Who: Alex, Sato, Death, and Edith What: Pulling things back together. When: Now Where: Death and James' old apartment
Anyone who had seen the apartment when it was in its original, pristine condition would have been shocked at its present state. It was clear that since the man who called himself Alexander Morris had disappeared and the boy Alex had appeared, the apartment had been hidden by some sort of enchantment. No landlord would have let the place fall into disrepair as it had. Bright beams of sunshine cut into the low light of the dim room, and particle of dust caught the light, appearing as flecks of gold and silver in the gloom. The apartment was a mess, the furnature was in such disrepair, that it seemed that a family of stone people had been living there and sitting on everything. The art on the walls in every room was crooked, the mirrors were broken, the vases were full of dead and withered flowers. In the kitchen, there was the distinct sickly sweet scent of alcohol and rotting meat, fruits and vegetables.
In the bedroom, everything was dark. There were two figures in the room; one lay on the bed, the other sat beside the bed, holding the man on the bed's right hand in both of his own. The first man was Death, and the light was not in his eyes, the second was Alex, and the light was in his eyes. There was also a cat, a kitten, really, seated at Alex's feet, nuzzling his toes. Alex stroked Death's limp hand idly, his eyes not really looking anywhere. There wasn't any light in Death anymore, but there was power, and Alex could feel it in himself that he needed that power, that he was supposed to have it back. But he would wait, he would wait for Miss Sato. He could wait for home a few more moments. That would be alright.