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Alexander couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"Oh really? Are we a banshee now? You're awfully cute for a cursed ghost, but perhaps you would make a nice lady..." he teased.
Apparently Ashley couldn't remember something as simple as French toast. Alexander found this fact particularly curious. Perhaps, he mused, certain memories had different densities, different weights based on their importance to the bearer. Ashley's memories of Alexander and his family where simply accessible to him because their heaviness had caused them to sink to the very bottom of his mind.
Although he had to also admit the memories he had bestowed upon Ashley weren't perfect, they where after all based on the memories of a younger Ashley, several years before his death, and thus things like his mothers funeral could never be accounted for. "Oh... You'll love it I promise. French toast is amazing if you don't burn it." he said brightly, trying to ignore his unspoken apprehensions.
He lifted a hand and lightly nudged the small of Ashley's back, urging him from the room. He might have wrapped his arm around the mans waist, but something stopped him. Ashley would have liked that once upon a time, but he also disliked it during certain moods, especially when he was being coerced into doing something.
Touching him as little as possible, he lead Ashley from the room and to the kitchen.
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