Beckett sighed heavily, scooting to the side slightly and ignoring Zelda's soft noise of protest. He was still laying down, but there was now enough room for another person on the couch. "C'mon, Si. Sit down." He was still drowsy, but he was awake enough to process that Simon had to be at least a bit uncomfy on the floor. Probably.
"Don't ever. Call. Me. Si," Simon said. "Ever." Regardless, Simon sat on the arm of the couch, glaring at Beckett.
He laughed, nudging Simon with his foot playfully. "Whatever you say, Si." Beckett hadn't meant to give him a nickname, it'd just slipped out. That happened often when he was tired.
Simon frowned. "I'm beginning to regret my life choices," he said ruefully.
Beckett chuckled. "Yeah, that sounds about right." As he brainstormed other strange and hilarious nicknames to give Simon, Zelda strutted across the couch and headbutted his knee. The scene was strangely wholesome.
"I'm going to the attic," Simon announced, got up and went up the stairs without another word.
"W-huh? Why?" Confused about the sudden change, Beckett scrambled to his feet and awkwardly followed. He didn't have anything better to do anyway.
"Because I'm bored, and I can tell that you're about to call me something like 'Spooky-boy' or 'Muffin Tin.' Simon glanced back at Beckett.
"Spooky-boy." Beckett snickered quietly to himself at that one. "I haven't been up to the attic in months, what up there is entertaining?" He supposed there might be old board games or clothes, but there couldn't be much.
"The window. I can see the street behind us from there. I like to sit by it." He shrugged.
"O-oh!" It made sense in hindsight, that Simon would enjoy watching the street. He said he couldn't leave the house, so that was kind of the next best thing. "…D-did you want to be alone? 'C-cause I can totally go back d-downstairs if you want-"
Simon shrugged. “As long as you’re quiet, you can come with me.” He sat cross-legged in front of the window, arms on the windowsill.
"…Okay." He slowly took a seat next to Simon, hugging his knees to his chest. He'd never really just… watched out the window before, it was peaceful. A bird flew by every now and then, and people strolled by on the sidewalks with an occasional dog. It was nice.
Simon watched the outside world carefully, taking mental notes of what was happening. "I wish I could go outside," he said sadly.
Beckett lip quirked up a bit at Simon's attempt at conversation after telling him to be quiet. He didn't say anything about it, though. "If it's okay for me to ask… why can't you?"
"I'm linked to this house. When I try to leave, I just reappear inside the house." He glanced at Beckett. "Why are you smiling?"
"N-nothing! No reason." He pretended to clear his throat to cover up a soft chuckle. "That, uh- that really sucks. If there's anything you want, I could get some more entertaining things for you to do!"
Simon shrugged. "Some new books would be nice. I've read all of the ones you have at least twice."
Beckett's eyes widened and he grinned. "Oh! We could get some from the shop!" He'd almost forgotten that he worked at a book store. His face fell just as quickly upon remembering that Simon would never be able to see it. "I kinda wish you could just go there too, but… We'll figure something out. I can bring some home."
"Alright," Simon said and resumed looking out the window. "It's going to rain soon. And you should go to work."
Beckett quirked an eyebrow in mild amusement. "I don't work until later. Night shift, remember?" This whole situation was so foreign. He kept almost forgetting that Simon wasn't alive.
"Oh," Simon said noncommittally, watching a bird wheel overhead. "Alright then." Idly, he pulled on his hair, the first drops of rain splattering on the window.
If it were anyone else, Beckett likely would have gently scolded them for tugging on their hair. Simon was dead, though, so he supposed it wasn't doing any damage. But would it do damage? He didn't really know ghost logic. "Careful," he mumbled quietly, almost immediately embarrassed about saying something.
"What?" he yelped, slightly startled. "What is it?" He looked at Beckett, scrutinizing him. "Is something wrong?"
Beckett felt his face grow hot in embarrassment. "I- uhm- well-" He cleared his throat. "N-nevermind…" He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to focus on anything else.