Callum's eyes widened in exaggerated surprise. "Whoa, didn't expect you to be so honest. No offense, but you didn't seem the type." Then he smiled again, gently, with just the slightest hint of pity. "Though I guess it's easier when someone else calls you out on it first, huh?"
Lyra was right; it
was unsettling to deal with another wild card. He almost felt a little sorry for having assessed her like one of his cases before. There was something about how familiar it felt -- like he could half guess what Callum might try next. He didn't like the idea that the wild cards were all so similar under the hood, the same cogs with a different coat of paint. "If you're trying to annoy me into leaving, it's not going to work." Bran's tone stayed light, mild and friendly and unbothered. He smiled at Callum, and Callum smiled back. They stood there for a moment, smiling pleasantly at one another. It was only years of practice, and the advice of a very concerned dentist some three or four years ago, that kept Bran from grinding his teeth.
"Alright then," said Callum. "If I can't get rid of you, I guess you might as well come. You don't mind if we have a third wheel, do you, Rory? Apparently he just can't stand to be left out."
Callum was good, Bran would give him that. He sounded oh so contrite, so very disappointed. And he spoke to his ghost as naturally as if the other boy was still alive, rather than some lingering presence only four people could see.