Curmudgeonly & Skeptical

"It was the light that first caught Uday Hussein's attention. There were no light fixtures to be seen and yet the illumination in the opulently appointed office was bright and steady. He shifted in his chair and focused his eyes on the wiry man with dark, slicked-back hair sitting behind the blonde oak desk. The stranger was gingerly tapping an index finger on the keys of a laptop, his eyeglasses having slipped down on his nose to give him an aura of total concentration. His skin was a bright pink, like someone who'd fallen asleep in the sun but, of course, there was no sun down here.

"Well, at least you two don't seem surprised," the stranger said, speaking a bit too loudly and startling his guests. "I hate it when people who end up here act as if they're in shock about their destination. And after the lives they've led; boggles the mind. Don't get me wrong: being in denial is great, it's one of the ways I get so many souls, but leave it up in the world: I just don't have time for it."

"Neither of the Husseins looked the least bit surprised. Qusay, in fact, had no expression at all on his face. ... "