His faces scrunches up at that implication. "Ew." The verbal slip of distaste is out of his mouth before he could even think to stop it. "No offense," he adds a beat or two later with a slight shrug. "But you're not really, uh-- my type." She's dead for starters. And he likes boys more, anyway.

"Don't bother," he waves a hand dismissively. "My family are all varying degrees of disasters and have no place to judge, even if they could see you and all your reckless ghosty behavior."