His eyes wander slowly over to the man kneeling at his side. The worry and confusion creasing his face pulls at the shinigami slightly, forcing his thoughts away from the darkness. Closing his eyes he lets out a gentle sigh as he turns towards the food laid out before them. [i]'I know it's his job, but the worry is somehow comforting'[/i] Picking up his chopsticks he motions towards the dishes set out for the young man before he opens his eyes and pulls the meat dishes towards him. He's silent for a little while, just looking at the food he prepared so carefully, with all his concentration and skill. His eyes travel once around the room to all the happy and curious faces as they sample the unusual dishes and send him smiles when they notice him looking. [i]'I did my best, and no one lost anything. It's a good feeling'[/i] Casting a glance back at Shigetoshi ha manages a brief smile, but it's gone swiftly as the weight of his up coming task begins nagging at him.

Without really thinking he begins talking in a low voice only the Innkeeper is able to hear. “I am as well as can be expected in my line of work. Not all of us share the same love of the people we work with during each job, but a lot of us get rather depressed over time. Some of us grow distant, or callous, or even worse, begin getting a kind of sick pleasure from the work.” Keeping his eyes on his food he eats slowly. “ I've traveled the world over, a few times, and for the most part I am happy with what I do, but. . . .Sometimes. . . .It's so hard.” Setting down his chopsticks he picks up his large cutlet and dips it in the red sauce he'd prepared. His eyes wander about the room, looking past the people to their souls. His eyes flash slightly when he does so, but he doesn't notice.

Looking back to his breaded meat he takes a bite and sets it aside. Licking the remaining crumbs from his fingers he picks up his chopsticks again. “Once, in the far west, I worked with a man with a large family. He lived in a large old house, stone, but very finely made. As the years passed, they had added new wings as the family grew. Each wing was different, furnished how that particular era saw was best. Large tapestries in the main hall with old coats of arm on them, flowers in vases in alcoves along the walls.” His voice grows distant as he draws the images up before him as only shinigami can. “He was old, close to the end of him time, but still he would visit each wing once a day to make sure the flowers were fresh, and the dogs had not causes too much of a mess in the night. The children would all greet him with smiles. In the west wing the stain glass windows would cast him in rainbow light making him look so strange, but so peaceful. . .” 

His voice trails off and his gaze returns to the world around him. Looking down at his meal he begins eating slowly again. “He died in that hallway. After one last check, one last look at the family that loved him so much, he just sat down in one of the ornate high back sitting chairs set evenly along the inner wall facing the windows. There was a smile on his lips, so content he was with his life that death held nothing to fear for him. Even in death, the new morning light streaming through the window had made him look so amazing.” Without skipping a beat he turns to look at Shigetoshi. The look in his eyes is honest, and earnest. 

“I see a lot of death Shigetoshi-san, and a lot of my stories from around the world may contain it. I thank you for listening to me, but if you'd rather not hear about all the deaths I've seen, just tell me so. I will do my best to avoid the subject. I just want you to know that when I seem to pass from one state of mind to another it isn't your fault and you shouldn't feel responsible. I won't you to understand that I just shift moods from time to time when certain things remind me of things I'd rather not think about at the moment.” He manages to pull an honest smile as he turns back to his food. “I know it's in your job description to make the guest comfortable and happy, but I would rather your listening to my tales be something you like to do personally rather than as a duty, so if parts bother you, tell me and I will adjust.” With that he scoops up a large portion of noodles and puts it in his mouth to avoid talking the man's ear off.