Of all the gods only death does not desire gifts.

distance (makes the mind grow colder)

  With a silent yawn, Kyungsoo watches as the reaper disappears to somewhere he’ll probably never get to see and decides to busy himself by seeing how many times he can volley a discarded aluminum can with his foot. It’s a trick he’d learned while travelling through South America, meeting up with other kids his age (well, whatever age he’s been stuck at for two centuries) who discovered rather pragmatic ways to stay entertained. He used to be so terrible at the games they played—so terrible that they called him stupid names in their native language. It was all in good fun though, because eventually Kyungsoo managed to be the best at all their games. By the time he reaches twenty-seven volleys, the stranger re-appears with his hands stuffed in his pockets and that detached look in his eyes that all reapers seem to have. Still kicking the can, the shorter male answers, “Well, yeah, I guess. Like I said, I’m not busy. Unless you start bitchin’ at me—which I doubt you will, Mr Manners—I’m just gonna tag along for fun.” Sparing the stranger a half-smile, Kyungsoo kicks the can with the toe of his shoe, shooting it straight into a nearby trash bin, which elicits from the boy a victorious ‘hah.’ 

Jongin felt the side of his nose scrunch up in slight awkwardness, and he removed a hand from his pocket to scratch the back of his head while his eyes looked around the rainy perimeter. He had hoped the pour would stop sometime soon, but had found that nature wasn't exactly something he nor the others had control of. He really had no complaints with the immortal acquaintance, and he also honestly didn't think that the male would stick around for very long anyhow. Reapers didn't' lead the most exciting lives, actually probably one of the most boring out there. "If it's fun you're searching for, I'm afraid you've found the wrong person." He lets off a shake of his head as the aluminum an made a well-known clang against the trash bin. He'd been volleying it for a while and if Jongin hadn't seen it previous times before, he would have certainly been tempted to watch and see how long he could go without messing up. A sigh managed to slip unconsciously, and he attempted to find something that could entertain the other even slightly. Jongin didn't know much about "fun". Not that it was a foreign concept, but he'd always chosen his duties over having a good time, which eventually led to his current predicament. Just what would he do to entertain the other? "What exactly do you find fun then?" His blank expression deepened into a concerned frown. Thinking back, apparently causing chaos happened to be an interest of the latter, and Jongin had no intention of causing any trouble. If it led to it, he'd have to leave on his own. It was a curiosity as to just how far could he get from the immortal?

  "Well, that’s all the same thing—sending and guiding. Right? You’re still the one takin’ him there," he replies with a small shrug, honestly seeing very little difference in terminology. A reaper he’d met once told him that people should be kind to Death, for he would be their last friend when everyone else had gone. The saying, of course, held little significance to Kyungsoo, who had set himself on fire and shot himself in the face (among many other creative attempts at suicide) one too many times, but he supposes the reaper spoke some truth. Following the other male into an alley, he finds himself staring at an obviously dead man lying against a brick wall, and the pale-skinned male’s expression completely unperturbed. He’s seen worse—much worse. Hell, most of the time, he was the one causing it all. But there were certainly instances in which war and general unrest within a state caused the mass murder of thousands, sometimes millions of citisens, and Kyungsoo’s sure that those deaths are more terrible than any he’s caused, either to others or to himself. (Not that he really succeeded when he tried to kill himself, but he admits every attempt was rather gruesome.) When the reaper turns to speak to him again, the slighter male gives a slight roll of the eyes and a short shrug. "Yeah, sure, I’m not goin’ anywhere. Don’t have anything to do for the next few hours anyway," he answers with all the ease in the world. "Just don’t take too long. I bet that guy can’t wait to find out where’s he’s headed."

Jongin could only frown at the statement. It was a common misconception that as a reaper he directed people to their final destination. That was the time keeper's job. Not his. He merely brought them to the hall, and even then, they went through two others. Literally, he was simply a guide, nothing more. It may not have seemed like a difficult task, but there were things that had to be taken seriously. Nearing the lifeless body, he squatted next to their torso, closing his eyes as he pressed a finger to his temple, and so was the escort. Despite the rain, he disappeared in an air of black and white smoke that resembled sand. He hadn't expected it to take long--it never did--and he didn't want to keep his "companion" waiting. He made the visit short and brief, though he worried over leaving the male in the hall alone. He was bound to touch something...and sentence himself a lifetime in Ameno. Still, he ended his concern with a shrug. It wasn't his concern what the male did with his life, and the moment that the tip of his finger had touched the males' forehead, he knew he would end there anyway. Sighing, the hall soon left his surroundings, and he returned to the same alleyway, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he approached the immortal that he'd left waiting. "Do you plan to follow me for your next few hours?"

  Typical response, the slighter male thinks to himself. Death’s little helpers always had a propensity towards sullen attitudes for some bizarre reason that Kyungsoo will never understand, having never had the luxury of experiencing the end of his own life. He’s had a couple run-in’s with the Boss (as his underlings seem to call him) on a rather personal level, but he’s never been able to convince the guy to let him join everyone else on that darker plane of the universe. It would probably help a little if Death knew how to cross his name off the list. “Wow, what a hardass,” the pale-skinned boy mutters under his breath, though his eyes are somewhat amused. He’s almost missed that idiotic iciness that’s present in reapers—almost. He’s about to mention something about how he really doesn’t give half a shit about who he sits next to on a random bench, but his lips remained sealed when the stranger stands up and walks over to where he’d set off a firecracker earlier. Shrugging, Kyungsoo stands up and tucks his hands into his pockets before following the other male, because he honestly has nothing else to do for the next few hours. “You gonna pick ‘im up, or are y’just gonna let him suffer a little before sendin’ him home?” he asks after falling into step at the reaper’s side, with all the tact in the world. Had he been a regular human, Kyungsoo would have been (maybe) a bit more cautious around this harbinger of death—but he’s not, so he acts with all the boldness of an immortal who’s more or less accepted his fate (or lack thereof).

His hands immediately found their ways into his pockets though he paid no heed to the rain. He had heard the former's quiet expression, but it bothered him minimally. "I don't send him anywhere. Merely guide him." The reply was curt, and possibly rude sounding. Not that he'd tried to be, he was simply telling the truth. Judges made the decision of saving or taking lives. He'd figured that the judges had finished their own job now, and he was left to continue his own duty, as usual. It wasn't that he dislike his job. Not at all. It was simply perfunctory. Rarely did he ever come across an unusual sighting, and when he did, it didn't last much longer than the usual. It was a bit of a surprise that his lovely new friend had decided to give him company. First he smelt bad, then he was a...what had he said? Hardass. Just what person remained in company of someone they disliked so much? It was a mystery that Jongin found too unimportant to answer. He turned the corner of the alley, seeing a man lying motionlessly against the reddened brick. His still frame was the first notification that he had passed, and judging from the way he was dressed--tattered clothing, dirt stained cheeks--he had no family. Just a glance and Jongin could practically see the male's past. He was born poor and though he tried, he never made it much higher. A gambling problem, it seemed.  In essence, there was no need for the waiting period. He could just escort him to the Judgement hall. Just as he meant to do so, Jongin returned his attention to the male he'd almost forgotten had followed him. "It seems you won't be leaving anytime soon. Do you mind waiting?"