Welcome to Gaia! ::

Two thousand was nothing at all compared to the life he'd had. He spent two thousand on a single outfit, without qualms once upon a time. But right now that amount looked better by a significant margin than the pittance he was living on. It wasn't the only draw either, the real factor that had him interested was the implied difficulty of the task in question. If their supernatural enemies could be fooled the same way other humans all his life had been fooled he could really begin to get somewhere special in his life here. He didn't see a horrible outpost scenario and potential death, he saw a ladder of ambition with skills he could apply readily elsewhere. Maybe somewhere down the line the horsemen themselves might have a more lucrative offer for him. It never hurt to keep options open.

"There is no question I can reach the desired weight if I choose to. I am nothing if not malleable. I am not my present weight by anything resembling a mistake and I do not impulse eat."

He shot Taym a sidelong look, his expression still utterly blank. "But if the prospect of difficulty or boredom is too much to cope with. I can do so alone. I do not want for company."

Jane nodded, "I understand the concern, but it's not a sit and wait. You're Death, and while the leadership doesn't always utilize the skillset of our division, this particular ongoing mission does." She smiled encouragingly, "What you'd be doing involves tracking and observation mostly. The desert is riddled with old Famine nests and their experiments. There's also new ones being created by those horsemen who did not settle in Halloween. Information on these locations and any patterns is vital and can be quite fascinating. Currently we hold the authority on the Sahara, but Life has been making a push to take over the mission."

She raised her eyebrows, "It's not something we plan to allow, so you will be earning that pay."

The fight went out of him again, just as instantly as it had arrived. Further protest would entail acknowledging--both to her and to himself--that he was only panicking at the idea of the change of scenery and the nebulous threat of being alone with his thoughts. It wasn't the idea of the physical hardship or the potential for pain or even the threat of the Horsemen themselves--Taym had not yet encountered them; he had no concept of the true terror of them--but the vague, unfounded fear of downtime. Of long travel times without a distraction.

(Of nowhere to hide on the nights that he needed to succumb to a childish, humiliating urge to cry.)

He didn't echo Lawrence's acquiescence, but he didn't need to: the sudden, exhausted lack of protest was enough.

Taym had only vaguely recognized Lawrence from the Death meeting--a face that had been present but to which he failed to attach any solid memories--and at the word Jan he glanced at him, eyebrows climbing. Not immune to the growing tension, he occupied his hands by gnawing on a thumbnail and watching "Jan" and Jane over the top of it, Stephen totally disregarded.

The man's daughter was dead. He wasn't sure whether to pity him and step in; wasn't sure whether Lawrence's cold disregard for anything but business and the matter of his alias was a rigid coping mechanism for grief or a good reason for the fact that Taym's skin crawled every time he spoke. Maybe he should speak up, just in case it was the former. A single glance at Jane and he decided against it.

"You're welcome," Jane replied warmly. "Remember this isn't some run and gun, please take the time to research the area. Also it would be wise to brush up on your entomology and botany. Noticing irregularities in plant and insect life are vital when dealing with Famine lands. That's all for now, I won't require another meeting until the end of March, and only then if you're chosen, so do your best."

It was a clear dismissal.