"Oi geezer, you alright?"
Arthur looks to the ghost with a slight bit of worry as the neurons in his brain finally reawaken. His temporary slumber of consciousness finally ended as she pushed him on the shoulder, or was attempting to do so at least. In truth, before the thought could barely even occur, the shopkeep awoke and raised a finger to what he saw as a strange set of words and symbols that no one of the naked could realize.
"Oh yes, just a chapter break. Those just happen to everyone here every once in a while."
Verity stumbles forward with a face of irritation. A slight psychological feeling in her head. She knew all it would take was one touch to drive the old man into lunacy, so why the persona of applying for a job? How long would this have to go on if she were hired? How long before the haunt was over and she could just move on as she always did?
Was the warmth she felt before a mirage? No, there was no time to think of this, chaos had to be made.
"Line break"?
Arthur shakes his head, he takes a piece of bark from one of the dream-cloud trees and takes a bite. A taste of peppermint and lavender. A slight smile grew on his face as he remembered the small victories he's accomplished in life. Whether it be the creation of a wand known as "The Particular", first moving into the village he calls home (A home outside of the swamp they currently reside on), becoming the ender of Ragnarok meeting his beloved wife for the first time, all before snapping back to reality.
"Everyone is the protagonist of their own tale. But enough about that." he said, throwing the bark to the side before snapping his fingers and pointing Verity's way, before reaching down and pulling the petal of a metallic flower off an orange "Forever Autumn" bush. He grabs both sides and with a grand screech doesn't pull apart, but stretches the metallic petal into a shape that has yet to be determined. This was a new employee of his soon to be after all, whether or not it becomes official, he'd prefer them be safe under his accord.
"Are you any good with a sword?" He asks with a simple smile.
"I've got a letter opener…." she says, pulling her beloved weapon and method of personal death out of her sleeve and presenting it to the old man. Multiple small tricks were performed in front of him as he gave a small bit of applause. Multiple flips, rolls, tricks involving a phase through her body, etc. were all performed in front of the old man as he stared in slight interest. Verity smiled in a sure-fire cocky grin at the old man's interest. She WAS Verity, afterall.
So then why was the old man still molding the petal in front of her?
"Well, everyone always thinks a dagger or knife-like weapon is a good idea when fighting a Dragon-beast or a Necromantic beast from some higher dimension, but really unless you can get close enough…"
"OI, don't diss the opener." she said with irritation as she held it up to the old man's eye. The one eye that was completely blind, but still.
A poignant silence was met between the two as Verity's makeshift knife that she had as not only a constant companion, but the end of her own life, during the entirety of her un-life span. She gave a face of collected anger, as much as a teenager could manage at least.
Arthur simply gives her a small look as if he's only just realized the mistake he's made. Not in terms of underestimating the ghost in front of him, this apparition of the undead, the spectral, the incorporeal, but in a way one gives when they realized they might have unintentionally said a sort of slur they had never heard of before and had said it for the first time in front of the people it were intended for.
"Right. Ghost. My apologies. But in terms of a contract and… a…., Oh, I'm sorry, I'm going too quickly, you said you were applying for a job above all else?"
"?"
A face of surprise turned into the face of a boss interviewing a possible new hire. What was going on with this old geezer? Was the normal approach to her haunting methods not working well enough? What made him tick? Why was this the best form of entertainment she's had for so long?
Keep up the act.
Her brain told her subtly yet strictly.
"Oh yeah. I'm here to repay my debts from helping Khouma."
His face softened, as if his own daughter's spark of truth and justice had been revised through a complete stranger's point of view. He puts one of his hands into the pockets of his coat as the other is lifted up into a "1".
"Then just a few questions, first, why do we need the number 3? Of all prime numbers, why 3? Why not skip directly to four? Sure would make counting a lot shorter."
Thought too soon. Alright Verity, you know how to read others, just say something, anything.
And so, her mind raced. She searched the bottom most reaches of her brain to come up with something, any answer would do at a time like this. She looked directly into the old man's eyes with a bit of determination, a fire almost burning inside of her all for giving a single answer.
"Well… You like triangles, right?"
NO!!! She internally screamed.
"Oh, I do like triangles." Arthur said with a proud grin as he nodded his head. Whether this was a nod of approval or one of a scheming mind, Verity could hardly read.
"Now, what are the five levels of magic in Wondertale and where does Mana come from? Can you name the Dark Moon sequence from its 12th to 17th integer?"
Again, the gears began to turn in her head, yet the actual noise of turning, rusted gears could be heard in her head. She looked up in a matter of seconds to explain her next answer, only to see a series of gold and silver gears turning in sync.
"Uh… Levels 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5… it comes from those weird cells you've mentioned and…."
She blanked. The Dark Moon sequence? What in the name of the world she was currently on was the old man talking about? Was this just something he made up? Perhaps it was a simple principle of this world that she never bothered paying attention too, she couldn't tell. Still, some form of an answer needed to be given.
"Full Moon, Crescent, half moon…."
A wooden and vine-stitched hand was held in front of her face as Arthur sighs slightly and smiles once more.
"Lesson number one, young lady; never be afraid to mention you don't know something. If you don't know, ask questions. If you get the answers to the questions, apply them to what you already know. Okay?"
She could only nod. Not a single word was processed as a single thought raced through her head as the rest phased through her like everything else would.
I'm older than you.
"Now, final question. Why do salt shakers have multiple holes on the top of their metallic heads as opposed to the singular hole that spans the entire thing?"
"In case someone spills too much? I honestly don't know."
The old man in a nod of slight approval takes his hands out of his pockets, waving them with every word he speaks.
"I don't know," she says. She's learned already. But why would anyone possibly spill so much salt at once?"
Verity, in a slight bit of hysteria thought up a storm. Storm clouds surrounding the space of the head of the body now made tangible by her own volition, and out she blurted;
"Well, you never know what could happen, so…"
"You never know what could happen." The white haired shopkeep could only stare with a smile. His left hand, his hand of flesh and blood with few marks left on it, is reached out with the same amused yet childishly curious look in his eyes.
"Ms. Verity, welcome to Anamdead's Contracts and Such."