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Teeth
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"You eat differently when you're Phantom," observed Sam.
Danny paused to consider that, lowering the half-eaten cherry from his blue-tinted lips. "Yeah," he said. "Probably." He shrugged, and took another delicate bite out of the cherry.
"What do you mean?" mumbled Tucker from around his absolutely massive bite of sandwich.
The three of them were sitting in the Specter Speeder, taking a break from exploring the Ghost Zone to eat lunch. It had been Sam's turn to pack the lunch, and she had filled up the cooler with a variety of vegetarian options, with an emphasis of fresh fruit.
Tucker had, of course, supplemented this with a meat-packed sandwich. Well, as long as Sam didn't have to deal with it, she didn't really care. Not anymore. That didn't mean that Sam wouldn't argue about it, however.
"When he's Fenton," started Sam, "he eats a lot like you. No offense, Danny."
"None taken."
"Hey," complained Tucker, with difficulty. Just about the entire sandwich was inside his mouth now.
"But when you're Phantom," continued Sam, "you're neater. You take smaller bites. You're a little slower. You eat as much, though."
"That makes sense," said Danny. "I mean, my teeth are different. You guys know that."
"Sure," said Tucker, having forced down the remainder of his sandwich. "But are they that different?"
Danny blinked slowly, then smiled, and opened his mouth wide. Impossibly wide. Wide enough that his teeth were very nearly all on the same, vertical, plane.
"Dude, that's creepy."
"Eh," said Danny.
It was creepy, even by Sam's standards, but it was impossible to look away from.
Danny's ghost form looked remarkably human from the outside, but even looking this far in underscored that it was not. Danny's lips, his gums, and the tip of his tongue were dull, muted pink, but after a centimeter or two, that color became threaded through with purples. By his throat, his mouth was swirls of pastel blues and faint teals.
That didn't touch on his teeth.
"Jeez," said Sam, "how many teeth do you even have?"
"Erhy-hoo."
"No you don't."
"You can understand what he said?" asked Tucker.
"I hoo. Eheyoh ooe."
"You do not have thirty-two teeth," said Sam, counting. "That number includes wisdom teeth, which you don't get until you're older." His canines, she noticed, while not being outright vampire fangs like Vlad's, were very sharp, as were his bicuspids. They were all very white, and very straight. "Or- heck. You do. How do you have that many?"
Danny closed his mouth with a snap. "My wisdom teeth came in fast," he said, and shrugged. "It apparently runs in the family. Jazz had to have her wisdom teeth out when she was fifteen."
"So it isn't even a ghost thing," said Tucker.
Danny shrugged again. "Them being sharp is," he said. "Not the wisdom teeth. The other ones. The wisdom teeth being sharp would be awful. I bite my cheek enough as it is."
"I still don't think they're that different," said Tucker.
"Trust me, it feels a lot different when it's in your mouth. What happened to the rest of the cherries?"
"You ate them," said Sam.
"Oh," said Danny, looking crushed.
Sam couldn't suppress a snicker. After a requisite glare, Danny gave Sam a sheepish smile, revealing a couple of those sharp, ghostly teeth.
"Okay, I'm being silly. Not as silly as Tucker, though."
"Hey!"