It's not the first time this sort of advice has been leveled with him, and it likely won't be the last. It's not even wrong, necessarily; he spent his whole life gambling with his own safety, and when he finally lost, he knew better than most the impact it would have. That was, in fact, kind of the point.

"At least I've got the guts to fight for what I've got left," he says, cold, and moves to brush past Celehar with a light but pointed shoulder-check, "instead of giving it all up to the first creep who asks."

Maybe that makes him a ghost — in the abstract sense, the way he understands it — too afraid or angry or sad or nostalgic or whatever to let himself take the next step. Maybe that's unhealthy, or stupid, or wrong. But he meant what he said before: no amount of preaching, from Celehar or the Ferryman or anyone else, is going to unstick a ghost from whatever's got them stuck.