“Self-pity won’t do you any good,” a frank voice mused from the backseat of my battered old Honda. I glanced up in the rear-view mirror and into the Onyx eyes of Death, but for a reason unknown to me, I wasn’t the least bit scared.
“You wouldn’t be annoyed?” I queried with a raised brow, focusing my attention once again on the road although the traffic was barely moving. I took the chance to take a long look at the superhuman being sitting just feet away from me. His skin was dark and from what I could see, covered in tally marks. He was wearing a grey pin-striped suit, a white shirt and a black tie. I had to admit, Death sure looked good.
“Thank you,” he smirked before clearing his throat and readjusting his tie. “I happen to know Italian, if that helps.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenged.
"Perche dovrei mentirti bellezza?" The Italian blew effortlessly from his lips and I almost laughed. Death just called me beautiful.
"Non lo so, dimmelo te, bello." I replied with a wink, using what little Italian I had picked up from the free app on my phone, although I was almost positive it was complete and utter bullshit.
I called Death, handsome. I was totally going to heaven.
He chuckled a deep, haunting laugh and I was instantly snapped back to reality. No more flirting with Death. “So tell me,” Death began, “you want to die.”
“That’s not a question."