of Sal's person. Even for a ghost of Winston's age and experience this was no simple feat. Sal was strong willed, if only because of the level of urgency in his mind at even being in the same room as a ghost.
A battle of wits then. One the one hand, a hundred year old dancing ghost with mischief in mind. On the other, a Cosmos Investigator who was trying to discover a way out of this most unfortunate of situations. Sal's mind was confused and blurred, the sweet whispers of Winston's ghostly words enticing the man to give in and let the ghost take full control. But Sal countered, hurling verbal insults and demands in his head littered with choice and eyebrow raising words. His left side of the body shook as though controlled by a drunken puppet master, with Winona looking on in horror.
The chaktawe had taken a chair, arming herself with the seat and the threat of using it. Sal visibly struggled to spit the words out, speaking in a rumble like some great and dark demon years old. "Use....the......chair. Hit. HIT!". It was all he could manage before Winston forced Sal to perform a one legged pivot, his arms waving out at ungraceful angles before he came to a stop before Winona. "HIT," he repeated, his eyes stinging red from the very effort of battling that bastard ghost.

 
							

