“So, mortal…” The word rolled off his tongue in a gentle sigh, as he used his foot to idly swivel left and right in his desk chair, “Be honest.”

The reaper’s head lolled to one side, scarlet gaze twinkling, as he gazed into the webcam lens through pale lashes: “Were you sitting around doing nothing, waiting for my call?”

It’d only been a few days since the two had met… and there was still much he hadn’t revealed, such as details regarding the lucrative chatting software that they used to communicate.

Despite the mystery revolving around him like a shroud, the self-proclaimed ‘Grim Reaper’ posed no real danger (as long as you weren’t sunflowers being grown in an elderly grandma’s garden). He had already become a familiar presence in a certain human’s life, in spite of the rules that governed his elusive existence.

And… admittedly, he wasn’t entirely unwelcome change in routine.

As usual, Grim sat at his computer, resting his cheek atop a closed fist with an air of nonchalance; the other hand rested on Lord Azrael the Great, the axolotl plushie draped over his lap like some feline parody.

The light from his monitor clashed against his scarlet bedroom, as he watched the mortal’s face through the computer monitor with feigned indifference.