Death rarely got involved in the lives of others. Fitting, considering. She was only now getting her head back on (pun intended, that damn show had done a number) from all the dead that had been floating around. Her mortal job had gone unphased when she'd shown back up like nothing was wrong. But they also remained unphased when she simply left during one of her shifts. Not that she had to, she could have parts of her drifting through the city at will. She had power in spades.
Some just warranted that rare personal touch. And Death wasn't one to make a show of it. Not all the time.
Finding a Greek in front of where she needed to be was neither a surprise but nor was it normal. She tilted her head but her eyes weren't on his. They were focused an inch or so above his head for a brief moment before they lowered to his eyes. "Hello storm bringer," she gave politely enough. Her voice was neither pleasant nor cold. Like everything else about her, it just was. "Not a place I'd think to find you at," but she didn't judge. It wasn't her place to. "You might want to call a mortician. One here is to find their last home." Creepy, to many, but she felt she was only being kind.