Zamioculcas sighed, and slumped on his desk, his head in his arms. He had never known such despair, and his almost insane obstinacy was giving way to a dreadful lack of motivation.

Robert was floating around the studio, as forgetful as usual. Zamioculcas had let him exist at first because he had no time to waste on chasing a harmless ghost, and then he couldn’t bring himself to doing anything. What was the point?

"Master," said Sentinel's voice softly. "Some peasants have started investing in the village where we have settled ...”

“I do not care. There is no point in chasing them, what I wanted to do in this village would have taken twice as much time as I have left. "

Silence fell on the studio, lit by a single dying candle. Zamioculcas closed his eyes. He was not sleepy but did not feel capable to light a new candle.

"Decidedly, you'd really have to find a hobby, Mr. Necrosomething," Robert scolded him kindly, lighting a new candle with a snap of his finger.

“Necromancer” ... Zamioculcas muttered.

“I do not know the difference. But you seem to be bored like an undead rat here. "

The wizard did not laugh, which hurt Robert’s feelings, but he decided to say nothing. After all, it was probably what had to be done with that kind of person.

"Do not you have anything you like doing?”

“I do not have time for what I liked doing. You don’t conquer the world in ten years, especially if it is to die a few days afterwards.”

“It's sad to want to spend your life fighting. You do not like ... reading? You must have pretty nifty stories here. The important thing is to have fun.”

“To have fun! Fun is the distraction of the petty, the mediocre! What was “fun” to you, ghost? Picking turnips?”

"I was a drover," Robert said indignantly. “And what amused me was drinking with my friends or teaching the kids in the village how to fish or playing cards with my cousins.”

"I have no friends, no family," Zamioculcas grumbled, "and I do not know how to play cards.”

“It does not surprise me that you do not have many friends if you do not play cards. Come on, I'll teach you, it’ll pass some time. Ten years is a very long time, you know? I'm sure it's been ten years since I died at least.

“Do we not need be more numerous to play cards?”

“I'm sure the lady on the roof will agree to be your teammate."

Zamioculcas hesitated, then looked up at the ceiling of the cellar.

"Sentry!”

“What is it, my master?”

“Do you want to play cards? "

The Sentinel hesitated a moment too, then her deep voice was heard again.

"… Yes, that would be nice.”

“Perfect, we only need one more player then! exclaimed Robert happily. Hey, demon!"

From the tunic of Zamioculcas, hanging on the wall, came the little silhouette of the miniature devil, this time was devoid of monocle or book.

"What is it, dead soul?”

“Do you give us a pack of cards in exchange for three candles?

“I shall, announced the demon, but my team plays first for the first round.”

The skeletons silently brought a play mat found somewhere in the mayor's house, and the demon handed out the cards.

“And ... are we going to do this all day?” Zamioculcas asked, looking at the cards in his hand.

“Well, I know a pond not far from the clearing from last time. We can go fishing, if you want. In addition the view is very pretty.”

“I guess...” said the wizard, fiddling with cards.

"When I was perched on trees and roofs, I saw mountains and fields, and even distant seas," announced the Sentinel.

The other three faces turned to her with perplexity. The white mask of the creature remained impassive. After a few seconds of embarrassment, her dismal voice ended up murmuring an explanation:

"I mean ... It would probably be nice to spend a moment there.”

"It's not like I have anything else to do," Zamioculcas said. “How good is a nine of clover? "

The End