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((Triple Monday -- Page 3 of 3))
The man slipped the paper into his coat, and then exhaled noticeably. The night air was cold enough that Hector could see breath, though only faintly.

‘Bah,’ said Garovel. ‘Couldn’t tell anything else about it.’

After a short time, the man pulled out a cigarette and a small drink and began partaking of both.

Hector relaxed a little, feeling mildly irritated. ‘Back to waiting, I guess...’

‘Hmm. Well, I suppose you could just walk up and talk to him, ask him if anything’s wrong.

‘You really think that’d work?’

‘No. Just saying it’s an option.’

‘I feel like he’d just run away if I did that.’

‘I’m sure you’d be able to catch him and make him talk.’

‘Uh... he’s not a bad guy, Garovel.’

‘We don’t know that. We don’t know anything about him, other than he’s in danger. He could be the biggest son of a bitch in the world, for all we know.’

‘I’m not sure that justifies torturing him.’

‘I never said anything about torturing him. I said you could “make him talk.” That doesn’t mean torture.’

‘...It kinda does, though, doesn’t it?’

‘No, Hector. It could mean scaring the information out of him, for instance.’

‘By threatening to torture him.’

‘Hey, threatening to torture someone is not the same as torturing someone.’

‘Garovel.’

‘Look, I’m just spitballin’ ideas here. Not saying you have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable doing.’

‘I don’t feel comfortable threatening to torture some random dude on the street, no.’

‘Alright, fine. Geez. It’s not like I was--’ The reaper cut himself off, which drew Hector’s attention anew.

There was something different about the man now, Hector suddenly realized. The way he was standing had changed. He seemed unsteady. Weaker. After a moment, he leaned against the street lamp for support but struggled even to hold himself up and began sliding against it toward the ground.

‘Hector!’

He was already leaping off the roof. He summoned a descending platform to soften his landing, and then he was in full sprint toward the man, no longer caring how noisy the iron armor might be.

Hector slid up beside him as the man was just about flat on the pavement. ‘What’s wrong with him?! He didn’t hurt himself, did he?!’

‘No, I was watching for that. He might just be sick. Let’s take him to the hospital. And don’t carry him. Use your iron. You want to keep his body from flailing around and worsening his condition while you’re transporting him.’

‘Okay!’ Hector did exactly as the reaper instructed and materialized a kind of small, stabilization chamber. A pod, basically--not so dissimilar to the ones that had been used to transport the non-servant Rainlords through the Undercrust. This one was just purely iron, of course, but it seemed to do the job well enough as Hector brought it along with him on its own, accompanying platform.