He nods, barely even acknowledging this shift of the ghost's physical form (can ghosts have physical forms?) from female to male. It doesn't matter, and he's honestly gotten a little used to the rotating kaleidoscope of companions at his side tonight.

And for all that time marches on, this is a moment in the present.

So he spends it watching and listening; to the conversations being had between his sister and her husband, between his mother and her grandchild. He focuses on the glow of the fire in the hearth, and of the smells in the air - there is cedar and pine and hot coffee.

And the familiar, comforting warmth of being home...



But eventually, he turns - because he knows that the moment must pass, even if he'd rather it not - and nods at the ghost.

"We can head out," Doc says, motioning for the front door, taking care to keep his steps quiet against the hardwood floorboards.