And you waited until it seemed like he wouldn’t say anything at all. But then he spoke.“What do you believe in?”You blinked, eyebrows raising. “Pardon?”“What do you believe in, Jake? Do you believe in a god? Multiple gods? Ghosts? Spirits? Karma? Chance? Fate?”“I...” You paused. You had been about to say you didn't rightly believe in anything. And you were going to accuse him of changing the subject, like he had a tendency to do. But you remembered your promise to Roxy. Think before you speak. Keep an open mind. This might just be Dirk's way of coping. The man had a brilliant, if slightly confusing and very frustrating, mind. You had to trust he would make his point eventually. And if he didn't, THEN you would accuse him of changing the subject.You pressed your lips together and furrowed your brow in thought. What DID you believe in? “That’s quite the deep question there, Strider. Heh... I... don’t rightly believe in a god, per se. I don’t quite like the idea of some higher being deciding our fates for us. Now fate... fate is an interesting concept, and I can’t say I’m not intrigued by the idea. But perhaps that we have several possible fates... and our choices push us to different paths.” You lifted your mug to your lips, taking several long sips to give you time to think. This wasn’t exactly the conversation you expected. You weren’t really sure WHAT you expected, but it wasn’t this. But Dirk rarely did, or said, anything without a purpose. So you would roll with the punches for now. “As for ghosts... in my travels with my grandma, I can’t say I’ve never felt anything... strange. Whether it was ghosts or spirits or something else or just my imagination, I can’t say. Seeing a ghost would be a mighty fine adventure, but I’m not quite sure I’d like it all that much.” You took your hand away from his shoulder and scratched at the back of your neck, coaxing down the hair that started to stand on end.Throughout your travels, you had several experiences of... feeling like you were being watched. It was a rather sinister feeling. You tried to laugh it off. “Not all ghosts are as friendly as our good friend Casper. In fact, there could be those that are merely demons masquerading around as ghosts.”“You’ve seen too many movies.” His voice was flat, but you could see the beginnings of a smile.“There’s never such a thing as TOO many!”He snorted his disbelief and sipped his coffee. He was silent for long enough that you were prompted to ask, “What do YOU believe in, Strider?”He took another sip, cradled his mug between his hands, and tilted his head to the side. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have said it was examining the sunset. “Have you ever had a moment... a moment when you think you see something out of the corner of your eye? Where you’re caught off guard, but in that moment of unawareness, you see something so clearly, that you would swear your life on its existence. But when you turn to look, and put it in the center of your vision, to focus on it, it’s gone. And you look everywhere, but there’s no sign or trace that it ever existed at all. And you’re left feeling uneasy, because in that brief moment, you were certain of something, only to find it missing, with no explanation. So you laugh to yourself, and shrug it off, and convince yourself that it was all in your head, a trick of the light, because the alternative, of accepting that there is something real that you can’t see, is just too unnerving and frightening a concept to accept. Have you ever felt that?”A shiver ran down your spine, despite your best efforts to suppress it, and you had the sudden urge to look over your shoulder. Hypothetical or not, his words hit close to home. In your days traveling, camping, venturing, there had been many times where you had had that feeling. And you had always brushed it off and laughed with your grandmother. But her laughter had never quite reached her eyes. You remember seeing something close to pity there, and an awareness that frightened you.“I... can honestly say that I have.” You laughed now, but it sounded thin and shaky, even to you. “But as you’ve said, mate, perhaps I watch too many movies. My grandmother always said I had a very active imagination.”He shrugged with one shoulder. “Imagination, paranoia, or instinct. This is what I believe in.” He stood straight then, and turned to face you. He looked at your face. And though you knew he couldn’t SEE your face, the fact that he found it readily enough was unnerving. “What if the things we see, the things we convince ourselves that we haven’t seen, what if they’re really there? A whole world living alongside ours, but only visible through the corners of our eyes, the weak spot in our vision, where the control of our minds is frail, and the power to bend our perception doesn’t hold.”