Even Macnair saying look couldn’t drag Ford from his self-imposed pillow isolation immediately, and by the time Ford hesitantly peeked out from above the pillow Macnair was already half dressed. Ford blinked at him, color rising in his cheeks. He felt guilty. Ghosts were his thing, and if Macnair had originally asked him here to deal with one it wasn’t like he wanted to just walk away from it now. On the other hand, he would have rather faded into the wallpaper itself than had to talk to the ghost who’d just walked (floated) in on them both naked in bed.

“No, I can —” he started, his voice still a little shaky at the prospect. Ford shut his eyes and tried to remember what Macnair had even said about the ghost, back on the first night, and — he really hadn’t been paying that much attention, because he really hadn’t thought there was even the slightest chance the ghost was real. “You said he goes through multiple properties?” Ford recalled, hoping he was remembering correctly. “So you’d need Spirit Division involved anyway. It’s — I can figure it out.”

(He’d have to).

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