"What if I told you that I could take care of your ghost problem?"
After a minute of sombre silence, Scar finally spoke up. He steepled his fingers in front of him and leaned on his elbows, like he was some maniacal business man conducting a shady deal.
The drunken mayfly raised his head from the table, strings of saliva sticking to his cheek from the puddle that had rapidly formed on the table. He looked at Scar with half open eyes, frowning as if he was concentrating on stopping his vision from swimming around, before letting out a drunken laugh.
"Take care of it? Pfft... You think you're some kind of ghostbuster or something? I think you forgot your light up backpack at home. Or were you planning on going out there with a cross and waving some sage in their faces while they gut you."
He thrust his hand in Scar's face, waving invisible incense before breaking down into more laughter. However, after a few seconds the laughter faltered slowly before stopping all together.
