A gloved hand flitted to Ida’s mouth as she laughed, quietly amused by the thought of one’s job prospects as a spirit. “Oh, I am sure you could negotiate to keep your place at the Ministry,” she encouraged. “But the real hurdle might be convincing them to still pay you. Unless you would continue working out of the goodness of your ghostly heart?” Surely Mister Greengrass would rather do other things with endless time, not that she knew what he liked to do besides reading poetry— or what ghosts could do either, now that she thought about it. She could see how passing through all solid objects could be incredibly frustrating, and even get in the way of reading properly.

He was grinning now, over the polka of all things, and it was the kind of smile that made Ida smile too. She nodded her head approvingly as he promised to lead her the right way, not that she was particularly worried about being at fault for stepping on a few toes (literally and metaphorically). A small part of her was still faintly worried about why Mister Greengrass was having such a nice time, like she was conning him. Not that she was, exactly. But she had all intentions of being seen with men with zero intentions to follow through on marriage, so it felt a little odd when the man in question wasn’t aware of her little ruse. It made her feel guilty. Like she was wasting his time.

“I’ll gladly follow your lead. Not that I was ever a polka enthusiast or anything,” she waved as though batting the idea aside. “But I broke my ankle some months back, so I’ve fallen out of practice until recently.”

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