Keeping Tabs
William T. Spears paused, admiring the simple cover of the thick book held up with both hands. It had been two months, seventeen days, four hours and approximately thirty minutes since he experienced the satisfaction of having his records completely in order.
He flipped through the journal one last time, delighted with how the slender post-its slipped against his thumb like pages; Flurries of blues, occasional yellow or unsightly red that simply could not be helped. He paused on one in particular, finger pressing against the ink. He caught himself before the corners of his lips could tug down- an expression not befitting the manager of the Dispatch Department- lest the others think something was wrong.
Clearing his desk he surveyed the calendar littered with boxed in color coded initials stacked in a schedule that allowed even the most ambitious slackers little time to spare. He had no choice but to defer any new case loads six months at least.
Unless...
William glanced beyond the short wall of books separating him from the neat rows of shinigami workspaces. A certain redhead, condemned to share the office with him for the next six months, was presently winking and blowing kisses with a flourish. William's eye twitched.
He quickly averted his eyes, but it was too late. As soon as he looked up again he was confronted with a pair of green eyes sparkling behind ghastly blood red frames. Grell's smile was all glistening white teeth and William reminded himself why this was a bad idea.
"You called, William, dear?"
William cleared his throat and pressed a finger against the bridge of his glasses. "You're mistaken, Sutcliffe. Back to your desk. I require those reports on the hour."
Grell pushed his lips into a pout, a single finger rubbing circles against the calendar presently absent of his initials.
"If I could be of any other use," he started.
"To your desk," William warned.
"I know how much you hate going down there..." he leaned forward, his long red hair slinking over the books and papers. William squared his shoulders. "I could be quick," Grell purred, "and maybe stop by one of those human stores... Pick up something colorful for the office." Grell's glove pressed against the colored tabs poking out of William's notebook, slipping the thin paper back and forth against his thumb.
He was running low...
"I hear they have a new model. Multiple colors in easy to use dispensers..."
If William had a heart it would be fluttering. He thought of the dwindling pile in his top drawer, how they so easily scattered when jostled about.
William cleared his throat. "If you fail this mission I will see to it personally that you're relegated to office detail for the next mortal year."
Grell's heels clicked along the linoleum floor. "I'll get you the usual," he winked over his shoulder.
William glanced around the office nervously, but fortunately, there would be no witnesses to silence tonight.