[B&B: Nish & Atticus & Aiden, entrance]
He'd spent his afternoon at a hospital's oncology ward, coloring with a five year old who wouldn't make it. Definitely. Desperately. While the kid’s mother was passed out in one of the uncomfortable looking visitor chairs, it had obviously been a rough night, the child's health steadily declining, they sat in comfortable silence, filling pages with doodles as well as ancient runes and sigils, which were mostly Aiden's doing. Chicken scratch writing and stick figures. Initially he had been there to take a middle-aged man dying of a myocardial infarction, while yelling at his wife at the top of his equally falling lungs, but the bastard took his time until the Reaper was almost tempted to fiddle with the many machines keeping the life inside the man's body, just to make him stop flinging insults. The child had fallen asleep at some point, after coloring in half of the tattoos on Aiden's arm in about every color marker he could find and the man had coded shortly thereafter. Not the greatest loss for humanity.
It was a tingling sensation, starting in his fingertips and slowly spreading, that drew him back to Repose and the B&B, another one on his list ready to leave. The moment he stepped foot into the building he felt his consciousness tentatively coil around every soul within the walls, corporal or not, taking stock and names. While the living, breathing bodies would not feel a thing, maybe a tiny itch or shudder, the disembodied could sense him like he did them, sending them into a fit of panic almost instantly. It went through the house like a tidal wave, enveloping their minds within seconds. They recognized him for what he was just as he felt them in every blood cell, the beast in his bones stirring.
Within the blink of an eye the ghosts had scattered, leaving the path to the room with the door numbered '1' empty for him. No early wake for Gladys, just eternal rest or another pretty euphemism thrown around to soothe the masses. Her door was unlocked and she welcomed him like an old friend, all smiles as he held her wrinkly hand in his, skin peppered with age spots against his dark ink. With the flick of a hand and a few spots of blood another life was over, another soul sent on, destination unknown. Business as usual, except for the restless spirits hiding in the darkest corners of the house, furthest away from him, anxious air permeating every room.