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“You’ve been wanting to say that to me for a long time,” said Parson.

“Sure have,” said Damian. “And maybe a part of you has been waiting to hear it, too.”

“Hah. I don’t think so. If there’s one thing about you that I haven’t missed, it’s your complete inability to choose your words tactfully.”

“Had to leave something for you to get good at, didn’t I?”

“Careful, now. That was almost a compliment.”

“Nothin’ ‘almost’ about it. Take it and be grateful.”

“Oh, I’m positively glowing. Can’t you tell?”

“And stop talking shit about Germal while you’re at it. You’ve never understood him half as well as you thought you did.”

“What? Why are you defending him like he was some angel? He was, quite literally, the biggest liar we’ve ever known. And he wronged you, more than anyone.”

“And yet he also gave his life in order to save your stupid neck. Have some respect, asshole.”

“Pah. While I do appreciate the two of you rescuing me, I only ended up in that position because of him. Because, foolishly, I decided to trust him again.”

“Don’t be such a wet blanket. Nothin’ foolish about what happened. Don’t you get it? We were finally able to take our shot. After all these years, thinkin’ the plan was dead and buried, we still found an opportunity in the end. And hell, we got close! Closer than anyone else has gotten in centuries. And we lived. So we can still take another crack at it, one day.”

“I think your mind must have gone again. This optimism is too out-of-character for you.”

“Been forty years. I’ve changed some. Just as you have.”

“I liked you better before.”

That made Damian snicker. “Feeling’s mutual, you piece of shit.”

Their slow, shambling trek across the landscape continued for quite a while longer. Having been walking for days already, they’d initially just picked a direction and hoped for the best. The reapers had been too exhausted to even speak, let alone provide actual guidance on where to go.

Unfortunately, even after Feromas and Overra had recovered, they weren’t much help in that regard.

They’d considered destroying their brains, of course, in order to let the reapers move more quickly, but with the regeneration stunted so badly, there was quite a heavy concern that even regenerating their whole bodies from scratch would prove problematic for the reapers.

Apparently, Damian had heard--via Germal, no less--that Jackson was currently suffering from a similar affliction and that a full body regrowth would not fix it.

The Mad Demon was such a menace. This felt much worse than the initial taste that Parson had gotten when he was first captured.

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He must’ve been, right? Feromas wouldn’t still be Damian’s reaper if he thought the man was completely gone.

Agh. Or would he? Feromas was something of a special case. He was directly related to his servant by blood. Feromas’ great grandson. And while the reaper may not have demonstrated much genuine affection, as far as Parson could recall, perhaps there was still a deeper level of attachment that was simply never voiced.

An irrational hope.

What else could possibly explain the reaper not releasing Damian’s soul after what happened forty years ago? Parson couldn’t fathom any other justification.

It didn’t help that he’d seen other such cases, as well, even from reapers who had no blood relation.

Reapers were still human, after all. Or used to be, at least. They still retained all the same psychological vulnerabilities.

The same inability to let go, long after they knew they should.

“Stop lookin’ at Feromas like that,” said Damian. “If you’ve got somethin’ to say, then say it. Stop being a coward.”

Hmph. Maybe he had a point. It had been too long. Parson had gotten too comfortable dancing around subjects instead of addressing them directly. If he was being totally honest, that was one of the things he missed most about his friend here. Damian had been one of the very few people whom Parson could be straightforward with.

They’d simply known each other too long and too well to be anything else.

“You’re behaving surprisingly sane,” said Parson. “It’s been days now, and you still haven’t said anything completely psychotic yet.”

Damian snorted. “Maybe I’m just working up to it.”

“I bet you are.” He looked to Feromas again. “Is he normally lucid for this long?”

The reaper noticed Damian look at him, too. ‘...No,’ said Feromas. ‘This is unusual.’

God. Parson was already kicking himself. Stop hoping, idiot. It wasn’t going to end well. It never did.

But he couldn’t help himself.

“...Do you think Germal’s death might have something to do with it?” said Parson.

‘The thought has crossed my mind, yes.’

“You think the little punk was keeping me crazy all these years, huh? Hmph. Of course you’d think that. You always did see the worst in people, didn’t you?”

Parson might’ve made an expression of utter disbelief if the muscles on his withered face still worked. “I don’t see how you, of all people, have any right to tell me that. Of the three of us, you were always the most bitter and jaded.”

“No. I was just the most confrontational. You’re the one who kept quiet when things actually got to you. You let bad ideas change your mind. Your deeply held values. Instead of having a conversation and figuring things out. Which is why you’re both a dumbass AND a coward.”

This fucking prick.

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