Repose

[In true Tim fashion, he doesn't tell anyone that he's leaving until he's so far gone that they can't stop him. A series of letters go out, all postmarked from Paris.]

[To Julia Langdale, a vintage card. It isn't signed. On the back:]
If you ever want to come back, I'll be here.

[To Stephanie Miller, a letter in a plain white envelope. It's handwritten.]
Steph,
I imagine you're cussing me out good right about now. I don't think I ever properly learned how to say goodbye. It feels too finite to say goodbye. I wanted to talk to you before I left. I wanted to hear your voice, maybe give you a chance to tell me what an idiot I am. Then I'd just end up staying, and I don't want to stay. The town works for you and Eddie, it looks good on you. I think you can make a real life of it, and if not there, some place that isn't anything like where we grow up. You deserve it, Stephanie. I love you. I always, always will.
Timmy

[To Damian Wainright, a thick yellow envelope with plastic bubble inner lining.]
[Inside is a key on a metal ring, it opens a unit in a private storage facility back in Jersey. Inside the unit, if Damien ever goes to open it, is all of Tim's old crime fighting gear. In the envelope, there's also a small note. Just a few words.]
Do good. Do better.
- T

Who: Hel and Lucifer
What: Coffee
Where: Two death gods walk into a diner...
When: Nowish
Warnings/Rating: Companionable coffee doesn't require warnings

The invitation was silently issued.

Nel had sensed him, you see. She was a pagan deity, this much was true, but christian deities were just another flavor of ice cream, and Nel knew the other death gods well. She'd not met this one, but she sensed his arrival, and she knew he would sense her presence. This was, after all, a shared world. Humanity, where everyone believed their particular faith trumped, and the gods knew better. They all shared these people between them, and it was a constant battle for preference, worship, survival. Nel had no interest in ruling her afterlife, and, so it would seem, neither did this christian death god that had arrived. She was, however, heady on the heels of worship and bonfire, and she was, perhaps, feeling somewhat nostalgic for her days in the Caribbean. There, she'd been a goddess among goddesses, and the recent happenings in town had just kindled that desire for veneration, adulation, and the limitless and gorge-greed glut of idolatry.

But none of this led her to the diner on the bad side of town at midnight, the place a crush of children out too late and men and women up to no good. No, this was merely meant to be a greeting. Surely there was enough soul to be had in this town for two of them, and Nel rather trusted the untrustworthy nature of her own kind over the beatification of thunder gods and fecund goddess.

She was seated at the counter, and her coat was draped along the back of the tall chair she occupied. She ordered a coffee, black, and she thanked the waitress with a smile that drew up sharp cheekbones. The smile was small, but it made the waitress blush, and Nel took a sip from her coffee and accepted the slice of apple pie given to her in wholesome offering.