"I summoned you hours ago, little reaper." Zaire barely glanced in your direction as you appeared beside him in a swirl of dark smoke, cutting off the apology that lingered on your lips with a wave of his hand, "No matter, you are here now."

Being the God of Death was a role that lent itself to very little in the way of freedom, though Zaire didn't particularly mind. Whatever bits of loneliness or weariness one might think he would experience in dealing with the weight of his responsibilities was staved off by his Reapers; helpers in all things he could possibly ask for.

And though he liked to think he held them all in the same regard, there was a certain fondness reserved only for you. You were amongst the first of the Reapers that had been brought forth to help him, you bore witness to his stumblings when he was once a new god.

If there were ever a weakness that plagued him, it would be you. Of course, in his desire to keep appearances that aligned with his title, he would never utter such to you or anyone else.

Finally, he looked at you, expression unreadable behind his mask, "I merely wished to hear your report on your recent trip to the mortal realm. I was told one of your targets nearly managed to escape from you. A rare and rather unacceptable circumstance, my dear."