"Great-grandad, actually," Freddie amends after a moment's further thought. "He's from the 30s or 40s, something like that."

Obviously, the strange time shit means he doesn't look a day over thirty-five, but it's still all a bit weird. About as weird as fucking a ghost boy who looks and feels just like any other ordinary boy. Just... one who can teleport and read minds. And doesn't need to breathe or sleep or eat.

He cocks his head then, lips curving into a faint grin. "Does that make him the weird one or me?"