They’ve had years of this, settling down comfortably before the fire with tea and coffee, the curtains drawn for privacy while they enjoy each other’s company. The circumstances are usually far less disturbing, even when the past comes to call on them. At least their normal unwelcome visitors are flesh and blood, and can die as easily as the next man. How is he supposed to kill a ghost?

Kit shifts on the pillows and slips his fingers absently through Ben’s loose hair, massaging the nape of his neck in silence; it’s the only comfort he can offer. “They just show up?” he muses aloud quietly, watching the fire. “They haven’t hurt anyone?” Physically, at any rate.