He shivered, cold despite the time of year. He walked over to the street corner. He stooped down, touching the red splotch sprayed across the concrete of the curb. Noir shivered because his senses tingled, and despite all the other things he had going on... when a spirit called, the necromancer couldn't say no. He had to try and help.
Closing his eyes, Noir let the magic flow. Then in a very quiet tone, he spoke the most polite words he could think of.
"How can I help?"
A stranger's memories came into the necromancer. They flooded into his thoughts. Lonely thoughts, straying thoughts. Last wishes. Regrets. Forgotten worries.
It hadn't been a clean death. This apparition still didn't know what had happened. It was confused. It mourned its own lack of understanding. He could hear it try to ask him over and over the same thing.
Noir nodded. He sat down on the curb. He waved the spirits onward.
"Go ahead. Take your time. I've got all night. I'm here to listen."
After all, that's what he did. Necromancer with a heart of gold. Helping the lost dead. He could never say no.