Impossible, perhaps? Maybe if Death were a more noticeable presence, Matthias would’ve looked up at the intruder then gone into a rage over having to start over with his counting. Perhaps it was best for the demon that he was so highly focused and his visitor was so unassuming.

And inhuman visitor. Something that wasn’t like him, something that was a force of nature. Something old and patient. It was certainly saying something when Matthias acknowledged something as old. But it was all in the back of his mind, focus laser sharp on moving each individual cereal flake to indicate it was counted.

The thing about Matthias, though he was an endlessly hungering creature made of greed, he didn’t enjoy killing his victims. They could live without guilt. He never took it from them completely – it didn’t behoove him to have the world filled with psychos who didn’t feel remorse, regret, and that delicious guilt. He’d starve if they didn’t feel bad over their sins.

But sometimes, yes, they died. After he wrung everything he could from them, after he played whatever part they wanted to make himself an integral part of their lives, then vanished without warning. After he made his promises (lies), ruined the things they loved so that they would forever remind them of him, after he grew bored of them… Yes, sometimes they didn’t want to live anymore, but was that really on him?

That sounds like a them problem, not a Matthias problem.

Once all the Frosted Flakes were scooted to one side, Matthias heaved a small sigh and craned his neck in an almost birdlike fashion to stare up at the intruder. There was no surprise at seeing him there. But no recognition either. Death wasn’t a thing that could touch him. Not naturally, anyway. Not without Divine intervention. So why would he recognize it when it stood before him?

“What do you want?”