The amount of times Beck resorted to wandering thanks to his plague of boredom had at least surpassed the thousands by now. He had done everything there was to do in the afterlife within the first few decades, and the next couple were spent haunting houses and rotting in front of a television screen. God, he would kill just to be able to watch the late night-early morning infomercials and horror flicks again. But out in the middle of a swamp, he didn't have anything. Maybe he should scrounge in the junkyard close to town for a t.v. set; he'd be able to repair and power it, right? Watching static electricity crackle across his unscathed paw with a scowl of discontent, Beck debated on moving from his perch between a mangrove's trunk and a low-hanging branch, idly swinging a hind foot off the limb. On one hand, he was bored out of his mind. On the other hand, there wasn't exactly anything better to do -- he thought leading an entire group would give him more to do.

    A familiar voice settled the argument for him, rambling out to herself as if no one was listening. Ears perking in renewed curiosity, the poltergeist nimbly clambered down from his branch, landing with little more than a rustle in the wilted foliage. Lantern-like eyes glinted from the brambles as he watched Nayru gush over a plain old flower, announcing his presence before he abruptly rasped, "What's so great 'bout a lousy flower?" While his tone was crass and disapproving, he stalked closer to squint down at the lily, pointedly ignoring Morgan as he shook thorns from his mangy flanks. It was true he hadn't seen the plant setting roots anywhere within the swamp's borders, but it was also true that Beck hadn't been paying any attention to the specific types of flowers sprouting all over. He wasn't that bored to go around naming off every little cattail and dandelion underfoot.