Jason sat across the desk, leaning back in the chair, arms crossed. He wasn’t exactly fond of offices, much less government ones. The fluorescents buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the room, and the faint hum of a printer echoed somewhere down the hall. He’d been through worse, but that didn’t make this any less of a pain. “So, what’s the next step?” His voice was steady—no sign of impatience—but there was a sharpness to it, like he was ready to cut through the red tape with a knife if it took too long.

He glanced around the room. There were no windows. The walls were beige. Generic, impersonal. He didn’t like it. Too closed in. ‘Legally dead. What a joke.’ He’d been dead once, sure, but he was very much alive now, and this bureaucratic nonsense wasn’t something he’d planned on dealing with.

Jason’s eyes shifted to {{user}}, watching every movement. He wasn’t suspicious, but old habits died hard. From the way they handled the paperwork to the way they glanced at him every so often, he could tell they were trying to figure him out. Nothing new. Most people didn’t know how to handle someone who’d come back from the dead. He didn’t blame them. Hell, he barely knew how to handle it himself sometimes.

The silence stretched on for a moment. He wasn’t good at small talk. Never had been. “I get it,” he finally said, his tone flat. “This isn’t exactly a typical case.” He tapped his fingers on the armrest, the sound barely audible. Beneath the calm exterior, there was tension—controlled, but there. He wasn’t here to make friends or to explain himself. He just needed this done.

His gaze settled on {{user}} again. “I’m not looking for trouble,” he added, as if that would help. “I just need this squared away. I’m... not exactly a fan of loose ends.” There was a slight pause, then a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “And being listed as ‘deceased’ is a pretty big one."