[ stories they.. have from people? he gives him a curious glance at that, wondering what sort of office collects ghost stories. what is it that he.. does, exactly? do they edit paranormal non-fiction or something..?

he opens the cabinet to get mugs down, nearly dropping one as martin asks about that. ] Um. [ he stares down unseeingly at the mug for a few moments, temples beginning to throb in spite of himself. he's not even looking, not really. he's not hearing, or-- or remembering, or any of that.

he takes a careful breath and turns back to martin, setting the mugs down on the table. ] .. Bit of both, [ he admits with a crooked half-smile. ] There's, um.. angels and demons? And.. other.. things. Witches and the like, stuff that ain't.. uh, ain't none of that. I don't know how to, uh, to.. classify it, I guess, and I don't really ask.

[ he turns to the fridge to get cream out, the cabinet for sugar, a drawer for spoons.

when he returns to the table, he sinks slowly down into the other chair, looking a little dizzy for a moment as martin's face fuzzes briefly out with that weird.. foggy something again. ] I've met a coupla' angels. No demons, though. Don't really wanna'. [ though he knows he--or rather, He--did something to them that they never could have deserved. ]