Sitting up, Gansey stretched his arms over his head and then rested his forearms on his knees. For a moment, he merely studied his ghost. There was nothing about the man that was expected. He didn't revel in blood, didn't run off to torture the singers, didn't even murder Gansey after he'd fallen into his trap. He cooked and read books.

"I'm all right," Gansey smiled. "Still content from earlier." Clasping his hands together, he leveled with his captor.

"Right now, I would very much like it if we could talk."