The caretaker shoots Xiè Lián a sharp look, as if to suggest he is speaking far too much and out of turn, but for the moment the cutlery remains on the table.

"You are dismissed," the ghost allows, then as Wrathion begins to push to his feet: "no rushing!"

Wrathion slows down, gritting his teeth, but removes himself from the table all the same. He offers a sarcastic partial bow.

"Thank you for the hospitality."

Truly, it was terrible. The outfit itches.

A small spoon flies past Wrathion as he moves away from the table, and he sighs in irritation.

"I dislike this building."

Just in case there was any doubt.