If he rolled his eyes any harder they would have rolled right out of his skull. "Do the poltergeists make your bloody shitehole of a pisspot hotel any less of a hotel, hmm? How is this place any different?" And God, please, nothing would please him more than her just trying to convince him that the hotel isn't haunted. What's she going to tell him? It just has flareups in paranormal activities on several days ending in -y?

"It's not any different from what I do everyday. Don't blame the ghosts for your incompetence," he quips. Clearly if he can deal with one or three hundred annoying lost souls, it's her fault that she can't enjoy her time on board the ship.