There was no time like the present. And J'mon genuinely wasn't doing anything important here. Everyone needed something to fill the time with, though, to keep them from growing complacent between the bursts of chaos. They were all too aware that their documentation of their time here wouldn't matter when they returned home, but that didn't keep them from doing it. It had long been a habit to dutifully write down the most interesting moments of their life. When you lived for thousands of years it was easy to forget things.
"What are ghosts like in your world?" J'mon asked, pausing for a second to let Willie catch up with them. While they had a sense of other to them, in so many ways, they had never exalted themself above anyone else. Too many leaders did that and then immediately fell out of touch with the people they led. J'mon wouldn't have ruled for five hundred years if they had ever made that mistake.
The soft sound of metal clinking against metal sounded as they walked, along with the gentle fall of their bare feet. "I cannot say that ghosts are really the best sort, where I am from," they said. "They are usually more of a problem than anything else. It is illuminating to see, here, and elsewhere, it is quite a different story. I enjoy it." Anything to expand their perspective on the world - worlds - was a welcome gift, and as far as ghosts went they had never known any to be as friendly or as talkative as Willie was. That, in itself, was a joy to find.