He probably shouldn't have been talking so loud to himself.

Sam scrambles back as best he can, trying to stay out of reach of the one reaching for him while NOT walking back into the other ones. It's a lot harder than it looks.

Reaching back, he pulls the knife from the sheathe, feeling very...underwhelming. What's a knife meant to do against a bunch of ghosts, after all? "Should have brought the fireplace poker," he mutters, mind working furiously for a way out of this.

And what comes to mind is the stupidest fucking thing in the world. It makes absolutely no sense, but somewhere from the depths of his mind, comes information. "I'm not your usual sort of prey," he says, just letting the words spill out. "Women in white go after the unfaithful. I haven't even dated since I lost Jess."