It made his job easy, most of the spirits claimed by Fate concentrated in a singular region with an enjoyable amount of travel on occasion. There wasn't too much battle for his collections, the other shepherds of Destiny wise enough to stay clear of the Shadow Society, and his straying into their territory usually quiet and unexpected enough to escape attention until he was already gone.
His only other colleague had a far more involved and notorious job, one that Donovan wasn't quite as suited for. Fate knew what it was doing with the assignments, and there had never been complaint at his performance despite his rather casual approach. Donovan liked to think he was on relatively good terms with his boss, and luckily his run-in with the god's chosen mouthpiece hadn't caused him any falling in favour. That he heard of, and Donovan maybe worked a bit more efficiently the last week in case he was being watched a bit more closely.
His last scheduled stop of the day brought him again to the temple, Kestrel tied up to a nearby tree. Donovan really didn't require time off for sleep and no bed to even do so in, didn't have any law-mandated breaks after so many hours. But there always was a bit of a lull in deathrates during certain hours, allowed for a bit of time to relax and perhaps read any of the books he filched from the homes of the deceased. Books he liked to think nobody noticed went missing, one such tucked under his arm to flip through for after this last pick up.
Even with no need for sleep, Donovan always had a bit of a tired slump to his shoulders, blinking lazily as he navigated the mostly emptied hallways for the location of the dead cook. He almost missed the Cleric, walked by the unaware living often enough to rarely pay them any mind, but the man interested him a bit more than he'd like to admit. Trying to play it cool this time, he merely nodded as he passed by. Work to do, and all.