[He's quiet for a second, remembering how things had been when he left -- Zeke screaming bloody murder down the barrel of a gun, the rat-tat-tat of a dozen assault rifles shooting at once, his face throbbing from the hard impact of knuckles on skin. Yeah, it was probably a good thing he was taking a break from that.

With a low chuckle, he says:]

Yeah, I sure as shit hope so. Weirdly, ghosts feel like a more manageable problem. At least for now.