"I like Yeats alright," Death observed. She was remarkably calm, her smile reassuring. She approached the table wearing all black and with her pale complexion she had a monochromatic quality to her, too real to be unnatural.
She held in one hand a cardboard drink holder and in the other balanced two plates of food. She set the drinks down first, then the plats, then took a seat across from The City's newest resident.
"I wasn't sure what you'd like," she shrugged. Though there was plenty for two, it turned out all the food was for him. Coffee, Chai Tea, a plate of smoked salmon quiche, and perfectly round balls of various chocolate truffles.
"The chocolate is really expensive here, but I'm told it's worth it. You hanging in there, Errol?"