Neutral Omens

Pestilence looked up sadly from his desk, an array of physical therapy books opened on top. He quirked up one corner of his mouth, a gaspy, insincere laugh escaping between thin lips. "No. Not so much as an inquiry." He put a hand to his head, sincerely regretting his personal standards for trying out each of his illnesses himself. His latest passion for emotional disorders was wearing him down. He turned pale grey eyes to the young anti-christ. "You're supposed to know pretty much everything, right kid? Well tell me, what is this all about? I mean, I exist as an idea. A scourge on humanity. Its my job and I have done it for ages, and aside from one minor lapse, I have done my job damn well. Why am I..." Pestilence paused and swallowed, looking at the strange expression on the young man's face as it peeked around his doorframe. Pestilence sighed and looked away. "Nevermind, kid. This..." he indicated to himself, "...is before your time. Its not your problem. Thanks for stopping by, though, I appreciate it."