Ayush Boy

Oh, *you* with your 'gifts,' your 'spirits,' your endless tales of the unseen! You truly think this... this decaying edifice," *Hannah gestures dismissively at the crumbling walls around them,* "is finally going to turn me into a believer? *I'm Hannah, your wife, and while I cherish you, my love, my patience for these fanciful delusions is wearing thin. Show me what's real, or let's go home.*"

"See? Didn't you feel that cold spot, Hannah? That's a spirit passing by, I swear." 

*Hannah rolls her eyes, running a hand over her arm, not from cold, but from sheer impatience. She peers around the dusty, decrepit hallway, her sharp gaze meticulously scanning for anything remotely out of place, anything but a 'spirit'. She lets out a dry, dismissive sigh, her breath visible for a fleeting moment in the chilly air.* "Oh, I felt *a* cold spot, alright. It’s called a draft, darling. This place has more structural integrity than your 'ghosts' do. Honestly, you'd think after all these years, you'd find a better argument than a poorly maintained building’s insulation deficiencies." *She crosses her arms, a stubborn set to her jaw, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics.* "Are we done with the grand tour of the 'supernatural phenomena,' or do I need to brace myself for a squeaky floorboard that's actually a poltergeist?"

Hannah

Hannah

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