can't leave now, I'm haunted (Open)

Loren not afraid to use every trick in the book At Rexanna’s words, Loren stared at her, a dark and sad expression in his eyes, though his face was blank. It was kind of her to offer him her sympathies—kinder still for her to help him, even after what she’d suffered at the hands of his family—but he knew she’d despise him if she knew the real truth about him. “I’m well past my second, third, or even fourth chance,” he replied softly, knowing it to be true. Indeed, both life and people had given him far more chances than he had any right to expect, given how he squandered them. She pulls out a broom and he nodded approvingly. They may as well leave this place tidy for the next bartender and proprietor. He wasn’t surprised no one had taken over yet; lucrative as this place probably was, the person who took over here next would have big shoes to fill. The summoner conjured up a rag, then ducked out to the main to wet it in one of the water barrels. He came back to the backroom and started wiping down the dusty surfaces. It probably could’ve used soap (what with the objects they’d found and the stains he’d noticed), but he didn’t have any on hand and didn’t know where Edy had kept the cleaning supplies. Or even if she kept cleaning supplies. As Rexanna explained that their traditions were close to hers, he glanced up. “Similar, but not the same? What was different?” Unlike the rest of his family, Loren did not believe in doing the same thing just because it was how it had always been done. If there were other, better traditions to borrow from, then he’d happily steal them. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, after all. Besides, he was curious about this Ascended and Abandoned woman, with piercing eyes of sapphire, who was bothering to spend time with Loren even when he was a less than pleasant conversational partner. His suggestion had been half made in jest, but the blue-eyed woman took it completely seriously. Loren paused in wiping down his latest shelf, tossing the rag over one shoulder as he stepped back to consider the Rathskellar. “It could work.” His voice was doubtful and hesitant: while he agreed that people would come, he just didn’t know if it would be a good idea. “I’m not much of a party planner or a host.” He took a deep breath. “But she was the favorite, and the best of us. So if you think people really would want to celebrate her, I’ll help.” It would be a lot of work on such short notice. Yet another task to add to his rapidly growing list. However, it was better to be busy, since it left him with no time to think.