Private eye DB has a pretty unusual partner. Jesse’s been in his office a lot longer than he has, hanging around like ghosts kinda have to. They do pretty well together, playing chess and solving cases, which Jesse figures is better than an eternity popping in and out of walls.
The new case they take seems pretty average, but it turns out to be more than they bargain for. DB and Jesse end up embroiled in a murder investigation, one that might leave an innocent man in jail if they don’t get it solved. They have a lot more to learn about each other, too, but can a man and a ghost find any common ground to touch on?
DB turned on his computer and sat, flipping through the appointment book as he tugged a Camel out of his shirt pocket.
"You're late," a voice behind him said. "And you shouldn't smoke in the office."
He tried very hard not to jump at the voice. "What? No good morning? No how are you today?" He lit up, taking a long drag. Better than fucking coffee, that was. "Besides, it's my office."
"So you say." There was a long pause and the voice turned a little whiney. "Seriously, don't do that. It's rude."
Rude. Right. DB rolled his eyes and sat back. He took another drag and started to blow smoke rings.
"Show off." There was a long-suffering sigh and then, "Good morning. How are you today? Where the hell is Ginny? Why isn't there any coffee? Are we going to work today?"
God, he hated it when Jesse only half followed along. "I have a headache. Ginny doesn't work here anymore, which is why there's no coffee -- you don't drink coffee anyway so why are you complaining? We sure as hell had better be working today or we won't have an office anymore, either. Why the hell am I saying we? I. I better be working or I won't have an office. And stop hovering over my shoulder – you know I hate that!"
"And I hate you flaunting your lovely nicotine at me! Can't smoke, either." Jesse came out from behind him and moved to the client chair, sitting down with the same careful precision he always used when he was acting normal. He looked pretty solid today, too, instead of half-there. "I liked the smell of Ginny's coffee, is all," he said, eyeing the latest smoke ring as it floated above his head.
"I'm not flaunting, I'm smoking. There's a difference." Okay, so maybe the smoke rings had been showing off. But it just wasn't right for a ghost to nag you over your bad habits.