As if on cue, Samantha arrived with Greg’s milkshake. She set it down in front of the reaper with a little flourish. It was garnished with whipped cream and a cherry on top and Greg's eyes went wide as he took it in, clearly forgetting that he meant to be upset.
“This is beautiful,” he said. “That’s for me?”
“It's what you ordered.”
“Wow.” Greg’s voice turned reverent as he pulled the glass closer, examining the whipped cream peak like it might contain the secrets of the universe.
To him, maybe it did.
Dustin watched, amused in spite of himself, as Greg picked up the cherry by the stem and studied it. “What do I do with this?”
“You eat it.”
Greg bit the cherry off the stem, chewed thoughtfully, and made a small noise of wonder. Then he took a sip of the milkshake and his whole face transformed.
Dustin smiled.
“Good?” he asked, even though the answer was obvious.
“This is the best thing I've ever consumed.” Greg took another long sip. “Why didn't anyone tell me about chocolatemilkshakes?”
“What, this wasn’t covered in reaper orientation?” Dustin teased.
Greg, naturally, failed to detect the sarcasm. He sounded genuinely aggrieved when he responded. “It was not! We learned about filing systems and guidance regulations. What to say and what not to say. No one mentioned milkshakes.No one!”
Dustin laughed without meaning to.
Greg looked up from his milkshake, startled, like he hadn't expected to be funny.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Dustin shook his head. “You're just... not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Something scarier. You're Death. Capital D. You're supposed to be intimidating.”
“I'madeath,” Greg corrected. “One of many. And I'm not supposed to be intimidating. I'm supposed to be comforting. A guide through the final threshold.” He looked down at his milkshake. “That's all I ever wanted to be.”
The vulnerability in his voice hit Dustin somewhere he wasn't prepared for.
But something else snagged at him too. Something that didn't sit right.
“But you never had a choice, did you?” Dustin said. “You didn't choose this job. This life.”
Greg stirred his milkshake with the straw. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you just said you popped into existence as a reaper. You weremadefor this. No one asked you what you wanted to be, or am I getting that wrong?”
Greg kept looking at his milkshake. “I wasn’t asked,but… they didn’t have to ask me.” Finally he dragged his gaze up to meet Dustin’s. “I want to be a good reaper. That’s true no matter what you say.”
Dustin let that sit for a moment. Then he asked, “But have you ever let yourself want anything else?”
Greg's mouth opened, but no words came out.
Dustin watched him fumble for an answer, watched the way his brow furrowed, the way his fingers tightened around the milkshake glass. Like the question had short-circuited something in him.
“I have a notebook,” Greg said finally.
