Twenty thousand dollars. Bad idea. Twenty thousand dollars. Really bad idea. No matter how she put it, the money kept winning. George wasn't sure why. She would have never considered herself a terribly greedy person.
The reaper liked to think of it as being realistic. This was the only shot she was ever going to have at almost real employment. Who wanted to work a crap job for the rest of their unlife? Crap jobs could last a really long time. Rube wouldn't understand being independently wealthy. And the idea of picking off the dead like Mason, Betty and Daisy had never really appealed to her.
"I don't know about fun. Just... when can I start?" George tried to perk up like a pleasant employee.