"Okay," he says in concession, spreading in palms. "Then how about this: a truth for a truth. I'd ask what you want, but we both know it's either me leaving, me dying, me leaving your lot alone, ect, ect, ect--various embellished and gory details. But. What do you want to know? Not that we can be sure either of us are telling the truth."

He pulls away from the bartop, arms folding, brows raised. "Otherwise I'll just pollute your... haunted house... with my presence for a long, long while."