I don't like this. I don't like this at all.
Cadell sat on the edge of his seat, tense as a bowstring and looking pale and drawn. Every time Mr Bronwich walked past, Cadell would fix him with a nasty glare. He didn't like this man, something just wasn't right about him. And the way he talked to them made the young welshman want to throw a pickaxe at his head. What was worse was that not a single ghost in the area would come near him. He could feel them there, whispering in the farthest corners, but they wouldn't come closer. They had never done this before, and Cadell knew it was a bad sign.
Muttering under his breath, he slipped up to the front of the plane and hissed in Dilya's ear:
"I don't trust this kook. Something's not right about him, the ghosts won't come anywhere near him. Something's wrong here Dilya, very wrong."
"I know that!" she snapped back at him, "But I'm trying to fly a helicopter right now. We'll sort this out once we're back on the ground, alright? Now go pester someone else!"
She's not happy, thought Cadell as he slunk back to his seat. Evidently he wasn't the only one who didn't like this situation. However, the sight of Nicola knocked almost all these thoughts out of his head. Air-sickness forgotten, Cadell scrambled over and knelt beside him.
"What the heck happened?" he asked Carmen, who seemed almost as peturbed as he was.
Oh gods. This is bad.