[Blake about expects that look. He's done plenty to earn it.

He gives him a flat look back. Crisis of conscience or not, that's hard to take.] You're a detective.

[and then, in a day full of feeling like somebody miles removed from himself, he does the strangest thing he could.

He listens.

After some thought, he shakes his head.]

Some kinda ghost police...Shit. I don't know if I believe you, and I don't think it fuckin' matters.

Whether you're on a mission from God or not, it doesn't change where we are.

[Before he can sink back into black dejection, a crease appears between his eyes.] Spirits? Like in that story of yours?