The Reaper followed Death as he made his way down the hall and into the bathroom. It was only after Death snapped the bathroom door closed did the Reaper speak up again. “My Lord, you don't seem to be in a good mindset.” 

“You think?” Death snarled back at the Reaper who responded by staring at him blankly. He sighed a moment before turning to the sink and running the injured hand under cool water. “I'm sorry,” he hissed as the cool water burned against the markings. “I'm having a really hard time right now. I know you Reapers can feel like. The world is teetering on the brink of disaster.” He pulled his hand out from under the water and viewed it closely. The sides of the wound seemed to have a particular texture to it, almost like sun-baked clay that would crumble away at any moment. He probed it gently with his other hand and sighed in relief when none of the skin crumbled away. He flexed his hand a few times before getting a small rag out of the linen closet and drying his hands off. He grimaced at the discomfort the contact to the marking brought. He really hoped that the pain wouldn't be permanent. He would hate to have to worry about bumping his hand into anything all the time. 

“My Lord, the world is not shattered just yet. You will find a way to fix this. You have always found a path forward in harsh times.” Death gave a small snort before he ran his hand through his hair. He grumbled something about finding a way before peering at himself in the mirror. He looked exhausted. His face was pale and sunken in. His hair was greasy and he looked like he hadn't showered in days, which wasn't false. He didn't exactly get access to a bathroom while he was locked up in that cage. Maybe a shower would do his soul some good. 

Thirty minutes later, Death stepped out of the bathroom, drying his wet hair with a towel and wearing his old clothes from before. He seemed to be in a much better mood as he left the steamy bathroom with the Reaper in tow. He stepped into the kitchen area, peering around for Kaia. He gave her only a momentary glace before his eyes found the cold pizza. He slung the towel around his shoulders and walked over to the pizza box. He grabbed himself a slice before heading back into front room and taking a seat. He took a bite of the pizza before speaking with food still in his mouth. 

“I'm sorry.” He chewed and swallowed before he continued. “I can feel the pressure of the world pressing down on me and I kind of lost it. I'm sorry.”