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I think you're gonna feel like you belong

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Harley's excitement's piling up like the boxes in the rooms. She just loves newcomers, though they rarely appreciate her open arms. Or stay long for that matter.

This new tenant's a cute kid with long, candy cotton pink hair, watercolour tattoos trickling down her arms, and a skip in her step that already endears her to Harley. The movers leave as soon as they can, uncomfortable in the presence of the girl's friendly exuberance. Or maybe they'd heard the stories about the house.

It's getting dark when they're gone and the girl plugs in her radio for some pop tunes to make unpacking easier. That's Harley's cue. The radio hisses and squeals as she searches the stations for Alice Cooper's "Welcome to my Nightmare." Of course, no one ain't playing it, so she's gotta improvise with what's available.

Startled, the girl crosses over to examine the radio. It irks Harley a little how not frightened she is. So she does what she usually saves for later: she materializes. Cotton Candy Girl rewards her with a very satisfying yelp.

"Hiya, roomie," Harley chirps and hugs her.

"Oh," the girl says, not quite as spooked as Harley'd hoped, "I didn't know someone else was here." Then, "you're cold. Can I get you a blanket? Some tea, perhaps?"

Now it's Harley's turn to startle. "Uh, I'm always cold. Kinda the hallmark of being dead, ya know."

"You're... dead? But you're talking to me."

"Huh. I take it you've never seen a ghost before."