Here we go again! Pick one!
(Prompt from CallMeGallifreya on Tumblr)
I was making tea when she walked into the house as if she owned it. For all I know, she did. I'm... well... more sort of a 'permanent tenant'. Many have tried to get rid of me. It never sticks.
She wore black. I put the teapot down and said, "You're not one of those occultists, are you? You mind your candles, I'm not going to let you burn my house down."
"No, I just like black." She goggled at me. I was used to that. And then she smiled. I wasn't used to that. "They tried to warn me about you. Hi. I'm Chandry."
"Gladys," I said. I'd shake her hand, but... well... people don't like the cold and clammy feeling as my ethereal form passes through their flesh. "You have no qualms about living with the undead, then?"
"Oh hell no. I spend most of my time working with people from ages ago. How long have you been here?"
"Oh, since about the Great War. Let me finish putting the tea on..."
"I haven't connected the water and electricity, yet..."
"That's never seemed to matter to me. Although... you might want a cardigan."
"I spend most of my days in feral air conditioning. I'm immune to the cold."
"Well... the last owner insisted I make the ice box freeze over whenever I put tea on. Said it saved him a lot of money."
Chandry sighed and pulled a cloak out of her suitcase. "Fine. Bring it. Let's talk about life two hundred years ago while you manifest some tea..."