“Scrooge!” The voice was less terrifying than he’d been expecting, more posh and nasal. Scrooge lowered the blanket: a dimly transparent figure stood at the end of the bed, grey hair, grey suit, navy tie, dazzling white shirt. It was holding an attaché case in one hand and a business card in the other.
“I’m the Consultant of Christmas Past.” The figure looked at its watch. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with my report.”