Catriona casually waved her hand to try and dismiss his worry about making her feel uncomfortable. She understood what it was like, though. Having an ability that constantly made you feel like you were crossing a line. Back in her younger years, especially when her ability first developed, she had trouble blocking the spirits out. A stroll through the cemetery, as teenagers oft do, would inevitably turn into a crowd of undead clamoring for her attention. If she decided to entertain any of them, she'd usually walk away knowing something she shouldn't. If someone came to her specifically to try and make contact with a lost loved one, it was almost guaranteed to get personal. Catriona had decided a long time ago not to let "uncomfortable" happen.
Catriona could see that Ben was visually distressed, but once he said those two words she understood completely. My son. Some people were very up front about their intentions when they came to her for such things. Usually these were the people doing it for fun or as a joke, like Catriona was some profit-seeking circus psychic. But every now and then she'd come across a grieving parent, child, spouse, friend...and there was always that same longing sadness in their voices. Perhaps the same sadness developed in her own voice when she spoke about her parents.
"It's not bad," Catriona started. "To want to talk to them again. And what I do...it can be hard for everyone involved. Sometimes it helps...sometimes it doesn't." If she was being honest, that was probably the biggest reason she shouldn't open that line of communication between someone living and someone dead. She'd seen people walk away from it worse off than before. Others handle it just fine. In the end, she supposed it came down to whether the individual was truly capable of letting go and moving on. A lot easier said than done.