Gabriel went to the counter curiously. "Are you going to tell Jones you can see me?"
Kant scoffed. "Hell no. They already think I've lost my marbles. What do you think will happen if I tell Jones I'm haunted by a ghost?"
He opened the cabinet, retrieving a half-empty bag of coffee grounds. The rich, earthy aroma filled the air as he poured the grounds into the machine's filter.
Gabriel leaned against the counter, staring at Kant with slight interest. "What did you do to make them think you're crazy anyway?"
Kant closed the cabinet, pausing for a moment. Then he filled the reservoir with water from the sink, ignoring the ghost's eyes on him.
Gabriel shifted on his feet. "You don't like talking about yourself, do you?"
With a click, Kant closed the reservoir lid and stared at the buttons. "Do you like talking about how you were murdered?" he quipped.
The ghost rubbed his chin. "I guess the sight of myself bleeding out ungracefully in a dirty alley wasn't the greatest, but I already complained about it enough, so I'm over it." He waited, clearly waiting for Kant to share.
"It's nothing interesting," Kant said, inexpressively. "I had a partner, Luke. We went after a bad guy, fell into a trap."
Gabriel took a seat by the table, preparing to listen to the story. "Sounds like there's more to it."
Kant cast a doubtful sideward glance at him. "Why do you want to know?"
Gabriel rested his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his hands. "You heard about my life. Now I want to hear about yours."
Kant busied himself with the coffee machine, his fingers fidgeting with the buttons as he tried to keep his expression neutral.
"Long story short, the bad guys wanted to know who sent us. Luke couldn't take the torture and spilled information on our locations and safety measures. In the end, he died. I escaped alone. By the time I got back, our organization was ruined."
Gabriel nodded slowly, chewing over the story. "And then what?"
Kant pressed the start button on the coffee machine. "Jones, Hunter, and I established Jolly Wings, that works as a chicken shop by day and a killing business by night."
"I see..." Gabriel murmured, his eyes shifting around as he rubbed his chin in thought. "But what made them think you're out of your mind?"
"I was paranoid for a good while after it all went down," Kant gave an honest answer. "Over-attentive to sounds and movements. Might have overreacted once or twice, which was enough to make them think I'm going off the rails."
The machine stopped whirring with a beep. Kant turned to pour the brewed coffee into two mugs before setting them on the table. "Anyway, that's the story."
Kant had left out certain details of the story, like how the 'bad guy' they went after was the CFO of Everett Holdings.
Judging from the way Gabriel carried himself, Kant assumed he had no clue about the underground business.
"Were you very close with Luke?" Gabriel inquired, sliding one of the cups over to his side.
Kant sat down on the other side of the table. "Friends since high school."
Gabriel nodded, sipping the coffee. The hot liquid left a bitter aftertaste. "It must have hurt," he mused, watching as Kant brought his own cup to his lips, "losing a friend like that."
Kant shrugged with a sardonic smirk. "Back then, I was more pissed than hurt. I cursed at him plenty after he died. But now that I see your soul's still lingering around, I really hope he didn't hear all that."
Gabriel tried to lighten the atmosphere a little, "I'm sure he was too busy being dead to listen to you."
"Unlike someone."
The box of fried chicken was still sitting on the table, seemingly untouched despite the ghost's previous feast. Kant contemplatively picked one of the cold pieces, but as soon as he bit into it, he changed his mind and threw it back into the box.
"You really ate the soul out of this," Kant muttered, wiping his mouth. The meat tasted like dust and ashes, not a single hint of the savory flavor.
Gabriel watched his dissatisfied expression and laughed. He leaned over the table, digging through the box, "Wait, there was supposed to be one or two pieces I didn't touch."
The sight of Gabriel rummaging through the box like a raccoon was too amusing to hang onto the heavy topics. That was enough depressing talks for at least the next week.
"Aha! Found it," Gabriel triumphantly brought up a large piece of chicken, hanging it over to Kant.
"Thanks."
To Kant's relief, despite its coldness, this piece still had the consistency and flavor of a chicken.
He washed it down with a swig of coffee and got up from the table. "You ready? Let's go."
"Wait, we're not walking again, are we? It's going to take way too long. I don't want to go all that way by foot."
The ghost's prayers (complaints) were heard. Kant caved and ended up driving to Jolly Wings by car.
It was around eight in the morning when they pulled up to the building. Jones was already moving inside, lazily lifting the chairs off the tables and yawning.
Kant walked up to the door and knocked on the glass by the "closed" sign. Jones glanced up, flashed a grin, then came to unlock the door.
"Here so soon? Is your meticulous research phase over? Accepting deals without much thought now?"
Kant came in, recalling the unopened envelope waiting for him on the corner of the kitchen table. It had slipped his mind after the whole ordeal with Gabriel's body.
"It's not about that."
Jones paused, tilting his head with a sly grin. "What is it, then? Missed me?"
Kant shook his head, coughing out a "No."
"Cold." Jones chuckled, moving to wipe down the table of the nearest booth.
"It's dusty here," Kant muttered as he lifted a chair off a table and took a seat.
Jones scoffed. "If you want, I can give you a bucket and a broom. You're more than welcome to scrub this place until it sparkles. Less work for me."
"No, thanks."
The ghost circled Kant impatiently. "Ask about the wishes already. Why are you beating around the bush?"
Kant leaned back in his seat and cleared his throat. "Have you made any wishes by accident, and they came true?"
Jones paused in his cleaning, looking at Kant with a smirk. "Oho! Since when have you paid attention to superstitions?"
"Just heard someone mention it," Kant said, feigning indifference.
"Just heard it, huh?" Jones resumed wiping the table, a playful grin on his face. "Why are you asking? Do you have a wish?"
"Can't I be curious?" Kant retorted.
"Not with that attitude," Jones quipped.
Kant crossed his arms over his chest. "I thought you liked the sound of your own voice."
Jones chuckled, slinging the cleaning cloth over his shoulder. "Why, yes, I do," he said in a sing-song voice. "Too bad you like patronizing me."