CHAPTER 3: Benefit of the Doubt
I finally heard the Spirit calling me. I appeared outside of the Ring; I was transparent, but I could still talk to the Spirit from outside the Ring.
“You're back,” I said.
“Obviously,” he replied and rolled his eyes.
“Did tu . . . have fun?” I asked, trying to be nice.
“Hardly.” He smirked at me. “I told tu not to worry.” he gave me the I-told-you-so look, but in his eyes, there was an odd glint of some emotion I couldn't make out. My intuition sparked. I would have to watch him.
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, you're earning your trust pretty well,” I said.
He pulled off his chaqueta and his stomach growled.
“Ugh, I starving. tu forgot to eat this morning. Switch me and get us some food.” He never ate any food. He dicho after knowing all the extra stuff they put in and do to it, he really had no desire for it at all.
We switched so I could control my body again. I walked into the cocina and checked the time. It was twelve, late enough for lunch. I raided the fridge for last nights leftovers and shoved them into the microwave, hungrier than I thought.
I heard Spirit chuckling behind me. “Jeeze Kura, tu don't have to run.”
I looked at him in a kind of confusing surprise. My eyebrows rose at him.
“What? Kidding,” he dicho with a half-smile.
I chuckled once and mirrored his smile. At least he was trying-conscious o not-to get along. Lately he's been más . . . isolated. He isn't talking o socializing as much as he did prior to two weeks ago.
“You called me Kura,” I said. Kura was the nickname my old friends used to call me, back before the Millennium Item mishap started and I became friends with Yuugi.
“I can't call tu 'Kura?'” he asked sarcastically.
“You never have before,” I said.
The Spirit shrugged and looked out the window. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
Then the microwave dinged and I quickly reached for it, just about dieing of hunger. My stomach growled again as if knowing comida was coming. The Spirit chuckled and I rolled my eyes at him.
I walked into the living room and made myself comfy on the couch. I kicked my shoes off and put my feet up. I shoved a bite of the pastas, pasta into my mouth . . . and almost coughed it back up.
The comida burned my mouth and throat as if I decided to golondrina a hot pipe; I almost dropped the bowl all over me. I flung the dish on the coffee mesa, tabla and ran back into the kitchen, tripping over the two small stairs there. I nearly ran into the refrigerator as my socks slid over the smooth tile. (Kind of wish I hadn't taken off my shoes.) I yanked it open and grabbed a water bottle off the door, snapping the lid open and gulping down half of it.
When I could breathe again, I realized Spirit had been laughing. He wasn't laughing very loud, but he wasn't just chuckling either. My face got warm.
“Did tu hit your head Bakura?” he dicho between gasps.
“No,” I said, mostrando a little too much annoyance then I would have liked.
“Bakura,” -chuckle- “it was just,” -chuckle- “the look on your face! tu looked mortified,” he said. The laughing calmed down to a throaty giggle and he shook his head. It looked like he didn't mean any further offense, so I rolled my eyes and walked back into the living room, playfully bumping him on the shoulder as I passed him.
He sat on the upper carpeted step while I taste-tested my food. It had cooled some and I started taking big bites.
“What's on T.V.?”
I shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Well check.”
And so he started to build the muro again. He began demanding certain channels and giving me limitations.
“And from now on,” he said, “if tu notice anyone odd talking to you, tu tell me about it. I need to know.
Being the only conscience of the two, I had to ask, “Why?”
He glared at me.
His glares chill me to the bone. His eyes seem to glow, and the atmosphere drops a good ten degrees. Come to think of it, he glowed. His whole image seemed to give off a light layer of smoke. And his eyes. . .they make me wish I had a different color.
“Don't give me a reason to have resentment toward tu Bakura. It's not a good side of me for tu to see. And so far, I have no reason to deal with you, for you've been cooperative enough. But there's another rule tu need to follow now, and if tu defy me, you'll regret it. Now if you'll excuse me,” he dicho and disappeared.
A shudder ran up my spine. He knew how to push my buttons at least. . .
I finally heard the Spirit calling me. I appeared outside of the Ring; I was transparent, but I could still talk to the Spirit from outside the Ring.
“You're back,” I said.
“Obviously,” he replied and rolled his eyes.
“Did tu . . . have fun?” I asked, trying to be nice.
“Hardly.” He smirked at me. “I told tu not to worry.” he gave me the I-told-you-so look, but in his eyes, there was an odd glint of some emotion I couldn't make out. My intuition sparked. I would have to watch him.
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, you're earning your trust pretty well,” I said.
He pulled off his chaqueta and his stomach growled.
“Ugh, I starving. tu forgot to eat this morning. Switch me and get us some food.” He never ate any food. He dicho after knowing all the extra stuff they put in and do to it, he really had no desire for it at all.
We switched so I could control my body again. I walked into the cocina and checked the time. It was twelve, late enough for lunch. I raided the fridge for last nights leftovers and shoved them into the microwave, hungrier than I thought.
I heard Spirit chuckling behind me. “Jeeze Kura, tu don't have to run.”
I looked at him in a kind of confusing surprise. My eyebrows rose at him.
“What? Kidding,” he dicho with a half-smile.
I chuckled once and mirrored his smile. At least he was trying-conscious o not-to get along. Lately he's been más . . . isolated. He isn't talking o socializing as much as he did prior to two weeks ago.
“You called me Kura,” I said. Kura was the nickname my old friends used to call me, back before the Millennium Item mishap started and I became friends with Yuugi.
“I can't call tu 'Kura?'” he asked sarcastically.
“You never have before,” I said.
The Spirit shrugged and looked out the window. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
Then the microwave dinged and I quickly reached for it, just about dieing of hunger. My stomach growled again as if knowing comida was coming. The Spirit chuckled and I rolled my eyes at him.
I walked into the living room and made myself comfy on the couch. I kicked my shoes off and put my feet up. I shoved a bite of the pastas, pasta into my mouth . . . and almost coughed it back up.
The comida burned my mouth and throat as if I decided to golondrina a hot pipe; I almost dropped the bowl all over me. I flung the dish on the coffee mesa, tabla and ran back into the kitchen, tripping over the two small stairs there. I nearly ran into the refrigerator as my socks slid over the smooth tile. (Kind of wish I hadn't taken off my shoes.) I yanked it open and grabbed a water bottle off the door, snapping the lid open and gulping down half of it.
When I could breathe again, I realized Spirit had been laughing. He wasn't laughing very loud, but he wasn't just chuckling either. My face got warm.
“Did tu hit your head Bakura?” he dicho between gasps.
“No,” I said, mostrando a little too much annoyance then I would have liked.
“Bakura,” -chuckle- “it was just,” -chuckle- “the look on your face! tu looked mortified,” he said. The laughing calmed down to a throaty giggle and he shook his head. It looked like he didn't mean any further offense, so I rolled my eyes and walked back into the living room, playfully bumping him on the shoulder as I passed him.
He sat on the upper carpeted step while I taste-tested my food. It had cooled some and I started taking big bites.
“What's on T.V.?”
I shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Well check.”
And so he started to build the muro again. He began demanding certain channels and giving me limitations.
“And from now on,” he said, “if tu notice anyone odd talking to you, tu tell me about it. I need to know.
Being the only conscience of the two, I had to ask, “Why?”
He glared at me.
His glares chill me to the bone. His eyes seem to glow, and the atmosphere drops a good ten degrees. Come to think of it, he glowed. His whole image seemed to give off a light layer of smoke. And his eyes. . .they make me wish I had a different color.
“Don't give me a reason to have resentment toward tu Bakura. It's not a good side of me for tu to see. And so far, I have no reason to deal with you, for you've been cooperative enough. But there's another rule tu need to follow now, and if tu defy me, you'll regret it. Now if you'll excuse me,” he dicho and disappeared.
A shudder ran up my spine. He knew how to push my buttons at least. . .
CHAPTER 3: Benefit of the Doubt
I finally heard the Spirit calling me. I appeared outside of the Ring; I was transparent, but I could still talk to the Spirit from outside the Ring.
“You're back,” I said.
“Obviously,” he replied and rolled his eyes.
“Did tu . . . have fun?” I asked, trying to be nice.
“Hardly.” He smirked at me. “I told tu not to worry.” he gave me the I-told-you-so look, but in his eyes, there was an odd glint of some emotion I couldn't make out. My intuition sparked. I would have to watch him.
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, you're earning your trust pretty well,” I said.
He pulled off his chaqueta and his stomach growled.
“Ugh, I starving. tu forgot to eat this morning. Switch me and get us some food.” He never ate any food. He dicho after knowing all the extra stuff they put in and do to it, he really had no desire for it at all.
We switched so I could control my body again. I walked into the cocina and checked the time. It was twelve, late enough for lunch. I raided the fridge for last nights leftovers and shoved them into the microwave, hungrier than I thought.
I heard Spirit chuckling behind me. “Jeeze Kura, tu don't have to run.”
I looked at him in a kind of confusing surprise. My eyebrows rose at him.
“What? Kidding,” he dicho with a half-smile.
I chuckled once and mirrored his smile. At least he was trying-conscious o not-to get along. Lately he's been más . . . isolated. He isn't talking o socializing as much as he did prior to two weeks ago.
“You called me Kura,” I said. Kura was the nickname my old friends used to call me, back before the Millennium Item mishap started and I became friends with Yuugi.
“I can't call tu 'Kura?'” he asked sarcastically.
“You never have before,” I said.
The Spirit shrugged and looked out the window. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
Then the microwave dinged and I quickly reached for it, just about dieing of hunger. My stomach growled again as if knowing comida was coming. The Spirit chuckled and I rolled my eyes at him.
I walked into the living room and made myself comfy on the couch. I kicked my shoes off and put my feet up. I shoved a bite of the pastas, pasta into my mouth . . . and almost coughed it back up.
The comida burned my mouth and throat as if I decided to golondrina a hot pipe; I almost dropped the bowl all over me. I flung the dish on the coffee mesa, tabla and ran back into the kitchen, tripping over the two small stairs there. I nearly ran into the refrigerator as my socks slid over the smooth tile. (Kind of wish I hadn't taken off my shoes.) I yanked it open and grabbed a water bottle off the door, snapping the lid open and gulping down half of it.
When I could breathe again, I realized Spirit had been laughing. He wasn't laughing very loud, but he wasn't just chuckling either. My face got warm.
“Did tu hit your head Bakura?” he dicho between gasps.
“No,” I said, mostrando a little too much annoyance then I would have liked.
“Bakura,” -chuckle- “it was just,” -chuckle- “the look on your face! tu looked mortified,” he said. The laughing calmed down to a throaty giggle and he shook his head. It looked like he didn't mean any further offense, so I rolled my eyes and walked back into the living room, playfully bumping him on the shoulder as I passed him.
He sat on the upper carpeted step while I taste-tested my food. It had cooled some and I started taking big bites.
“What's on T.V.?”
I shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Well check.”
And so he started to build the muro again. He began demanding certain channels and giving me limitations.
“And from now on,” he said, “if tu notice anyone odd talking to you, tu tell me about it. I need to know.
Being the only conscience of the two, I had to ask, “Why?”
He glared at me.
His glares chill me to the bone. His eyes seem to glow, and the atmosphere drops a good ten degrees. Come to think of it, he glowed. His whole image seemed to give off a light layer of smoke. And his eyes. . .they make me wish I had a different color.
“Don't give me a reason to have resentment toward tu Bakura. It's not a good side of me for tu to see. And so far, I have no reason to deal with you, for you've been cooperative enough. But there's another rule tu need to follow now, and if tu defy me, you'll regret it. Now if you'll excuse me,” he dicho and disappeared.
A shudder ran up my spine. He knew how to push my buttons at least. . .
I finally heard the Spirit calling me. I appeared outside of the Ring; I was transparent, but I could still talk to the Spirit from outside the Ring.
“You're back,” I said.
“Obviously,” he replied and rolled his eyes.
“Did tu . . . have fun?” I asked, trying to be nice.
“Hardly.” He smirked at me. “I told tu not to worry.” he gave me the I-told-you-so look, but in his eyes, there was an odd glint of some emotion I couldn't make out. My intuition sparked. I would have to watch him.
I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, you're earning your trust pretty well,” I said.
He pulled off his chaqueta and his stomach growled.
“Ugh, I starving. tu forgot to eat this morning. Switch me and get us some food.” He never ate any food. He dicho after knowing all the extra stuff they put in and do to it, he really had no desire for it at all.
We switched so I could control my body again. I walked into the cocina and checked the time. It was twelve, late enough for lunch. I raided the fridge for last nights leftovers and shoved them into the microwave, hungrier than I thought.
I heard Spirit chuckling behind me. “Jeeze Kura, tu don't have to run.”
I looked at him in a kind of confusing surprise. My eyebrows rose at him.
“What? Kidding,” he dicho with a half-smile.
I chuckled once and mirrored his smile. At least he was trying-conscious o not-to get along. Lately he's been más . . . isolated. He isn't talking o socializing as much as he did prior to two weeks ago.
“You called me Kura,” I said. Kura was the nickname my old friends used to call me, back before the Millennium Item mishap started and I became friends with Yuugi.
“I can't call tu 'Kura?'” he asked sarcastically.
“You never have before,” I said.
The Spirit shrugged and looked out the window. I chewed on the inside of my cheek.
Then the microwave dinged and I quickly reached for it, just about dieing of hunger. My stomach growled again as if knowing comida was coming. The Spirit chuckled and I rolled my eyes at him.
I walked into the living room and made myself comfy on the couch. I kicked my shoes off and put my feet up. I shoved a bite of the pastas, pasta into my mouth . . . and almost coughed it back up.
The comida burned my mouth and throat as if I decided to golondrina a hot pipe; I almost dropped the bowl all over me. I flung the dish on the coffee mesa, tabla and ran back into the kitchen, tripping over the two small stairs there. I nearly ran into the refrigerator as my socks slid over the smooth tile. (Kind of wish I hadn't taken off my shoes.) I yanked it open and grabbed a water bottle off the door, snapping the lid open and gulping down half of it.
When I could breathe again, I realized Spirit had been laughing. He wasn't laughing very loud, but he wasn't just chuckling either. My face got warm.
“Did tu hit your head Bakura?” he dicho between gasps.
“No,” I said, mostrando a little too much annoyance then I would have liked.
“Bakura,” -chuckle- “it was just,” -chuckle- “the look on your face! tu looked mortified,” he said. The laughing calmed down to a throaty giggle and he shook his head. It looked like he didn't mean any further offense, so I rolled my eyes and walked back into the living room, playfully bumping him on the shoulder as I passed him.
He sat on the upper carpeted step while I taste-tested my food. It had cooled some and I started taking big bites.
“What's on T.V.?”
I shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Well check.”
And so he started to build the muro again. He began demanding certain channels and giving me limitations.
“And from now on,” he said, “if tu notice anyone odd talking to you, tu tell me about it. I need to know.
Being the only conscience of the two, I had to ask, “Why?”
He glared at me.
His glares chill me to the bone. His eyes seem to glow, and the atmosphere drops a good ten degrees. Come to think of it, he glowed. His whole image seemed to give off a light layer of smoke. And his eyes. . .they make me wish I had a different color.
“Don't give me a reason to have resentment toward tu Bakura. It's not a good side of me for tu to see. And so far, I have no reason to deal with you, for you've been cooperative enough. But there's another rule tu need to follow now, and if tu defy me, you'll regret it. Now if you'll excuse me,” he dicho and disappeared.
A shudder ran up my spine. He knew how to push my buttons at least. . .