And now he's there and oops what's on the board...

"Hi, can I just get–uh, sorry–"

He glances up at the back wall.

"...the peppermint cold brew thing?"

C'mon, Z. Way to be that guy.

"Sure!"

Oh no, now he's smiling. Whatever shall Z do.

"Name?"

Well that's a great way to make Z forget his own name.

"Uh–"

Real name sucks, Z's weird, he can't give this guy a fake name because he hasn't thought of any good ones because he was staring at his face in line the whole time–

"Kai-zi."

...he did not just give cute counter dude his space name.

"Pretty!" says cute counter dude. "You got it."

Peppermint proceeds. The cup that Z receives has his space name spelled correctly on it, and a minor thermostatic enchantment to keep it cool against the rising summer heat. The enchantment was not advertised and might just be the cute counter dude being a sweetheart; it's subtle, hard to notice unless you're paying close attention to the way the cup stays chilly in defiance of its surroundings.

...aww? That’s sweet as hell.

Shame hitting on somebody while they’re at work is creepy, and also that he already fucked up big time by giving him his space name.

He gives him one last appreciative look, puts altogether too much half-and-half in his coffee and walks out the door, expecting never to see the guy again.

Six months later, he’s walking home at night when a car comes very fast from the wrong direction.

It’s gruesome, but he barely even feels it.

Much ink has been spilled on the question of what death is like. There's a fairly strong consensus that something happens to you besides total dissolution, because demons are known to hoard the souls of the dead. But what's being a soul like? Nobody who hasn't died is really sure, and no one who has died is available for comment.

Death turns out to be... kind of boring. A little bit like waking up slowly on a lazy morning when you don't have anything to get up for, and lying there in a comfortable half-doze without ever quite gathering the energy to come fully awake or being quite tired enough to fall back asleep. Except you don't have a body, or any sense of time at all, or a means of differentiating one moment from the next, so you have no way of telling how long you spend like this before you finally reemerge into reality.

He's stretched out on the softest sheets and most comfortable mattress this world has ever seen, under a similarly extravagant blanket, in a quiet room whose lights are dim and gentle against his newly minted eyelids. Nothing hurts and all his pieces are in the right places.

...blink.

Okay. He’s...pretty sure he just got hit by a car. It happened pretty fast but he was crossing the street, it was night time, there was an impact and suddenly the world was flying around which means he was flying around...

...how did he get here.

This definitely isn’t a hospital. And he thinks...he thinks he just got done not being alive?

He definitely hasn’t talked enough to demons for one to have his soul.

Right?

Traditionally it's supposed to be really obvious whether or not at any given moment you are talking to a demon! They've got an oppressive infernal aura, and claws or fangs or horns or wings or a tail or unnatural coloration or, generally, the look of a thing that was made according to the same broad template as humans but took a lot of liberties with the details.

The man who steps into Z's field of view has none of these attributes. But his face might be familiar, or his strikingly sweet smile.

"I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," he says. "What happened?"

(The room is very round; its white walls curve smoothly into a domed white ceiling, with a glowing white globe hanging from its apex, not quite centered above the bed. It doesn't quite have the air of a hospital room, but it's not exactly in the traditional vein of a bedroom either. Sort of in-between.)

Uh.

Why is cute coffee guy who he gave his space name here—

[✓] “I wasn’t expecting you to see you again so soon.”

[✓] Showed up after death.

[✓] Got your name.

[✓] Casual magic.

TOTAL: 4

YOUR RESULT WAS: Fuuuuuuuuck.

“I, uh...I got hit by a car. I think.”

"Condolences," he says. "You can call me Eden. Or anything else you like, of course—how much do you know about demonology?"

“I...read about it on the internet sometimes?”

This is probably really bad, isn’t it.

"Well. You're here because we met in that coffee shop. You gave me something to call you, so now that name serves as my link to your soul. I'm here because ever since I figured out the secret to passing for human, I've been much happier on Earth than in Hell. It's mildly convenient for demons if mortals name us—it gives us something we can safely go by among other demons—but I've already got a collection of those so you don't need to feel like you should be obliged to deny me the benefit of another one."

"So...we're on Earth now? And not in Hell?"

This is totally the question he should be asking right now.

"Mmhmm!" he confirms. "I've been here for centuries, I hardly ever go home anymore. You can tell we're not in Hell because you're not surrounded by infernal energy; it makes itself pretty unmistakeable if you're paying attention. Also, computers still work. Did you know computers don't work in Hell? It's terrible."

"Sounds pretty...hellish."

Hahahaha oh god what's gonna happen to him.

He giggles.

...aww, that's cute.

Maybe everything's gonna be fine.

"Did I actually die?"

"Yes, or I wouldn't have been able to resurrect you."

"...being dead kind of sucked."

"I've heard it's boring."

"It's kind of like that feeling when you're falling asleep in class and you're not super committed to taking notes or anything but your hand kinda keeps moving on its own? Except you don't have hands and it's forever."

"What a vivid description. Death for demons isn't nearly so much fun; I've done it a few times and I hope never to repeat the experience again."

"I didn't know demons could die."