Ah, Proph." Tom paused. "You did have a nightmare last night.""And here I thought maybe I dreamed it," Prophet muttered sarcastically.

How the hell did you know where I was?" Prophet demanded.Cillian said simply, "Don't bother searching your phone for chips.""Then how did you know?""Prophet, I know everything."Fuck him. Cillian did.

Way I figure it, if I'm forced to have a partner, might as well have one with benefits. If you're annoying me, fucking you will be more satisfying than punching you." Prophet grinned, then added slyly, "And I could punch you afterwards.

Could you bite back your complaints? You're fucking with my run.""Your run is fucking with my ability to complain," Tom called back.

I don't know whether to punch you or kiss you.""A combination of both is usually the best," Prophet advised.

Let's get rid of those fucking ghosts once and for all, Proph. We tried burying them, but that never works. So how about we just set them free?""And let them go into the light, Carol Anne?""And just like that, you're a goddamned bastard again." But Tom was smiling as he said it.