The mansion that her cartel was inhabiting was old. It was functioning and safe, of course, but it had a history behind it; one that made even the men of hers that she considered brave uneasy.

It was one of the nights she let herself get a little drunk. She stumbled slightly as she entered her bedroom, her vision a little blurred by the drink that was still flooding her system. She caught something out of the corner of her still careful vision. A movement, just a slight shift that moved her lightweight curtains. She knew how wind worked, and she knew it wasn't wind. And then she heard the laughter.

It was soft; innocent, like a tease, yet mocking in its own way. You can't see me!

She knew that nobody was in her room, either. Nothing, especially not a human being, got by her, so she came to the conclusion that whatever was invading her privacy wasn't human. At least, not anymore. She breathed out softly, and felt the room shift. She knew the noise caught it's, or their, attention.

Perhaps she was just that drunk, or maybe she'd spent too much time alone, but the sound of a companion, and one that betray her nor be seen sounded enticing.

She grinned, slowly lifting her tank top over her head, feeling the chill of ghostly hands gliding over her back, resting over her ribs. She'd put some salt on the doorway later to confine the spirit to her room, but for now, she was content to just toy with it.