Spirit walked away from her. Going towards his crystal chamber. His peaceful zone. The spirits never judged him. The skeletons and zombies never hated him. Even the occasional vampire he had to play nice with on occasion...never treated him horribly. The banshees, the wraiths, the poltergeists...none of them...treated him like a freak. They respected him. The spirits wouldn't tattle her thoughts all the time. Only IF she thought such a negative thought towards him that they didn't like. They protected the Ghost Whisperer. Their Necromancer was their friend and their family...he was their child in a strange sort of way. Her thinking ill of him was really the only reason they told on her.<br/><br/>He looks at her. "I wasn't." He says quite bluntly. He shivered as he felt cold dead fingers running up his spine. "Not now Drew." he mutters in what would sound liking hissing whispers. The ghost went away to play elsewhere for now. He looks at her. "You will be scared off. They always are. the last one said the same thing. You can see just how well that worked out." he says softly. Distantly but clearly sadly. He runs a hand through those silken strands of his. "Good. Then you will get along with those that I allow residence here. I will not be kicking the ghosts out just because a fleshie is now living here with them and I." He says. His words gentle but serious. No emotion whatsoever.<br/><br/>He watched her touring the room. "If you say so. Joking or not...it has no effect on me. I don't remember if I ever knew emotions. Wasn't raised like most folks were." he says simply and to a point it was a bit chilling. He had no reaction to her joke at all. Not even a flickering or twitching of the lips. If he had someone to fall for him...they would just leave him. The one time he had tried to feel...it had happened. Damaged his ego a lot. Not that he had one but being called freak as the politest term said was not something he wished to relive.<br/><br/>He was sad inside but he knew if he had somone, even if he couldn't share feelings the same as they could, he would show that woman just how special she was to him. Figurative thinking and wishful hopings. That was all that was. It would never happen. Women wanted someone who could truly feel. He dealt with the dead...he never learned to feel. The dead literally raised him because the living abandoned him. Who was he to think such a thing was ever going to change. His face while straight just hid the sorrow and internal pain. He turned away from her. Sitting inside the chamber. Closing his eyes and begins to levitate. Meditating as will-o-wisps begin to fly around under him. Aiding his levitation. He had reach one of the highest levels of enlightenment. Even at a young age he had. He was an outcast. He was always going to be the outcast. A few moments later he stood and avoided looking around. His body training in physical training. Yoga mixed with martial arts.