Mason wasn't Zod. He never had been. But that didn't mean that he was a normal person. After all, he died back in 1966 and had been helping souls to the afterlife ever since then, as was the job of all the grim reapers until they'd reached their unknown number of souls and finally got to move on themselves. God, Mason looked forward to getting to finally move on. But being stuck somewhere where he wasn't being handed post-its with a name, address, and time on them? That was really slowing down the number of souls he snagged, which was in turn slowing down his own moving on, even though he had no way of knowing when that would happen anyway.
The apartment wasn't his, nor did it belong to anyone that he'd ever met. He had just checked out the obituary portion of the local paper shortly after showing up to find out who died lately, then figured out a place to stay from there. On the one hand, he did pretty good. This place wouldn't stay empty long because it was actually on the nice side of the apartments of Lawrence, but the down side? The previous resident, Mason had learned through snooping through the belongings, had been in AA. Meaning there was no liquor whatsoever in the building. So he had to use some of his own money, carefully tucked into his wallet from that jerkoff Cameron's funds, to pop on down to the closest liquor store and pick something up for himself.
He had only been on his third swig from the bottle when he heard something snap on the window in the next room. Bottle still in hand, Mason made his way back out to the living room only to find a... really hot blond woman climbing through his window. He was sure that there was no fire escape outside that room, so that was extra strange. "How the fuck did you get up this high?" he asked loudly, his London accent still thick after all these years. The fact that Mason had broken into the apartment himself sort of made him less bothered by the fact that someone else was breaking in than most people would have been.