eavesdrop
'Wouldn't be the first time.'
John cut a look at Chas beside him, sharp, a bit harsh, though he supposed he couldn't blame him. Sometimes he feared that all his talk of magic and the supernatural had desensitized the man.
"This one's...new," John replied with a shake of the head. "Dunno her, never seen her b'fore. She looks...lost." Bloody stupid thing to say, that. The city was teeming with ghosts since the Battle of London, but somehow this lone nun seemed different. "Sister ain't s'pposed to be here, but I don't think she's looking for salvation." He took a long drag off his cigarette before musing thoughtfully. "Maybe she doesn't know she's dead yet. Could be drivn' herself round the bend trying to communicate and interact with...anything and anyone."
He didn't bother telling Chas about the dreams of blood, war, and that same women, still in a habit but without a veil or wimple. Her hair was wild as her eyes, red as rubies, blazing bright as the fires of Hell he knew all too well.
