“So, you’re saying, I just have to watch over her?” The man, after just experiencing his own death then finding out that he wasn’t going to be moving on, was a bit disappointed in this new development.
“Yes.” The boy said, glancing at his watch. “So you’ll do it?”
“Yeah, sure. I mean, what’s my other choice? Drift through the world yelling ‘boo’ at strangers? But, what does “watch over” even mean?”
The two made an interesting scene, in the middle of the forest. A clean-shaven boy with short hair fidgeting, and a tall, wide, shaggy man rubbing at the growth on his face.
The boy cocked his head to the side, “It means, you watch over her.”
“Thanks, Sherlock. So, I just stand there all day, staring at her?” His voice rose with his frustration. He’d already said yes, it wasn’t like he could back out now.
“That’s one way to go about it. And, you know, trying to make sure nothing kills or maims her.” He had a place he’d been waiting ages to get to, and this man was too dense for his tastes. His charge had been quick-witted and he had made a game of seeing who could solve her questions first.
God, he was going to miss her. Too bad he wanted to move on more.
“So, what, I get to be a poltergeist and move things around?” The man pantomimed knocking something over.
“Basically, until you fulfill your contract.” The boy then turned tail and ran. He was getting close to telling him too much, then he’d be stuck with a different charge. Again.
“Wait!” The man bellowed, “you didn’t say anything about fulfilling the contract! Is that why I’m here!” Damn it. Why didn’t he get a book of instructions, instead of some punk kid? He switched from scrubbing at his beard to his eyes.
When his hands moved away, he wasn’t standing in a forest anymore. He was staring at a woman singing, badly, some pop song at the top of her lungs while cooking.