Breya didn't fall asleep again. Instead, she stayed up, thinking back to her interview and pawing through the manila folder she had conjured. It held all the dry, boring facts about Francois, like his home address, bank accounts, social security number, and micromort rating. His accumulative micromorts were lower than the average, which wasn't unusual when it came to haunting victims. Shut-ins rarely had run-ins with danger.<br/><br/>As Breya scanned the last piece of paper, her eyes drifted to the bottom right corner of the folder, which was stamped with an imposing jet-black signet of a ram's skull and thorns.<br/><br/>It was the<a class="postlink" href="https://i.imgur.com/qbLHhg9.png">seal of Argus Black</a>, her employer.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">The door swung open smoothly, with little resistance. Breya was surprised; the door itself looked large and imposing, like the kind that one would push their shoulder against to open.<br/><br/>With the door open, Breya felt a chill run through her body and make a home deep inside her chest. Her eyes strained to see through the darkness ahead of her. She stumbled forward, posture hunched and hands slightly protecting her face in case there was something hiding in the darkness. <br/><br/>"Would you like some light, my dear?"<br/><br/>A deep voice called to Breya from the dark, followed by a soft whoosh. Two torches that hung on opposite walls had lit by themselves, filling the office with a dim, warm light.<br/><br/>Breya blinked, adjusting to the new light. She was now able to see around her, but cast shadows threatened to swallow the room in darkness once again. <br/><br/>In front of her was a red velvet chair with gold clawed feet. She took her seat and looked up.<br/><br/>Argus Black was an imposing man, still half swallowed by darkness. He was wearing a black suit with a red tie, and was at least 3 feet taller than Breya, and twice as wide. He sat opposite her, behind a solid onyx desk whose legs were carved with what Breya could only assume were cyrillic runes. Her head was only barely raised over the smooth black surface, making her feel even smaller than usual.<br/><br/>There was a silence. A long one. Breya felt the cold beginning to eat away at her heart like uncured frostbite. She found herself unable to look up past Argus Black's collarbone, afraid that his face was twisted or deformed, or that if she looked him in the eyes she would turn to stone. <br/><br/>Finally, Breya summoned the courage to speak. Her voice started reedy, but soon gained its normal timbre. "Thank you. For the light, rather. And for this opportunity to interview for a position at your agency."<br/><br/>There was another, shorter silence. Then what sounded like a noise of approval.<br/><br/>"Few can gather the courage to speak in my presence, child. You've got mettle." Argus Black dipped a pen in ink and began scratching at the paper in front of him. <br/><br/>Breya let out a nervous chuckle, smoothing the skirt of her dress. <br/><br/>"So tell me," Argus Black leaned forward, hands laced to create a cradle for his chin, "my agency is one of the highest ranking establishments in all of the underworld, and yet you, with no practical haunting experience, have somehow been able to secure an interview. How is that?"<br/><br/>Breya's eyes widened slightly and her mind did what it thought was most helpful: it went completely, fully and impossibly blank. </span><br/><br/>The bedroom door opened and Francois entered the living room. He examined the stereo, and Breya could tell what he was thinking without even digging into his mind.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Didn't I, a big slob with a fondness for trash and the vermin it brings, leave my empty ramen cup on this perfectly clean and functional stereo last night?</span><br/><br/>Well, maybe she was paraphrasing a little.<br/><br/>Breya watched his confusion with glee, and didn't notice that the cat from the night before had dared to enter the apartment until she heard a hiss from behind her.<br/><br/>"Look, I haven't even done anything to you, and I probably won't. Just relax, okay?" Breya sighed gruffly. There was no reasoning with most animals. They decided that ghosts just didn't belong in the physical world, or feared that they or their owners would be attacked. Very discriminatory.<br/><br/>Beatrice, huh? Francois' sister. Breya had seen her name in the files. She was a musician of some sort. Maybe that's why she had got such a complicated reading off of Francois when he was listening to that classical piece.<br/><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Wait, he had a prophetic dream? About the noodles?</span>Beatrice had called it pathetic, but to a ghost, it was somewhat concerning. Breya pressed a crooked finger against her chin in thought. His spiritual energy was particularly high as well... She would have to see the dream before she made any stupid judgments.<br/><br/>Breya had done it in practice while in the underworld, and on the occasional living elder when her classes had shadowed soul-collection teams, but this was the real deal. She was about to enter another consciousness. Dig around, look for memories. She was excited, but also nervous. She didn't want to screw it up and send Francois off the deep end on her very first day.<br/><br/>She took a breath, steadied her hand, and touched her finger gently to his forehead.<br/><br/>The feeling was, in a word, euphoric. Francois' mind felt much more rich, much more<span style="font-style: italic">alive</span>than those aged folks. It buzzed with emotion, thoughts, values and beliefs. All concentrated together, woven and packed tightly in coils and loops and knots.<br/><br/>Thankfully Francois' dream was still in his recent conscious, not his subconscious, which was much more difficult to explore. Breya found the correct thread and gripped the end, merging his thoughts into hers.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">He was reaching, couldn't find it. In the wrong place. Where is it? Falling.</span><br/><br/>Breya released the thread and, like usual, her ears popped from the change in pressure as she exited Francois' body and back into a representation of her own. She dropped her hand and considered what she had seen.<br/><br/>"Must be a fluke," she thought out loud. She wasn't going to let any small signs of ESP scare her off. "He'll probably spike back down to average. They wouldn't have tasked me with a psychic on my first gig."<br/><br/>"Right?"