Thea drew back and sat the conventional way in the passenger seat, minus the seatbelt. She made the motions of smoothing her long skirt over her legs, an unnessary act given she had no mass. "If that frightens you," she said, her words soft and enunciated clearly, "You picked the wrong line of work." A slim cigareete holder was held delicately on the side of her mouth, and she removed it and blew a thin line of smoke. So much of what she did was pointless given her ghostly form, the smoking, the careful speech she was taught almost a century ago, and the smoking. But, she often said, little separated her from the evil creatures they fought and she wanted to make that line as thick as possible. Besides, she was a lady. 

 "This place reeks of goblins. Don't pack too close to the house. They're hiding." She leaned over and looked through the door of the car to see the ground below the moving vehicle. "The tracks are fresh, too." Her flowing hair was as unchanged by the wind outside as it was inside.