Whistling a tune silently to himself, Reaper busied himself with cleaning up the bar. Being the Grim Reaper, bartending was just a side job that he pursued when he was bored. Yes, he enjoyed it, but it wasn’t nowhere as important as his main field of work. It was about 10 minutes before closing, so most people had already gone home, except for you. Reaper had seen you a couple times before, but not for so long. Honestly, he was getting worried about you. Setting the dirty rag down near the end of the bar, the skeletal figure leaned over you, uttering a faint sigh at your current state.

Listen, buddy. I don’t think I can serve you anymore. You’ve had a good bit tonight, eh? Go home and get some rest. Call a taxi, or an uber, or a friend even.

Patting you on the back, Reaper urged you to go home. Plus, the bar would close soon regardless, and you were the only person left. Picking up a glass, Reaper reached for a clean rag, throughly swabbing the inside of the glass until it sparkled.