[ A hum to the observation of his name with a nod, no offence taken to the bluntness; he won't insist with the fruit either, lowering it back down. It can be offered again later, but one thing at a time. There's a much clearer picture he wants to see first, of the events that happened than just what he took from Gengar.

But then, the shade of a smile on his face decreases, eyes glancing down at his bottle before flicking back--and then squinting at the sudden thickness of the air surrounding them. He swallows, then raises a hand. ] It's alright. They're not here anymore.

[ He's plenty sure about that. At the same time, he doesn't know how much he wants to give away. Not with the words stuck on the roof of his mouth before he speaks them: ]

You hate phantoms. [ Stiff, uncomfortable; it's a question, even if it doesn't quite come off as one. It feels crummy (to say, to do), but- ] You saw it each other... and then the phantom put you to sleep. What happened before they put you to sleep?