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‘...As a matter of fact, I did,’ said Garovel.

Hector waited for Garovel to elaborate, but when it seemed like that wasn’t going to happen, he decided to ask the pressing question. ‘...Was he your servant?’

‘No. But he was the servant of a good friend of mine. A good friend who also went mad and died with him.’

‘Holy shit, Garovel. I’m so sorry that, uh... I mean, I’m sorry that you went through that.’

‘Yeah...’

And Hector was abruptly reminded of just how old Garovel really was, how much the reaper must have seen and experienced and endured. It was sometimes all too easy to forget that. Hector got the sense that Garovel preferred it that way, even now, with how little emotion the reaper was showing.

‘Sometimes, people just go crazy, Hector. Even normal, everyday people. And in our line of work? Reapers and servants? All the madness that we see? It’s more common than most of us care to think about.’

Was it really that simple, Hector wondered? Could people really just snap? For no reason at all? Hector wasn’t sure he believed that. But Garovel was speaking from experience, and Hector didn’t have much cause to challenge him on it. Not right now, anyway. Maybe some other time, he would.

At length, they encountered Carver again, sitting alone in some sort of small drawing room. He stood when he noticed them.

“Ah, I was worried you might have gotten lost.” He craned his neck as if confused. “You are the same armored gentleman from earlier, no?”

Oh, right. He must have looked completely different in his iron armor now. “Yes.”

“I have already showed the others to their rooms. Please allow me to do the same for you.”

“Thank you...”

Carver took two big steps to his right and motioned toward the door there. “Aaand I’m done! Your room’s right here! Aha! Hope that walk wasn’t too exhausting for you!”

The man seemed to be fishing for a laugh, so Hector tried to give him one.

Carver cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was funnier in my head.”

Hector followed him through the door, still dragging his iron box of gun parts along. Thankfully, there was just enough space for it in the corner by the bed. He finally sat down with a sigh of relief and wondered what kind of material this weird, rubbery mattress was made from. The clamor of his armor was also rather loud in this confined space, but he didn’t quite feel like removing it yet.

Then he noticed that Carver was lingering in the open doorway, observing him.

Hector racked his brain, worrying that he’d forgotten some sort of important courtesy. “...I appreciate your hospitality,” he tried.

“Oh, think nothing of it,” said Carver.

And that was all he said.

And he still did not leave.

And everything became abruptly awkward.

“...Was there something else?” said Hector.