They were very clearly delighted by the thought of artistic ghosts. It was hard to say exactly how much magic existed, or didn't exist, in Willie's world, but perhaps that was the thing that made the real difference. There was such variance and potential, such a wide away of types and talents and gifts, in the world that J'mon came from. Ghosts were simply a fragment of the people they had been. The true soul had passed on. All that was left was a thread of memory and the energy that circulated around it. What Willie spoke of sounded more like those souls that continued on to be with their gods. The best and purest version of a person.
"I speak from experience," they said, with a playful tilt of their head, "but sometimes when you are stuck in a place for a little too long, you begin to do interesting things to amuse yourself. I suspect the ghosts have just been here too long and need the entertainment. They do not seem outright malicious. Not usually." They would probably come to regret that statement. But it seemed more like the living here - and some of the non-living - just couldn't understand the needs and desires of the spirits that occupied the space. If they could understand, perhaps they could help with that. But it wasn't within J'mon's realm of expertise.
They stepped a little closer to Willie, then, curiously reaching out to settle a hand on his arm just to see if he was corporeal. J'mon had a rather poor sense of personal space in the first place and the compulsion to indulge in their curiosity rarely went unanswered.