Cora waves the mirror at him again, but he breaks character and swats it away. “That won’t work—my reflection isn’t ugly,” he says. Cora smirks and jabs him in the stomach with the end of the broom. “Ow! Okay, fuck, don’t actually gut me,” he says. “Do you want me to joke around or not?” Cora says. “Make up your mind.” “I just don’t want the cream bun to come back up,” he says. “Okay, so I’ll avoid your stomach,” Cora says, jamming the end of the broom into his cheek. “Ow, Jesus, I’d like to keep my teeth too!” he says, laughing and smacking the broom away. “A real ghost wouldn’t complain this
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