Price sat in his office smoking a cigar while he went over the last mission’s reports.

“Open a window, Captain, you’re gonna set off the fire alarms.” You said, sitting on the side of his desk.

He looked up at you with a sad smile. You were dead, killed on a mission months ago, due to a bad call from Price. You seemed to be haunting him—following him around not matter where he went.

“Sorry, love.” He replied as he stood up to open the window.