“Still haunted by dreams? A small price to pay for what you experienced and yet you survived. And that is precisely why I am here. Where is your brother? Will he make a grand entrance soon or can we speak frankly?”

“Wrong? Why would you think that? Is it because I am Death and yet I humbled myself to find you and eventually your brother in these types of establishments?”

Keeping his eyes on Sam, he steps closer though his face reveals nothing. -

If only these insignificant creatures would get their acts together and learn to look at the bigger picture.

Instead this one was having recurring dreams of his time in the hellscape. That certainly wouldn’t do.

As a crack of lightning illuminated the room, Death stepped forward.

“Hello Sam.”

He wasn’t known for his patience and already Death could see the small blade tucked into his hands.

“I presume you don’t know who I am so I’ll save you the time of trying to find out and tell you myself. I am Death and you and I? We have things to discuss.”

“You’re not eating. There are starving children in the world and you’re ignoring your meal. That’s rather rude Ivar.”

Wiping his hands on a napkin, he knows it’s time to come clean as to his purpose before Ivar got stabby. +

As he thanks the waitress and she leaves, he calmly takes one of the small plates left behind, takes a napkin and then picks up one of the wings covered in the spicy sauce he so loved.

Dipping it into the dressing, he chews thoughtfully and swallows, secretly pleased at how tasty they were. +

The man was ruthless, wild and I predictable especially for his young age but he was exactly who Death needed.

Their stare off is interrupted briefly by their drinks and food being dropped off. +

As she leaves to place his order, he looks at the young man sitting directly in front of him, a baffled expression on his face.

Death understood it. He understood that people did not just sit in front of Ivar Lothbrok and chat, not even his own brothers. +

Broody. Alert. Eyes constantly moving. He was restless.

trusted no one. Except perhaps…

Walking over, he calmly sits in front of the young man and signals to the waitress.

“Bring us two baskets of the spicy wings and a coke for me and a refill for my friend here. Thank you.” +

He wasn’t wrong but in the eons he’d been on earth, he could admit privately that these types of food were one of the few redeeming qualities humanity had.

He scans the room and immediately sees the man he was seeking. +

He nods in approval as he now knows what he will order. Pizza. Burgers. Soda. Chicken wings. He remembers some pesky human once pointing out his love of greasy American fast food. +

If there was one thing Death enjoyed more than anything, it was fried fast food. Looking at a waitress walking by holding her tray, he zeroes in not only the drinks placed there but the basket of what could only be spicy buffalo wings. +

They had important matters to discuss. Not that the man was aware yet of what Death had in mind. He would know soon enough.
The smell of beer and liquor was an offense to his senses but there was an underlying scent of fried food. +