A ski hill definitely sounded way better than a market of things people wouldn't actually buy. Not that he planned on going skiing any time soon. He couldn't exactly see his feet, after all.
"Oh no, not new. I just like to keep you myself," he replied, a sentiment he had only picked up when he became a spirit. A ghost of himself, in more ways than one. "Wow, quite the entrepreneur. I'll keep you in mind if the need ever rises. I'm Pat, bartender extraordinaire."
"Ooh... Bartender? Where?" Makena asked, leaning in a bit at the prospect of alcohol. "I'm always looking for new places to try out," she grinned and having now noticed Pat's distinct lack of feet, it was safe to assume that she was speaking to a spirit. And a nice one at that, at least for now. One never knew with spirits.
"So, uh, how long ago did you pass?" the witch asked. One never knew how a spirit would take that question being asked of them either.

















