Telling this thing that they were sorry was, first of all, a lie, because the only thing Sulu was sorry for was that he couldn't beat it up. It was also apparently the wrong thing to say, as Ianto's voice pitched and he stepped back. Sulu grabbed him by the shoulder and watched as the lights flickered, dousing the room in darkness for a few moments before returning.

"I don't think that's going to help either," Sulu mumbled into Ianto's ear, feeling woefully underprepared standing there with Ianto in a towel. He knew that he'd probably made the wrong move, yelling at the thing, and his fear was compounded when he heard that godforsaken voice call out Ianto's name from somewhere near the settee. The decanter and the caddy it was in shook, rattling against the coffee table. Sulu suddenly didn't care that he wasn't exactly dressed for a haunting, so long as all that crystal stayed the hell away from them.