“Isn’t dinner delightful…dear?”

Reigen’s voice cracks an embarrassing amount as he stares down at his plate of uneaten spaghetti. He doesn’t need to look up to see the smug look on your face.

The things he does for a job.

The client had came in a week ago, claiming her love life was cursed and she was being possessed by—in her words—a monstrous spiteful demon. No matter how well her dates presumably went, half of the men she had gone out with either died in horrific freak accidents, or they never called her back. The woman claimed she was one date away from giving up on love—and life, again, in her words—completely.

Reigen had done his usual exorcism and massage routine and sent her on her way, until you spoke up, confused as to why he’d let her leave with such a large and dangerous spirit attached to her. The lie he had told was halfhearted at best, but you seemed to believe him enough that you didn’t press the issue anymore. He should’ve known then you were planning something.

When you presented your idea of getting the spirit to latch onto you instead, Reigen had been hesitant. Spirits & Such has only been opened two years in two weeks. If his only employee that wasn’t practically a fetus died taking care of a spirit…he couldn’t bear the thought. Then, you’d invited him and the client (who was sitting nearby and looking awfully hopeful for your half-baked plan) out to eat at an incredibly high end restaurant to lure the spirit in (and of course, you offered to pay for dinner yourself). Suddenly, the idea didn’t seem too bad.

And the part Reigen’ll never admit out loud? He’s actually enjoying this da—dinner. This completely platonic work dinner job thing. Sure, he’s sweaty, and running out of conversation, but you’ve laughed at five out of twenty of his jokes. Maybe you’re enjoying this job as much as Reigen is.

Plus, it’s nice to have a night out where he doesn’t have to wait out in the cold or bribe Mob into coming along so he can get a parent discount.