Kant opened one of the books they were handed. There was no title on the cover, and the letters on the pages were tiny.
Without his glasses, reading it was going to take too much effort. On the bright side, getting a headache from eye strain was better than lying in a coffin after overdose.
Gabriel peered over Kant's shoulder. "Now, that's a word-packed page. Can you even see the letters?" He grinned. "Or should I read it out loud for you like a bedtime story?"
Kant squinted at the page, but decided to leave it alone for now. He glanced at the round table in the center of the room, which was cluttered with colorful paper, ribbons, tiny trinkets, dried flowers, markers, and small tubs of glue.
It looked like something straight out of a kindergarten craft day. Seeing people slowly move to the table, he followed suit and took a seat further away from others, on a more stranded side of the wide table.
Hunter, refusing to join until the very last second, ended up being dragged to the table by a bunch of very chatty elderly ladies. He sat on the opposite side from Kant, forced to listen to petty gossip and talks about aching joints.
Sandra clapped her hands together, beaming. "Now, everyone, feel free to grab whatever materials speak to you! This is a time for creativity."
Hunter shot a hopeless look at Kant, unable to get away from the old folk. Meanwhile, Gabriel leaned over the table curiously, his eyes darting between the dried flowers and other trinkets.
"I have to admit, this is pretty nice," Gabriel murmured, stopping by Kant to watch what he would pick.
Kant eyed the materials, none of them particularly calling his name. After all, ribbons couldn't speak.
In the first place, he didn't see the point of this activity. Why was there a need to make a bookmark? Any piece of paper could do the job just fine.
Gabriel chuckled, watching his struggle. "Why are you thinking so hard about it? Just pick whatever you like."
Kant glanced at the ghost, then reached for a piece of thick, blue paper. But a pair of slender fingers snatched it, and pushed a beige piece of paper towards him instead.
"This is a better base. Blue's not friendly with many colors," Gabriel remarked.
Kant couldn't help the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. One moment Gabriel was telling him to not take it too seriously, and the next one he was nitpicking the color of the paper.
He reached for some markers, planning to avoid having to glue anything, but Gabriel secretly slid the tub away from him. The ghost stared at the colorful supplies like a kid in a candy store.
"The dried forget-me-nots are well-preserved... That blue would look really nice on beige," Gabriel murmured. "We could add some gold elements and line the edges with the champagne colored ribbon... Let's go for a vintage charm."
Kant raised an eyebrow, suppressing a chuckle. Suddenly, it was a 'we' project? What he had considered a waste of time was turning into the ghost's playtime.
"If you arrange it right, ours has the potential to be the best in the room," Gabriel eagerly tapped the materials he wanted Kant to pick out. "Not that it's a competition, but let's be real—it is."
Kant decided to humor Gabriel, and followed his instructions, taking his time to arrange each element as directed.
However, it quickly turned frustrating.
"No, no, not like that." The ghost winced as Kant glued the ribbon he had picked out. "The corner, the corner—no, don't fold it like that. Wait, that side's uneven, don't glue it yet."
After about ten minutes of being micromanaged, Kant almost glared, but managed to catch himself. He was trying to be patient, but the ghost wouldn't let him be.
"Ugh, Kant, you're taking too long." Gabriel grimaced at the uneven folds. "And it looks like a chicken stepped on it. Can't you do it neater?"
"Would you just—" Kant blurted out, but stopped mid-sentence, feeling the eyes on him. He cleared his throat and asked someone on the other side to pass him the blue marker to cover it up.
"Gold marker," Gabriel corrected.
"And the gold marker, please," Kant added, shooting the ghost an annoyed glance. He was this close to telling the ghost to just do it himself.
As Kant battled the ribbon again, Gabriel's patience ran out as well. "Ah, just let me!" He took over, rearranging the ribbon the way it was supposed to be.
Hoping no one would notice the bookmark making itself, Kant kept an eye out for any curious glances.
The others at the table were busy scribbling or sticking things to their bookmarks. The room was filled with sounds of shuffling paper and the blend of the faint scent of dried flowers and the sharper, sour scent of glue.
Hunter on the other side looked like he was in absolute misery, staring at his own bookmark as if it personally offended him. He held a marker as if it were a fat, ugly scalpel, then looked at the ceiling, counting minutes until this would end.
"Here. Glue it," Gabriel directed impatiently, holding the ribbon down.
Kant exhaled and dabbed the glue onto the bookmark. Who knew a bookmark could turn into such a serious matter for someone dead?
The next time he glanced up again, he noticed a young woman sneaking a curious glance their way. She tried to hide it by looking away, but her gaze kept returning to Kant.
"Someone's watching," he whispered under his breath, subtly gesturing for Gabriel to let go.
The ghost's eyes followed his line of sight, spotting the young woman gazing at Kant. "Who?"
The young woman focused on her own bookmark for a moment, but glanced back again soon enough.
"What's she looking at?" Gabriel muttered as he crossed to Kant's other side, positioning himself between them, as if he could cut off her view. "Looking for her next boyfriend or something?"
As the workshop was coming to an end, the members were asked to put their bookmarks on display for everyone to go around the table, and observe each others' work.
The old ladies gathered around Kant and Gabriel's bookmark, praising the intricate decorations and tasteful arrangement, while Hunter looked at it as if he had seen a fish grow legs and walk.
He looked up at Kant with a comment on the tip of his sharp tongue, but before he could speak, the woman with the bob wrapped up the workshop, dismissing everyone with a kind reminder to read twenty pages of the book until tomorrow.
Hunter wasn't going to waste another second. He picked up his minimalistic black-marker-on-black-paper bookmark and left as if chased out.
The young woman, who was staring at Kant earlier, waited a few moments for the old ladies to move on before approaching.
Gabriel tilted his head, frowning slightly, but didn't utter a word, walking around to check out other members' bookmarks.
"It's lovely," she said, running her fingers gently over his bookmark, "You have a good artistic eye."