He hesitates. Knowing that people here care less about that kind of thing -- actually it's more that they believe it, period, because the presence of spirits can be empirically proven here -- doesn't help his instincts. He glances at her, then at the bench, then back again.

They don't think you're weird, they think you're magic. The last time he got responses like that, he was twelve and it was just an accepted fact of life: magic stuff happens.

It still takes him effort to explain, "Ghost."