Bad taste in music, hated having to sing... Does that mean he did use Jeff's magic? How's that even possible without years, years of practice, and learning, and building an understanding with the Gift? How could he even cast a single spell if he couldn't stand the music?

Every question answered just brings a hundred more, and it's hard enough keeping a breakdown at bay as it is. The stretch of nothing in his memory is unsettling, the knowledge that his body was just moving around, doing, saying, casting things he'll never remember makes him want to scream until his throat's raw, and no matter how many answers Bash can give him, it won't be enough.

Jeff's breath hitches, and he reaches for Bash's hand, lacing their fingers together with the faintest squeeze.

"What was her name?"

Fuck Chase, whoever he was. Jeff will process his feelings about the ghost later. But he'll do his part to help Bash fulfill that request and remember the girl, if he can. It's some small kindness to focus on, at least.

But that's the last he'll ask about the past month. He takes another breath, trying to take it slow, and calm.

"Do you... um. Do you still have your sharpies?"

Because right now, he just wants to be with Bash. Exist. Just the two of them, with no homicidal ghosts haunting the room.