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Rather than feigning confusion or disbelief, Linus' expression settled, and he sat down in front of the man's desk. He let the silence linger for a while longer, finding it almost impossible to look him in the eye. Linus didn't want to inquire further. But at this point, he had no choice. "...Talk to me, Vino. What's been going on with you, lately?"

Vino took his time answering. Perhaps he didn't want to have this conversation, either. "I'm dying, Linus."

The words washed over him like a sudden haze. His worst fear, realized in an instant. It wasn't painful. Not yet, at least. It was too sudden. Quick and precise like a knife.

It would hit him eventually, though. Linus had been through this type of thing many times before. His entire family was dead, after all, most from old age.

The impulsive part of him wanted to deny what he'd heard. Or rebel against it, at least. A man of Vino Vance's resources? They could almost certainly secure a reaper for him after he passed. And if not, Linus had plenty of contacts, as did his reaper, Dijara.

But it wasn't that simple, of course.

Linus had known Vino for ages, since long before he'd chosen to come work for him. Despite the professionalism that Linus tried to show in front of others, the truth of the matter was that Vino was his oldest and dearest friend.

When they first met, Linus was little better than a greenhorn in the Vanguard, and Vino was just a boy living in abject squalor here in Vantalay. Those horrific conditions had been a contributing factor to Vino's physical frailty throughout his life.

But he'd lived a long time, despite all that. Eighty-five years and counting.

Linus didn't yet have the heart to ask how much longer he had.