"I've only ever field tested with one other person at a time." Ghost floats forward--one of the toddlers, the little girl, is already squirming forward and reaching to wrap chubby arms around Houston's neck with a little whimper, trusting that reassuring voice.

Ghost doesn't waste time on silly emotions like jealousy (though seriously he's pretty jealous of Houston's obvious talent with children), crouching and observing the other child for a second, then reaching a claw-tipped hand of his own for the boy. The kid naturally shrinks back from it and scrunches his eyes shut. "Hurry. If the fire reaches a gas main, this building could explode. --Houston." It's more a request, like tell this kid I'm okay, despite my super scary costume and generally robotic demeanor.