"Uh? Hello? My rotten clam? I just told you since when. It's fucking haunted in here." He gestured toward a book on a glass coffee table in the living room in which they stood. It was a black book with the word 'SPOOK' written on it, with the tagline, Science tackles the afterlife. And ever the multi-tasker extraordinaire, extracted a piece of trident spearmint--well, two--and dropped them into the center of her hand.
"Maybe not haunted by ghosts, since I don't believe in all that, but lots of..." He waved his hand around as if he were King Henry the VII pleading for another heaping gallop of turkey leg. "Electromagnetic currents, surely. Possibly even low frequency sound waves. They can do all sorts of crazy things." Index pointed to his temple. "Make the mind all... askew." Yes, he realized by how she was staring up at him that he'd probably lost her somewhere around 'haunted'.
And thus, he moistened his lips. Pressing them together momentarily and coming to the understanding that he was alone in his passing obsession over the book he'd finished reading. Next up, was the one directly beside it entitled: 'The Dreaming Universe'. He'd be a walking fact book about that soon too, surely.
"I don't have to convince you of anything. You do what I say, or you don't get to pick anything out, and I come back with black paint to make your side a dungeon, and skulls. Lots of skulls, and big fake spiders. Hairy ones."