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‘Eh, I’d bet on you,’ said Garovel. ‘You’ve already faced worse, I think.’

Hector blinked at the sudden compliment. It was nice, but a part of him would’ve preferred another insult.

‘Oh, and by the way,’ the reaper went on, ‘I know we’ve been busy, but I haven’t forgotten about your birthday.’

Hector kind of had. ‘...What day is today?’

‘You don’t know?’

Hector gave a stilted shrug. ‘If I’m honest, everything’s just a blur to me right now.’

‘It’s the twenty-third. Your birthday’s in two days.’

‘Oh...’

‘Do you need me to remember how old you are, too?’

‘You’re one to talk,’ said Hector. ‘How old are you, exactly, huh?’

‘You don’t get to use that excuse until you’re at least a hundred,’ said Garovel.

‘I’m turning seventeen. Happy now?’

‘Actually, you’ll be turning eighteen.’

‘What?’

‘I’m just fucking with you.’

‘Ugh.’

‘But the fact that you seemed genuinely confused for a second is amazing.’

‘I was only confused because I trust you to tell me important shit!’

‘Oh, well, I’m flattered.’

‘I should just never trust anything you tell me.’

‘Aw, don’t say that. I got you a birthday present in order to demonstrate my affection.’

Hector’s brow lowered. ‘...How could you get me--? You don’t have a physical body, so you couldn’t have--’

‘Does that mean you don’t want it?’

Hector’s mouth flattened. ‘...Alright, where is it?’

‘It’s not a physical object, you materialistic fuck. I got you a verbal birthday card.’

‘A what?’

‘A verbal birthday card.’

‘Is that as stupid as it sounds?’

‘If by “stupid” you mean “incredibly thoughtful of me,” then yes. Don’t worry, though. I’m not expecting anything in return.’