Greg was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Dustin had stopped walking.
“Okay.” Dustin turned around, arms crossed. “Why are you following me around?”
Greg froze.
He looked over his shoulder. There was no one behind him.
He looked back at Dustin.
Dustin was looking directly at him.Athim. Not through him. Not past him.
He had a silver lip ring.
Shiny brown hair and a silver lip ring and several more piercings through his ear and?—
None of that mattered now.
Focus, Greg.
This mortal is staring at you.
“I—” Greg started.
“Are you with insurance?” Dustin's eyes narrowed. “Because I'm fine. I've had worse than a mascot attack.”
Greg opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Say something. ANYTHING. You've practiced for decades.You have SCRIPTS.
“I...” Greg heard his own voice like it belonged to someone else. “I'm not with insurance.”
Greg wanted to slap himself.
I’m not with insurancewas definitely not among the perfect phrases he’d carefully practiced.
“Dustin! We need you for the interview segment!”
Dustin's head turned toward another mortal waving at him from across the landing zone.
“Coming.” Dustin left without another glance at Greg.
Greg watched him go and tried to remember how to breathe.
He didn't have to, technically, but he'd always found the habit comforting.
Licking his lips, he considered his immediate future.
He needed to go back to HQ. He needed to file a report. He needed to tell Morrith that not only had the collection failed, but somehow the target had?—
Had what? Developed the ability to perceive entities outside the mortal spectrum?
Morrith was going to kill him.
The paperwork alone…
Greg returned to Reaper HQ forty-five minutes after he'd left it. That was how long it had taken him to ruin everything.
