It was easy to say that you were still shaken from the night before. As soon as you returned home from that night, you couldn't get a wink of sleep. You placed your now damaged phone on your desk, returning to work the next day. Pulling a large, leather bound book from one of the shelves, you decided that you wanted to keep yourself as distracted as possible. You opened to your bookmarked place in the census, and began to type each word down into your laptop.
"Good morning, (Y/N)," Mr. Scarlett opened the door. You jump nearly out of your chair. He chuckled sheepishly. "Whoa. Didn't mean to startle you."
You gave a lighthearted laugh at your own foolishness, trying to hide your actual genuine fear of the greeting.
"Good morning, Mr. Scarlett," you replied, still smiling.
"How late did you stay up last night?" he asked, noting your tired appearance and jumpiness.
"Well, I went home a little while after you left. Not long. Maybe an hour or so," you explained, leaving out the ghostly