Jack's slip of the tongue, combined with losing his ash tray and being one upped by Bariel, were all visible hardships on Graham's face. The creased forehead, the flared nose, the gently twitching eyelid, all were signs of one his not irregular tantrums. They tended to involve shouting, drinking, swearing and cursing, which are not the same things, despite what you might think. [i]Cursing[/i] is when you call the names of dusty gods and forgotten demons to bring down unthinkable revenge on those who have slighted you, though the effect is generally less impressive than that. [i]Swearing[/i] is when you 'fuck' after dropping a tea cup. When the two come together under the learned tongue of Mr Greye, the ensuing tirade is more than most people (and most angels, vampires and fae) can stand to listen to.

Of the Underwood society, Dee was the only one who seemed able to diffuse these events properly, generally with a well timed compliment or surprise bottle of wine. Bariel and Jack generally just put on headphones or left the room, though the latter was preferable; some of Graham's obscenities would move around after he was done, humming like big ugly insects and bumping off the walls. Afterwards, even Graham tended to see how undignified such episodes were and would retreat to the attic to 'go and look for a particular book' for an hour or so. When he eventually returned, there'd normally be a halfhearted, mostly mumbled apology and normal service would resume.

But being asked for his expertise was almost always a reliable balm for the wounds inflicted upon Graham by the world. Nothing set him back into his normal state of grumpiness (as opposed to self pitying anger) quite like being reminded that he was the only one with a real [i]understanding[/i] of the world of the supernatural. The others might be living breathing parts of it but it was clear that were no more informed about their realm than most humans were about the mysteries of the appendix or the clavicle.

Graham's voice and manner took on that of the professor about to give a lesson to the wayward dullard he called a student. "There are, of course, many ways to force a ghost to be visible Jack. Some are quite dramatic, similar to the pop culture concept of an exorcism, but many are more straightforward. For example, let's see if this ghost is or was particularly religious."

With a flourish, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a strange device that looked something like a swiss army knife. After fiddling for a moment, Graham snapped out a small metal cross and waved it vaguely while shouting "reveal yourself!" in what sounded like an impression of Bariel's deep tones.

Nothing happened, apart from a lamp going over Graham's head and shattering on the wall.

"Well, yes, to be expected. Alright, let's try something with a little more kick, shall we." Graham muttered as he put away the multi-faith-tool and bent down. From one of the kitchen cupboards, he retrieved a cylinder of salt, still marked with 50p off sticker from ASDA. His other hand rummaged in his jacket for a moment before coming out with a dried sprig of something that had apparently been loose in one of his pockets. He blew off some of the fluff and lint, crushed it between his fingers and sprinkled the powder into the salt. Finally, he poured most of the salt into the palm of his hand.

All eyes were upon him now and even the ghost seemed to have stopped throwing things to watch. Gently, Graham started to blow the slat-and-herbs mixture off of his palm and across the caravan, moving slowly from one end of the place to the other. It had as much effect as his previous efforts until he reached the coffee table and tired looking sofa. Some of the grains seemed to stick to something in the air, causing Graham to give a "Ha!" of victory and throw the rest of the handful at the shape. At first it seemed like all he'd achieved was to make the ghost a bit messy but soon the shape behind the salt grains started to reverse fade, gradually becoming visible.

Graham's face could hardly have been more smug as he turned to his colleagues. "Hemlock and salt, a tried and tested method. It'll be visible for at least the next hour." With a gesture, he stepped aside and waved Jack towards the appearing figure, currently mostly a salty tracky suit top.

"I've done my bit, [i]fanglord[/i], I think it's your turn."