Quite a decent amount of time had passed since Eric last saw his specter friend. Though nothing had changed from the perspective of outside, prying eyes, Eric’s heart had grown weary. The burden of killing for the sake of another was taking its toll on him. He considered it a hefty responsibility – the responsibility of keeping Alan alive. 

“Been keepin’ busy,” he said almost cheerfully, in stark contrast to his truest feelings. “My work’s ne’er done.” For just a moment, he considered Thomas’ transparent body, the way that it bent in the slightest change of light. There was some bright, ethereal quality to his mere presence that only the purest, most innocent souls could carry. His hand itched for his scythe. “An’ I imagine yer no’ up tae much these days, wha’ wi’ th’ state yer in an’ all.”