Carolyn didn't know which Captain Gregg was more titillating. The man of action, whom singlehandedly defeated a public servant then destroyed an entire bulldozer? Or, the man of towering intellect, who 'stood for the right' over 100 years ago and again, for her, today? She shivered even as his voice emanated publicly from Claymore's puerile lips. The confusion of living with, and loving a ghost. Constantly traversing the permeable boundary between the dream world and their waking hours.
She tossed the remnants of her whiskey into the fire, placed the glass on her desk and floated, seemingly, over to the bed. Climbing aboard, she tossed the covers aside, and waited for the tide of sleep to carry them both out to sea.