[hider=Guided Meditation][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UanV1ifs6tk[/youtube][/hider]

“Did you find them yet?” 

[I]”Kid, I'm a ghost not a metal detector. If you hadn't lost the damned things in the first place we wouldn't be in this mess, ‘Detective’.”[/i]

“I thought I’d left them on the desk this morning.”

[i]”Anyway, what happened to that trademark Nathan Bishop sixth sense you usually have going on when you’re working?”[/i]

“Oh come on, don’t start on th-”

Nate halted himself mid-sentence when he noticed the keys resting in one of the open drawers of his frayed wooden desk. He blinked for a moment to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things again - he’d already checked there earlier - and there they were. Glancing over to Gabe, who seemed to have something on his face, he realised he’d been had.

“You moved them.”

[i]”Well, that depends Mr. PI,”[/i] A familiar shit-eating grin popped up, [i]”Am I under oath?”[/i]

“Ha-ha.” Nate folded his arms, grabbing the keys off the desk and popping open the filing cabinet adjacent to it. Another sheet of finished casework was still left in his electric typewriter, so he pulled it out and quickly dropped it in a folder before locking up the cabinet once more.

[i]”What?”[/i] Gabe outstretched his arms, playing innocent. [i]”Must be a ghost that did it, I’m sure.”[/i] The way he said it laid it on thick.

Nate smirked, “Yeah, maybe I ought to go around knocking over a certain ghost’s gravestone in town - walk over a burial plot or two.”

The dead man shrugged. [i]”Ah, c’mon. I needed an excuse to pick something up - being dead can drive ya’ a little stir-crazy sometimes.”[/i]

“Yeah, I’m starting to feel that second-hand..” Nate shot back, before chuckling and pulling up a seat. Inside the same drawer where his partner had stuck the keys was a bottle of tequila that he’d yet to touch. Deciding now was as good a time as ever, he cracked it open and grabbed two glasses from the same drawer. Pouring just one glass, he pushed the empty one towards Gabe with a smug look on his own face. “Thirsty?”

[I]”Hah, fuck you too.”[/i] The late detective saw the funny side in that one. [i]”Last time I tried that was a waste of good scotch.”[/i]

Nate shrugged, before wrapping his fingers around the glass. “In that case, don’t mind if I do.” He offered a toast to the spirit and raised the glass to his late partner, before downing it in one go. A couple moments later, Gabe rubbed a hand across his etheral jawline and noted, [i]"Would've sworn I could taste that."[/i]

Nate arched an eyebrow quizzically, "Wait, really? What do you think?"

[i]"Good taste."[/i] Gabe opined, like a connoisseur tasting a fine wine. 

"I wasn't talking about the taste, I meant.. ah, screw it. Nevermind." Shrugging, Nate decided it wasn't worth asking and grabbed another sheet of paper from the available tray and stuck it on the typewriter, opting instead to ebb the next hour by to the sound of the soothing clicks of the machine.