The ghost tugs at his sleeve. That's the fifth one this evening. They were growing more and more restless by the minute, demanding blood. Fingers plunge into murky brown, searing himself provides much-needed clarity. The plastic cup tips over when he withdraws his hand, its contents spilling over newly-completed paperwork. He mutters profanity after profanity under his breath but moves to rewrite them either way. Torturing himself with paperwork was preferable to interacting with ghosts intent on leeching off of him after all.

Detective Eerie Archambeau. Thirty. Famed for his volatile temperament, precariously teeters between rehearsed magnanimity and instinctual choler. Raised by a notorious occultist. Rumored to commune with ghosts, some even going as far to say that he can bargain with them. Won't dignify any inquiry about his so-called ability.