Angel Dave was busy telling Sgt Lace about his battle with the Irish Sea for the third time and absently flicking sea salt all over the floor with his wings. A couple of patrons had moved tables already, and the ghost that worked behind the counter was starting to get the hump. The Hallowed Ground coffee shop was where Angel Dave and Judas usually met to blow some steam off and get out of the office. It was owned and run by a consortium of ghosts. Real ghosts.
Real ghosts.Judas and Lace had returned from the court of Lord Dodger with empty stomachs, both wanted to pull up a stool and consume vast quantities of sizzling bangers and creamy mash and imbibe the cheap gin and beer, but the Captain needed burying deep within the Time Fields. There were places in the Time Fields that were beyond
