Valerie's mouth fell open.
“Without a scratch too,” Greg added miserably. “I don't know how. I don't know why. I've been trying to figure it out, but every time I get close to him, I get...” He gestured vaguely. “Distracted.”
“By his face?”
“By everything!” The words came out more forcefully than Greg intended. “He's infuriating. He's reckless. He deliberately puts himself in danger and it's like he doesn't even care if he dies, but he'll throw himself in front of a truck so a stranger won't have to. He acts like nothing can touch him, but he sat with a dying man he'd never met just so the man wouldn't be alone. He eats fries like it's a performance. He has metal in hisface, Valerie. In his face! And I can't stopthinking about it!”
He was breathing hard by the end. Valerie was staring at him with an expression of dawning delight.
“Oh my god,” she said slowly. “You're head over heels for him.”
“I am not!”
“You absolutely are.” She clapped her hands together. “This is the best thing that's happened in this department since Reva failed to reap that medium and she haunted him for six months.”
“I'm not in love with him,” Greg insisted. “I'm just... professionally invested in understanding why he won't die.”
“Uh-huh. And the ice cream date?”
“Research.”
“The face touching?”
“I had chocolate on my mouth! He was being helpful!”
“The way you looked at him like he hung the moon and all the stars?”
Greg didn't have an answer for that one.
Valerie's grin was enormous. “This is amazing. Morrith is going to have an aneurysm… if reapers can have those, I'm not sure, but…” She patted his shoulder almost fondly. “Honestly? Worth it. He's gorgeous.”
“You're supposed to be on the side of the natural order.”
“Iamon the side of the natural order. I'm also on the side of entertainment.” She winked at him, and then she straightened, smoothing down her blazer. “Now. Morrith is waiting. Try not to cry.”
“I don't cry.”
“You might after this.” She opened the supply closet door and gestured for him to exit. “Also—if you survive? Iwant updates. If you kiss him, I want to know immediately. If you do more than kiss him?—”
“Valerie.”
“—I wantdetails, Grigoreth. Don't forget.”
She shoved him back into the hallway.
Greg stumbled, caught himself, and turned to say something—he wasn't sure what—but Valerie had already resumed her stern professional mask.
“This way,” she said crisply, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. “Morrith is waiting.”
Greg followed her toward his doom, mind reeling.
At least one reaper was rooting for him.
Even if it was just because she was bored.
When Greg approached Morrith's cubicle, his supervisor was drinking out of a coffee mug that said “Death Takes No Holidays.”
He set the mug down with a disappointed expression when he saw Greg.
