What? [ Once it's apparent that she's not, say, trailing blood and nothing's pursuing them, Jimmy slows to a walk. A trudge. He rubs his hands together as he goes, cupping and huffing into them once in a while. ] Ha, well, it just so happens I was also planning on not meeting a soggy demise, so let's call it even.

[ She's treated to a short-lived silent spell while he luxuriates in the certainty that the pond and its contents are safely behind them. The temporary freedom from otherworldly bullshit. ] You're new, huh? [ It's sympathetic, though—like most of what comes out of Jimmy's mouth—not quite convincingly sincere. After a beat he continues in matter-of-fact tour guide tones: ] So I'm guessing that was a ghost. They're all over the place. Some are scary, others are like...you know they'd be cutting you off in traffic if they were alive, but basically harmless. But in my experience [ all of two months ] they all want something. And most of the time that something is, one, incredibly specific and two, completely irrational. The rules of logic do not apply.

Know any toddlers? Kind of like that, honestly.