Instead, he guided another fry to his mouth and caught the reaper who was—allegedly—not obsessed with him watch his lips move as if he wanted to be that fry.
Something sparked inside of Dustin. Maybe it was his rebellious streak, maybe it was the part of him that refused to sit still with discomfort, but he picked up another fry.
And he held Greg's gaze as he dragged it through the ketchup—deliberate and unhurried—and brought it to his lips.
Greg's ears went pink.
Dustin bit down slowly, letting his tongue catch a spot of ketchup at the corner of his mouth.
The pink spread to Greg's cheeks.
Dustin smiled.
Not obsessed my ass.
There was something Greg wanted that didn't have anything to do with being a reaper or notebooks or even greasy salty food.
Something he would likely never ask for.
Idly, Dustin wondered if death could be corrupted.
He wondered what it would sound like.
“You're staring,” Dustin said.
Greg's blush deepened. “I wasn't… I was just observing.”
“Uh-huh.” Dustin licked his lips. Greg's eyes tracked the movement. “And what exactly are you observing?”
“The... um… the mechanics of human eating. So I can get even better atit.”
“Greg.”
“Yes?”
“You're a terrible liar.”
Greg looked down at his plate. “I don't know how to lie,” he said quietly. “It's not something reapers do. Death is honest.”
“Sounds inconvenient.”
“It is.” Greg picked up a fry of his own, not looking at Dustin. “Especially right now.”
Silence followed those words. Dustin let it stretch just long enough to be uncomfortable.
Then, because he couldn't help himself: “Do reapers fuck?”
Greg choked on his fry.
Dustin waited, enjoying the way Greg's face cycled through various shades of red.
“I—that's—” Greg grabbed his milkshake and took a long drink. It didn't seem to help. “Why would you ask that?”
“You said you were given bodies. The Bodily Needs Mandate, right? Eating, drinking, bathroom breaks.” Dustin leaned back in the booth, arms crossed, watching Greg squirm. “You said you were fullyequipped.”
“I am, but that's not…I mean…” Greg set down the milkshake. Picked it up again. Set it down. “The mandate was intended to help us understand mortality. To make us more relatable to our clients.”
“So?”
