Drakken sat at his breakfast table, fist with a tuff full of hair in his palm, the other holding a ceramic mug as his eyes remained transfixed on the scattered schematics in front of him. Slowly, to his side, a door creaked, uttering a groan in the silent room. Drakken turned towards the port, that led to his unfinished basement as a wave of air escaped, followed by nothing. Or, what most would consider 'nothing'.
"You still mad at me?"
To his side, a shortened pencil levitated—its led pressed upon the lines of a notebook, just enough for the substance to leave trails along the paper.
Nah.
He smiled. Good.
"Would you like to take part in my latest scheme?"
Though he did not have the faintest clue as to what she looked like, he imagined the entity that stood behind him encapsulating his shoulders in her translucent embrace, as if to say yes, while peering over his shoulder as the clutter of schematics that littered the table.
Leave it to Dr. Drakken to bring a ghost back to his lair. At least she was a friendly ghost.
Most of the time.