[Richie takes on airs himself, eyes narrowed in suspicion and adopting a voice that might strike as a ghost of the past in itself. If Prior ever paid attention to the heyday of anthology television, that is.]

A land of instant replay, lost memories on parade. Secrets exposed and mysteries unsolved. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call...the Twilight Zone.

[Then he too slides out of the act, and privately decides he rather likes this spindly fellow. He's thoughtful and takes a joke, seems to know his way around a dictionary. Artistic type, that's a bonus always.]

I'd say you've got a fair case for revenge haunting, certainly. We don't have a spiritual soothesayer among all these firebreathing warlocks and secret agents, do we? I've learned to expect the unexpected but never the useful.