Chapter 4: This Feeling

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Another busy, boring night. Two weeks since the Brinks incident. I ran across the rooftops and I'll admit, I enjoyed feeling the wind against my face and floating my hair away from my neck and head. Summer was, perhaps, my least favorite season. Not only was it unnecessarily humid and sticky, but it was also hot, humid, and sticky. The nights weren't much better.

I stopped to wipe the moisture accumulating on my forehead. 

"Hey!"

I jumped and looked around. I finally looked down and saw familiar (h/c) hair and big eyes. I couldn't just jump down.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I want to talk to you!" she called.

"Of course," I muttered. I opened my to-die list. I had nearly all the souls I had to collect, but two were back-to-back. I couldn't afford to be late.

"Now's not a good time!" I called back.

"When would be a good time?" she asked.

I sighed. This woman could not take the hint that I didn't want to meet. Then again, perhaps she took to heart my statement about the timidity of women.

I checked my watch, a gift from the receptionist for my one-hundredth year of work, "Perhaps one a.m.?"

"Alright!" she called, "What about in the church?"

"Alright!" I replied before walking out of view and then jumping to the next rooftop. 

I collected the soul of what turned out to be twins. Apparently, they fought over the fortune they inherited from their father and killed one another. Humans are quite black-hearted creatures. A smidge of temptation and they fall an extra twelve kilometers past ground.

I jumped down from an old shop to the sidewalk and stretched my arms into the air before tucking my hands into my pockets and walking the rest of the way to the church. I checked my watch. There was ten more minutes until she was supposed to be there, but when I arrived, she was sitting in the center of the cemetery and braiding a flower chain.

"You needed something?" I asked.

She turned her head when she saw me and smiled.

"I want to ask where you went," she said, "You didn't come back after the red-haired gardener escorted me to the ballroom."

"My business there was completed," I said.

"You wanted to kill Lord Brinks?" she asked.

I paused. I hadn't meant for it to come out in such an incriminating way. 

"Well, that's not what I meant," I said, "I just meant that my business happened to conclude at around the same time is all."

"You're a poor liar," she said, smiling slightly and turning her attention back to the flowers.

"So you brought me here to tell me you think I wanted Brinks dead? Is that all?"

"No. You're the one who's acting like you wanted Brinks dead. Only now am I inclined to think that."

I growled softly and let out a deep groan. I noticed her cheeks turned slightly pink and grinned. I still don't get what women see in me.

"You asked to meet at a church. Any particular reason?"

"I was wondering how it felt to die," she said, "I wanted to see what it was like to sit in a cemetery with someone staring at me."

I smiled slightly, "That's pretty strange, (Y/N)."

"I already have one foot in the grave. I can be however I want," she said.

"What do you me?"

She waved off the question, "How do you think it feels to die? You've killed people. Surely you know how it feels to be threatened and inches away from death."

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