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“Well, it’s too fucking late, isn’t it?” I huff. “Plus, I still had bills to pay!”

He glances at his watch with a bored look. “On that note, I have work to get back to. These dead bodies aren’t going to cut themselves.”

“Look, I need your help,” I say, with an added wobble to my voice and some tears for a flare.

“No,” he replies flatly.

Damn, he’s cold.

“Please.”

I’ve stooped to begging.

Me.

So unbecoming.

But I’m desperate.

“Nope.”

“But—”

He cuts me off. “Listen, I know my job might seem boring or weird, but I enjoy this job. This job brings joy to my life. This job makes it so I don’t have to talk to people or end up in weird situations like the one you are in. Then at the end of the day, I get to leave this job and go home to my leftovers and enjoy an episode of my favorite TV Show. So no. I will not leave this job to go help you on Halloween, the day where the weirdest shit happens.” He gestures to my body. “Exhibit A.”

“Are you from New Orleans?” I ask, completely ignoring his useless monologue about his job.

He exhales through his nose. “Kind of.”

“So you are familiar with the area then?”

“I guess so.”

“What’s up with all these vague answers?”

“What if you’re making this all up and are actually crazy?”

“I’m not making this up.”

“You didn’t deny that you're not crazy.”

“Well cause the jury is still out on that one.”

I glance at the clock on the wall.

A quarter past eight.

My stomach drops.

“I have less than sixteen hours to find this witch and I need someone who knows the area.”

“Still no. I don’t help strangers. Self-preservation and all.”

“We are not strangers.” I throw my hands up. “You’ve seen me naked.”

“In a professional manner,” he says. “You were dead. It would be completely inappropriate otherwise.”

“What's your name?” I ask. I need to make this personable. Hopefully, I can make him empathic towards my situation.