That was what he had meant about not currently being eloquent enough. Dale frowned a bit, completely missed the suggestive statement and stammered out something resembling an apology. "Of course. I meant to the spirits. Obviously. I'm sure Scotland has telegraphs and email and cell phones and all the other wonderful little electronic gadgets out there. I was just thinking castles, moors, graveyards. Places that might not have wi-fi or computers or," he trailed off because this probably wasn't helping.
Then he blinked because his mind, currently processing entirely too much, reminded him of a word it thought he had heard. "Did you say kilt?" It wasn't the sort of question one should be asking a nurse at an emergency room reception desk.
One of the spirits hanging around, a portly man with an easy smile, had come to pester him while he attempted to fill out the forms. It wasn't that Dale didn't want to listen to him. In fact, he very much wanted to sit down and talk to the man about his grandchildren as long as he needed, but he was rather distracted at the moment.
"Please wait for me," he whispered, his eyes on the forms. "I'll come back. Then we can talk. As long as you want."
The spirit seemed to accept this because he nodded. Dale bumped his shoulder into him companionably and then rose, crossed back to the reception desk, smiled at the girl who had arrived and greeted her with a, "Hello," before returning his attention to Ian. "That should be everything. I think."