Bro, I'm not an Undead!

"It\'s nothing too special. I just didn\'t realise the past can make you feel like this. Wait. Maybe I did and I had just forgotten," Skullius replied, hiding the remnants of his feelings at the moment.

Silrat sighed exasperatedly and didn\'t even bother to pry.

As time went on, he discovered that most things about Skullius were best left alone. Frankly, he was quite content not knowing everything about him even though they were practically besties in schemes and potentially illegal practices at this point, minor misdemeanours included.

The last six weeks had seen Silrat grow and change to an unfathomable degree, both visually, intellectually and hierarchically.

In the visual department, his crushed garnet coloured hair had been cut to become shorter and much, much more elegant. The gel that was applied to it, refining it into the shape of a solid modern quiff was the cherry on top as it complemented his physique which had switched from the usual gaunt lankiness to a more robust, I-don\'t-hate-my-life frame.

Appearances.

That was something Silrat had learned after he successfully graduated from being a mere scout to a Supervising Overseer a week ago due to his tremendous contributions in the Association. Of course, this advice didn\'t come from his always preoccupied consciousness or through a divine dream. It came from the wise mouth of Alaris who told him to look the part of the job he had.

Supervising Overseers always looked and acted sharp.

If Silrat was going to own the title, he had to look it first. From the sword master\'s perspective, Silrat had the brain and mouth for it but his presence had been lacking.

Now, after all the work he had to do to transform himself â€" mostly eating, exercising and getting enough sleep â€" Silrat now had a face that Skullius could respect. The Hybrid Luman had bluntly said that statement to the former Association Branch Head. Face to face, word for word.

Silrat\'s focused grey eyes settled on Skullius once again after his tangential thought into the don\'ts involved with dealing with Skullius.

"So, everything is set?" he asked.

"Yes. Stylla says she won\'t come though," Skullius replied.

"I thought as much. She is breaking down more and more by the day. I fear she can\'t endure anymore than this. We\'ll have to do something about it. Strictly sticking in the lane of business, we need a Bryne if we are going to conduct business with other Families," Silrat stressed.

"Are you good at therapy?"

"Not the mental kind. Well, it depends on how you look at it but any man can give \'therapy.\'

"....Snake in the crevice?"

"Snake in the crevice."

The two men sighed, Skullius moreso at this concept that he was clearly equipped for, shockingly. He literally had the tools for it. He had seen Silrat engage in it from time to time but wasn\'t really interested himself. Not yet, anyway.

As it turned out, Skullius discovered more about how... human, Silrat was as they grew more comfortable with each other the past six weeks â€" courtesy of the long sailed away UNCoddled. Outside of business and serious issues concerning both their livelihoods, one more than the other, they had never actually been that casual with each other.

The tension had lessened.

Just now when Silrat had interrupted Skullius\' digestion of the trip he had just come from â€" through space and time to land conveniently where he wanted, where everything up to the moment he felt the largest connection to in Deadmanland progressed â€" he had half expected the refined Supervising Overseer to invite him for a drink... again.

Truthfully, because of the sporadic visits to the taverns that Silrat usually took because of mild amounts of stress, Skullius was beginning to enjoy the burning liquid torture that slid like lava down his throat. For him it was more like a sour drink though.

Sadly... this visit was all in the name of business.

No party invites.

"The meeting place is the Estate, right?" Silrat asked.

"Sure," Skullius replied.

Silrat frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"That\'s what I said! Unfortunately, Stylla decided to be vague."

Silrat sighed again, exasperatedly this time.

"She\'s depressed not stupid so we can hope she arranged everything right. By the way, did you already go the Association with the mission evidence?"

"Not yet."

"Great! Give it to me."

"Why?"

"Why else? I\'m going to haggle for the corpses and earn pretty Plasma coin. In future, I feel you should be banned from any and all money-related transactions. Your skills at handling coin are surprisingly atrocious."

"Hey, I... You know what? Fine," Skullius surrendered the spatial storage ring where he had stored the many corpses he had collected from the Clusters he had raided over the past day and a half.

Silrat checked them all and glanced at Skullius strangely.

"You know, you always find the strangest things? You found goblins in a Cluster?" he asked.

"Are they uncommon?"

"As far I know, I haven\'t read about goblins in Clusters. Not that I\'m that reliable as a researcher of such things anyway. Leave it to you to confirm such useless things for me."

"Uh... Thanks? Is there anything else we have to think about with all this boring stuff. How about that drink?"

"I didn\'t ask to go for a drink?"

"Right. Well, you do that so often that I thought you did ask me moments ago?" Skullius said while resting his back on the bed.

Silrat sighed for the umpteenth time.

"We\'ll have to discuss the specifics tomorrow morning before the transportation to the Venue. If Stylla is still with her father..." Silrat ended the sentence with a grimace.

"I know. You\'re right. Best to leave it to tomorrow. For now..." Skullius said, dragging out the end of his own sentence while turning to Silrat with subdued alcoholic suggestions spinning in his blank eyes.

The former Association Branch Head slapped his face.

"Fine, fine. Let\'s go get the damn drink!" he barked as he stood, Skullius following enthusiastically after him.