It sounds a bit like a script, like Noah's only saying thanks because he feels he ought to, not because he believes a word of what Freddie's said. And Freddie figures he can't fault him that. He can't say he understands Noah's situation at all having never been a ghost so who is he to pretend he can? It all comes off as trite at best and bullshit at worst.

In the end, Freddie's made entirely of bullshit anyhow, isn't he?

He frowns down at his own beer before taking another sip, licking a stray drop with a frown as Noah speaks again, asking a question this time in reference to something Freddie is positive he'd not said out loud.

"You did it again," he says, but he doesn't feel too upset if he's honest. It's disconcerting that Noah can know so much about him without Freddie ever saying a word, but it's oddly kind of nice as well. He doesn't have to make the effort to put into words all the shit that's in his head. It's just there. Ugly as it all is.

Pulling in a slow breath, Freddie considers the question and then tips his head back to stare up at the ceiling. Noah can read his mind, but it's still easier if Freddie doesn't have to look him in the eye at the same time. "Fuck," he breathes eventually, and nods. "Think it'd just be nice, you know? And it's not like I've not had it before. Just never lasts." He closes his eyes. "There's always someone better."