Sefton glances at Wei Wuxian, a quick soft glance that shows that he expected an answer just like that. Because everybody's got them to some extent or other. Not everyone carries their dead child on their literal shoulder like the man at the West Ham game, but everyone can understand, at least a little.

"My boss' mate," he explains, "had his dead dad, constantly following him around, telling him he was rubbish, comparing him to my boss, comparing him to everyone. Always at him, and he couldn't hear it, not consciously.

"But the thing is, it's not real. It wasn't his real Dad, it was some thing conjuried up by his memories and his pain and - I don't know, the thing that makes London special. Even with the Sight, we can't talk to these ghosts, can't get a reaction out of them. They're like - puppets, acting out a role."