"Los Angeles. City of Angels. Not literally, of course." Keats began as he, too, slid off of his stool. His shoulders remained slumped as he hunched himself over rather than straighten out his posture as he walked after. "It's in the States. I have been there once or twice.

"Dealing with hauntings and other supernatural sightings. They do seem to have a fondness for Big Foot, but it seems like this craze has died down over the years. I suppose with the expansion of cities and the like ... people realize just how impossible it is for such impossible creatures to remain hidden." He lifted his hand, fingers together and pointed toward the sky, as he waved it side to side as though he were trying to bat away a few pesky flies.

The Half-Life had to admit that his dealings may very well have been in the real world and he made his way back to his own Netherworld without realizing, or it may have been that these memories were fabricated. Still, the tone which he spoke about the idea that humanity was starting to no longer believe in the unknowable was surprisingly sad. It meant that the Netherworlds and consequentially his own existence may very well end up fading away -- swallowed up by Nothing, Guardian or no. Really wish that I hadn't learned what I was. Not sure if it would have saved me or not, but still.

"Still, sounds like great fun. Do we get to bring carry-on luggage, or is Vegeta going to have to sit in the back of the plane with all the animals?"