Swinging the door shut, Freddie heads for the kitchen, pulling two stemmed glasses from a top shelf in his cupboard and grabbing an opened bottle of wine from his fridge. It's not an expensive bottle, none of the ones he ever buys are, and he pulls off the reusable cork before he starts pouring.

When he glances back, Noah's lingering near the couch, awkwardly standing there like he doesn't know if he should stay or not. Freddie hands off one of the glasses with a furrowed brow, listening when Noah starts speaking again.

It's not what he's expecting to hear and he's not entirely sure how to interpret it as he holds his wine close. "Why the change of heart?" he asks because he's still not sure how he feels about the ghost thing. It's all fucked up in his head because Noah looks just as he did before Freddie knew the truth. He sounds the same. Probably feels the same, though he obviously hasn't tested that theory. And in this world where there are witches and wizards and fucking superheroes, what does it matter if Noah's a ghost?

But what does that make Freddie then if he's okay with fucking a guy who's technically dead?