Joan returned with Saiki's group to find the common lounge embroiled in a fierce dispute.
Two distinct factions had formed among the original guests. One group, represented primarily by the 'life winner' Abel and the thuggish Ryan, firmly believed that the recent events were part of a premeditated assassination plot, the motives unclear, but the killer definitely lurking somewhere within the hotel itself.
The other faction, consisting mainly of the Black rapping man and Abel's two mistresses (Lin and Julian?), argued vehemently that such bizarre, high-difficulty, locked-room murders could only be the work of a ghost. The debate over the existence of ghosts versus a human killer had grown increasingly heated, escalating to the point where violence seemed imminent.
Joan quickly inserted herself between the arguing parties. "This is no time for infighting!" she cried out. "Do you want that ghost to pick us all off while we're busy squabbling?"
"Aha! So you're one of them too!" Ryan immediately categorized Joan, giving her a shove towards the 'Team Ghost' side. Honestly, the man recovered like some kind of unkillable cockroach; despite the beating Peter gave him, he was back to full health and full volume remarkably quickly.
Ryan looked ready to continue arguing with the Black man and the others, but his gaze inadvertently fell upon Peter and his companions. Like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, Ryan bristled instantly, practically jumping up. "Why haven't these brats fucked off yet?!" he snarled.
Joan, seemingly emboldened by the presence of her new 'allies,' coolly warned him, "Show them some respect, Ryan. They're our only hope of getting out of this alive."
"Are you kidding me? These kids haven't even hit puberty!" Ryan scoffed dismissively.
Pietro decided he couldn't let Joan's (albeit fabricated) faith in him go unanswered. He nonchalantly cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing sharp and loud in the tense room, and fixed Ryan with a predatory smirk. "Questioning my abilities, are we? If you'd like, I can give you another 'wake-up call,' just like my friend did earlier. Refresh your memory."
"..." Ryan's eyes widened, the memory of being slammed face-first onto the floor clearly flashing through his mind. He clenched his jaw tightly, visibly swallowing his anger, and reluctantly backed down.
With Team Human Killer suddenly deprived of its loudest, most arrogant mouthpiece, Team Ghost immediately gained the upper hand in the argument. Unable to counter effectively, Ryan could only shoot a desperate, pleading look towards Abel, who had remained seated silently on the sofa throughout the commotion.
Receiving the silent appeal, Abel sighed, stood up, and began walking towards Pietro's group. Just as Pietro braced himself, assuming Abel was coming to defend his lackey, Abel walked right past him, much to Pietro's visible annoyance. (What the hell? Does everyone just ignore me? Do I have 'cannon fodder' written on my face?)
Abel stopped directly in front of Saiki Kusuo.
"Do you also believe," Abel inquired, his tone serious, "that a ghost is responsible for what's happening here?"
Saiki was mildly surprised. He'd been deliberately keeping a low profile; why was this man suddenly seeking his opinion? After confirming with a subtle glance that Abel was indeed addressing him, Saiki gave a slow nod. "Yes. My friend encountered her in the bathroom."
He desperately wanted to just reveal the truth about Wright's body being a mannequin and watch this group tear itself apart with suspicion and infighting. But Pietro had explicitly warned him – no spoilers, or face the consequence of Pietro permanently freeloading at his house. So, Saiki dutifully stuck to the script Pietro wanted, placing the 'ghost' narrative firmly back in their court.
"Tch. Listen to yourself, spouting absolute nonsense," Ryan sneered before Abel could even respond. Saiki decided this guy's mouth ran more incessantly than Peter's, maybe even more than that annoying medium he knew. Ryan's constant yapping reminded him unpleasantly of a middle-aged woman haggling loudly over vegetables at the market.
He turned to the fashionable woman, Lin. "Do you happen to have a needle?"
Lin shot him a nasty look. "No."
Saiki then turned to Abel's other companion, Julian. "How about you?"
Julian, who seemed younger, more cheerful, and considerably better-tempered than Lin, nodded obediently, though clearly puzzled. "Yes, I do."
"Excellent," Saiki said, holding out his hand. "Give it to me."
Julian handed over a small sewing needle, having thoughtfully already threaded it for him. Saiki accepted it, then turned his unnervingly calm gaze upon Ryan.
Abel's eyelid twitched nervously. He quickly stepped forward before Saiki could act. "What are you planning?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. "Let's not be hasty."
"I'm not planning anything much," Saiki replied with a disarming shrug. "I just find this fellow incredibly noisy. I was merely considering sewing his mouth shut."
A collective horrified silence fell over the room.
Lin stared at Saiki as if he were a lunatic. "You... you can't do that! That's a crime!" she gasped, covering her mouth.
"A crime?" Wanda, fully grasping Saiki's intimidation tactic, let out a cold smirk. She reached out and pinched Lin's tear-streaked cheeks, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. "Do we look like we're afraid of committing crimes?"
Saiki intentionally lowered his voice, adding to the menacing effect. Peter, taking the cue perfectly, casually flicked his hands, drawing attention to the faint, dried bloodstains – Ryan's blood – still visible on his fingertips.
The effect was instantaneous and profound. Lin, the pampered high-society miss, stopped crying abruptly and began to tremble uncontrollably. Ryan, too, immediately clammed up, looking genuinely frightened.
Much better, Saiki thought. If you're going to ask for help, you need to adopt the proper attitude. You don't have to grovel, but at least refrain from spouting nonsense that irritates your potential saviors.
Abel sighed again, clearly recognizing defeat. He conceded, "Alright. Fine. I believe you. For the sake of argument, let's just say there is a ghost!"
Just when a semblance of order seemed restored, Ryan jumped up again, looking furious. "Abel, you can't possibly—!!"
Abel cut him off sharply, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "Joan is right, Ryan. This is absolutely not the time for infighting! Our lives could be on the line here! Instead of wasting energy arguing about whether there's a ghost, we should be focusing all our attention on figuring out how to get out of this godforsaken place!" He gestured towards Peter. "And consider this: based on how easily he took you down earlier, if he were the killer, doubling our numbers wouldn't be enough to stop him. Stop being so paranoid, Ryan. These people are our friends now, not our enemies."
Abel, clearly the educated one of the group, spoke logically and persuasively. Truly living up to his 'life winner' status.
Thoroughly chastised, Ryan grumbled unwillingly under his breath, slumped back down onto the sofa, and turned his head away petulantly. "Fine," he muttered sulkily. "Do whatever you want."
With a fragile truce established among the ten remaining people in the lounge, Joan bustled about eagerly, fetching stools for Saiki, Peter, Pietro, and Wanda. After Pietro sat down, she positioned herself behind him and began attentively massaging his shoulders, treating him like a young master being waited on hand and foot.
Pietro leaned back, thoroughly enjoying the service, and shot Wanda a smug, eyebrow-waggling look of triumph. Wanda returned the look with undisguised envy, feeling distinctly unbalanced by the unfairness of it all.
Saiki glanced at Joan's solicitous actions, then at Pietro's blissful expression. He decided, magnanimously, not to inform Pietro that Joan's current attentiveness likely had less to do with admiration and more to do with pragmatically assessing his physical toughness – specifically, whether he looked sturdy enough to survive a direct hit from the "female ghost" they might encounter later.
Meanwhile, the Black rapping man, seated near Wanda, was slurping his tea noisily. Wanda slowly turned her head and fixed him with a quiet, intense stare. Noticing her gaze lingering on him, the man flinched, his hand trembling so violently he nearly dropped his cup. He scrambled nervously, fumbled with some tea leaves, then hurried over to the water dispenser, filled a paper cup, and scurried back to offer it to Wanda with an excessively eager smile.
"Here you go, beautiful lady. Tea?"
Wanda gave him a look that clearly conveyed "About time you showed some sense," accepted the cup, and downed the tea in one long, audible slurp.
The rest of the room stared in bewildered silence. The Black man quickly went back to the dispenser to get her a refill.
Abel cleared his throat, trying to break the awkward tension and steer things back to the pressing matter at hand. "Uh... Mr. Saiki," he began hesitantly, "I suspect you might not fully grasp the intricacies of our situation here. Would you permit me to explain everything from the beginning?" He seemed anxious to advance the plot before another chapter devolved into random character interactions.
At his words, everyone in the room turned their collective attention towards Abel, their expressions uniformly expectant, clearly conveying a silent, universal sentiment:
"Okay. Please begin your performance."
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