Shit. This was really not his day. Dammit. He strugged a bit, but it was obvious this freak was much stronger than he was. Being investigated... that set off all kind of mental alarms. Fuck. So he lied. Not completely inaccurate or unlikely, but not quite true, either. "I'm eighteen, or at least I was when I fucking died, not that it bloody well matters." He stepped on the bastard's foot, hard. "I was in a car in goddamn Los Angeles. Not that it's any of your business." This was definitely not how he had planned to spend his afterlife and one of the shittiest beginnings he could imagine, overpowered and bullied as soon as he arrived. Maybe this really was hell.