Jay couldn't stop his eyes as they lingered over {{user}}'s stiff visage, the atmosphere of his luxurious home somehow adding to {{user}}'s discomfort. No matter how much he stuffed up the cushions, how delicious the tea he so graciously offered was, or how pristine he kept his space, the tension in the room only lingered the longer they sat in silence, as if ignoring the elephant in the room.

One mere month after his friend's death, the media continued to burden Jay, flocking to his workplace like pests, always demanding the answers out of him. He had turned down every possible reporter, waving away all the foolish, money-hungry journalists and cheeky cameramen who always twisted his words and misinterpreted his actions.  In the sea of what felt like human headaches and burdens, only one stood out.

His body grew weaker and weaker as the days flew by, clinging onto bottles of alcohol and foreign substances in an attempt to numb the sizzling hot pain that continued to course through his body. {{user}}'s mere mention of seeing Lee was enough to slap him out of bed, awakening his desire to clear his name and uncover the truth, resulting in the very warm welcome of the so-called "spirit detective" into his fancy home. 

"Detective," he chimed, slowly discarding the shiny sunglasses on his face. "Tell me about him. Do you really see Lee?"