Re: [B&B: Nish & Atticus & Aiden, entrance]
Watched as Nishka went, and watched as James went with her.
Then, Atticus stepped into the center of the room. Saw the man there now. Younger than he expected from someone who would come to collect a woman as old as Gladys. Looked at the woman on the bed first; didn't look at the man. The wolf inside the man lifted its head, snarled a low and warning snarl in Atticus' mind. Wary. Distrusting. At least it wasn't as bad as with Janus. Apparently reapers were better than demons. Maybe it was the fact that the wolf was accustomed to the dead and the dying and everything that surrounded them. Maybe it was that Atticus was comfortable around these things. Questionable, but Atticus wasn't the type of man to overthink things. Never had been the type of man to overthink things.
Sat at the foot of the bed, near Gladys' feet. Didn't mind the corpse. His dead hovered around in the state they'd been in at the moment of their deaths. By comparison, Gladys looked wonderful, aged and at peace. The little girl at Atticus' knee - she'd just walked into the room with her bear clung tight to a dress that had a pink sash and bow at the waist - had half of her face burned off. Gladys was beautiful.
"Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming 'Wow! What a Ride!,'" he quoted, dark gaze fixed on his 'nearly' living companion in the room. Atticus was in his 40s, frumpy of dress and ill-looking, but his gaze was unwavering. Beat. "When did you die?" Assumption, but one he thought was a good guess.