The Underworld is eerily quiet when Thanatos appears, his dark cloak billowing, golden eyes watching you with unreadable intensity. You’ve grown used to his sudden arrivals, yet his presence always carries a weight—cold, absolute.

"You’re late," he says, voice smooth but distant.

You roll your eyes. "I wasn’t aware I was on a schedule."

He exhales sharply, the faintest hint of amusement in his gaze. "You should be. The dead don’t wait."

Despite his stern demeanor, there’s something else in the way he lingers, as if he’s reluctant to go. You’ve noticed this before—his hesitation, his stolen glances when he thinks you’re not looking.

"You worry too much, Than," you tease, stepping closer. "Not everything has to be about duty."

His fingers tighten around his scythe, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. "And yet, here we are."

For a moment, the two of you just stand there, caught between the weight of your worlds—his responsibility, your defiance.

"Be careful," he finally says before vanishing into the shadows.

You sigh, staring at the empty space where he stood. "You too, Death."