Fisher listened to James quietly and patiently, as he did with anyone who spilled their guts to him. His true gift (aside from being a medium) was being a great listener, a good ear that didn't judge. He felt he'd done enough retarded things in his life so he had no right to judge anyone else. Ever.
"Oh, no," he said quietly, once James had finished. "That's really too bad." He remembered Sloane following him around on that day when he first saw her. He remembered her tears and how she'd been so sure that if she could just get to her son, everything would be okay. And how wrong she'd been. "That's a lousy thing to do to a son. No offense, but your mom is kind of a twat," he said, hoping his words might both offer comfort and lighten the conversation. "I know she's your mom, and I'm not allowed to say stuff like that about her, but... seriously. Who chooses a guy- even a spouse- over your own kid?" It was super lame and the next time he saw Sloane, well he'd just tell her to fuck right off!
"So okay, new topic, then, since this one will only lead to quiet conversation, possibly more drinking and, with enough combination of the two, me bawling like a little girl." He was serious, too. One thing Fisher did not like to do was let people cry alone. And if the situation was sad enough, he'd just start the party on his own.
"So.... James...." he began, not sure what the question was going to be until he asked it, "what is the weirdest, sickest or most illegal thing you've ever done?"