“Its funny, how you speak of everyone's death so openly Cindy” Sergi said, his voice disembodied as a grey mist slowly started to spin around a chair that sat in the corner. “With out consulting me, your mortality” Sergi sighed, as he fully phased in, sitting in a reclining position. He sniffed abit, the faint odor of bad cigarettes lingered in the air “Do I smell Torrid? Was he here?” He asked, “Oh well, you know Cindy," He said, redirecting his attention to her “you are terribly difficult to keep up with.”