At this very moment I feel more like an inexperienced prepubescent than anything else. I am not pleased with this. Nowhere in this feeling is there a sense of happiness. Not even on that very bottom level where you can rationalize any bad thing with the thought that, hey, it could be worse; I could be dead. I could also be attacked by giant karaoke singing hippopotami who force me to eat my vegetables but that doesn’t look like it’s going to happen any time soon. So much for that theory.

What was with this guy anyway? I met him once for all of an hour, tops, and now he’s kidnapped me. I mean, I know he’s not exactly working on his own agenda here and that he’s more than likely just doing his job… but it’s still strange. I’ve never been on friendly terms with Death, per say, but we’re certainly not enemies. I’m just really not attracted to skinny men… or skeletal, depending on how you want to say it.

He had lead me to about the dingiest, dirtiest, most run down motel in existence and I found myself perched on the corner of the bed. My arms were still handcuffed behind me but other than that I was pretty much free. He sat nearby in a rigid armchair that appeared to suit him. It was in a shadow, for one. That seemed very him.

Meanwhile, I tried not to think about what could happen in a motel with handcuffs.

“So what’s up?” I asked, with a less than confident quaver. Stellar vocal control, oh yes. “What exactly do you want? Death got his eye on my head?” I smiled weakly.

“Actually, you are the reincarnated Retterianda queen from E24. Your kin have paid me an exorbitant price to return you to them.”

Say what? I was expecting something more along the lines of, ‘Your exquisite beauty and delightful personality have captured my heart and you have haunted my dreams ever since we first met. I had to find you.’ Okay, well, maybe I didn’t expect that from him but any other eligible male-type might have had that sort of reaction. From him I was anticipating more of a You-owe-Death-a-favor/Death-wants-you-dead/Return-Death’s-collander-that-you-borrowed-or-face-the-consequences kind of thing. I narrowed my eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“I can.”

“But you aren’t?”

“I am not.”

I ran that through in my mind. “You aren’t not or you really just aren’t?”

“I am.”

“You am aren’t?”

“I was not.”

I could sense that he was smiling. It was probably one of those teasing smiles. Or a patient, condescending smile. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. So I did the only thing I could, under the circumstances. I stomped my foot childishly and pouted. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “You are very amusing.”

I suppose that’s the closest thing to a compliment I’m going to get tonight.

“Has anyone told you that underneath all that chilling ‘ooh, I have been sent from Death’ thing you’re not half bad?”

He didn’t reply, though I thought I saw him bristle.

I began to grow frightened. Had I overstepped some rule in the kidnapper/kidnapee relationship? Were there rules for this sort of thing? Why hadn’t I taken Kidnapping Etiquette 109? Why wasn’t I creeping toward the door yet? And did I leave the living room light on at home? That last one had been bugging me for quite some time.

“I am not often complimented.” he said, finally. “I am fond of you as well, though my work is my life. I do not spend much time on other things.” He sneaked a glance at me.

I blinked, momentarily pained with the intense mortification I was suddenly experiencing. It didn’t help that I could feel my cheeks burning crimson. I panicked. “Well, it’s not as though I was proposing to you!” I sputtered. “I’ve got no personal interest in you. None whatsoever! It’s purely professional, seeing as how you’ve decided to kidnap me and all.”

He didn’t say anything, nor did he move. I was suddenly very afraid of him and much more worried than I’d been before. He radiated a freezing sort of heat. You didn’t know you were cold until you thought it out and established that you certainly weren’t hot. This loss of senses was captivating in that ‘I’m holding you at gunpoint so you best not piss me off’ sort of way. I was starting to get the feeling that I might be in danger…