It worked both ways. He could see and hear them. They could hear and see him too, but he determined to do his best to ignore them. The idea of social amenities no longer bothered Kane. Being impolite was an absurdity. Social decency was a mutual thing, and these people weren't considering his rights at all.
He finished his shower and draped the towel around his waist and went back out into the closet they had given him. He walked toward the bed, sidestepping people, chairs, tables still unable to realize fully that these things weren't really here.
The jukebox got louder. A couple danced through him. Suddenly, Kane stood shivering, a raw panic taking hold. Control fled before the rising jukebox clangor, the laughter, the waving and shouting and hideous unwelcome demons of camaraderie.
He felt himself wildly waving his arms about and shouting at the walls.
"Get out! For God's sake get out and let me sleep!"
Ben was staring at Kane from only a few inches away.
"You," Kane pointed a finger at the three dimensional ghost. "You—fade out, go away somewhere. No—no, Phil, not you. Get these other people out. I want to talk to you—Phil—"
"Easy now," Phil said soothingly. "We'll be all right. In a little while now—"
"I am all right, but I won't be if I can't sleep. Phil—can't all this just—just be tuned out or something?"
Kane tried to imagine none of the others were there. Just the small room, himself, and Phil. But the others were all looking at Kane, all of them looking, all of them smiling. Lucille was looking too, but somehow he was sure he could see a reflection of his own feelings in her eyes, hidden, but there.