Heroes never die? [Semi-Open]

It was good to get a breath of fresh air. It was too much if a hassel to crawl out into the forest, he figured, but if he the rooftops then he could at least appreciate some sort of view before the snow piled on again. Oliver wasn't built for the freezing winter, it'd taken him exactly one chilly evening and retarded looking snowman to decide he was done with all that.

The young man let out a loud, drawling yawn as he reached the last step, swinging through the heavy metal doors, not bothering to hide his presence in the least. While he didn't expect to see anyone else up there along with him, he was sure he shouldn't have been surprised. Some girl around his own age, holding her hand up to the thin air, staring away at nothing. He frowned, shifting around place. What, was she crazy, chatting it up with herself? (He shouldn't have been surprised by that either, knowing this place.)

"Who are you talking to?" Oliver called over, crossing his arms together and puffing out a cloud of air.

He didn't care much for what she looked like. Tacky outfits aside, what concerned him was how she didn't seem surprised by his question at all. If anything, she seemed almost used to it. People weren't supposed to talk to thin air. It wasn't normal. Oliver scoffed under his breath, shrugging his shoulders. "Ghost aren't real," He mused with a long yawn, warm air billowing out into a chilly cloud. "How can you be so sure?" At least he were curious for her answer.

Or maybe she just had a vivid imagination. In truth, Oliver hadn't wanted to believe. In a school where people were literally spitting fire or moving things with their mind or shooting lightning out of their fingers like Palpatine, he knew it wasn't totally outlandish to imagine that some strange girl could talk to spirits or whatever. If they were real. He wanted to cling to some notion that he still understood how the world worked. How his brother had gotten so cozy in this place, he'd never know.

Oliver took a few steps forward, leaning in close and shooting her a questioning gaze. "Prove it."

Blue eyes flickered to the ground for a mere moment, one of the school's proudest framed, surrounded by flowers and candles and other farewells. He could hardly say he knew the guy, but it hurt to lool at all the same. Olive always had wanted to talk to him, at least, just once. Maybe she was just grieving madness.

Oliver tilted his head aside, his blue eyes shooting back up towards the girl. The way she spoke, the subtle sadness to her words, it was almost believable. A truly convincing show for most, he was certain, but the young man couldn't help but remain skeptical all the same. "Old ... Thomas...?" He repeated, muttering under his breath. It took little longer than that the moment he saw the... whatever it was just flash into existence for him to lose himself. He let out an embarrassing yelp, taking a few steps back and doing his damned all to not fall back on his ass.

It was a cat. Just a cat...? "It's a ..." The cherry-blond huffed, eying the thing wide eyes. "Ghost cat. It's a ghost cat." She stayed so calm about the entire thing, and yet still he couldn't help but wonder if this was some trick or if there were a projector or something around. The truth refused to sink in. "That's... weird. Does it bite or anything?" He could've smacked himself then. It was an imaginary feline. Of course it wouldn't bite.

Still, he found himself cautious as he brought himself down onto one knee, peering closer with a determined frown etched into his face as he poked a curious finger forward towards the freaky... floating... whatever it was.