I don't own the Discworld or any of its characters except the Afterlife and his Afterlifetimers, which will appear about chapter 4. Thank She Who Shines and Purplepeanutbutter for the inspiration for this fanfic.

Susan had returned to Death's Domain. Grandfather had invited her and she couldn't bring herself to say no, if only out of pity. He tried so hard to be human...

There was always a huge flaw in his efforts.

***

Susan, Death and Albert were gathered in the kitchen. She had the suspicion that Albert shouldn't be privy to the ensuing conversation but knew that he would not allow himself to be dismissed from the kitchen, which he deemed, with concrete certainty, his territory. You could tell-unlike the rest of Death's house it had a patina of grime so insinuated into the room it would be impossible to remove. It reflected Albert in that respect.

HELLO SUSAN.

'Hello Grandfather.' She tried to be polite as she asked 'was there anything in particular that you wished to talk about. Only I'm quite busy marking...'

TIME IS NEVER AN ISSUE. NOT FOR ME.

'Yes I've noticed.' Mentally she added but I want to be normal and treating time as an adjustable option is not normal.

For a moment Death appeared to hesitate, apparently on the cusp of broaching and bewildering and entirely new subject, and rather nervous about the whole enterprise.

AND I HAVE ALSO NOTICED, SUSAN, THAT WOMEN OF YOUR AGE...BEHAVE IN A CERTAIN WAY.

Inwardly Susan groaned, As her only living (and she used the term aware fully aware of the paradox) relative Death appeared to have taken on the responsibility of the Courting Talk. Several years too late. She wondered if embarrassment had decided to pay special attention to those few seconds, as the levels of it in several parties certainly exceeded any previously harboured by anyone else. It was a new world record.

'Grandfather I know, okay? So we can kill this conversation right now.' She never got desperate, but she was certainly very keen for this topic of conversation to go away.

AH. Death looked around the room. ALBERT, THERE IS SOME GARDENING TO BE DONE, I BELIEVE.

'But...'

GO ALBERT.

'Right you are, master.'

Albert left, muttering under his breath, as all put upon servants are inclined to do.

After another awkward silence Death spoke again.

TEATIME, SUSAN. MR TEATIME. A CONSIDERABLY ODD MAN. POSSESSED OF A UNIQUE WORLD VIEW, I THOUGHT-

'Where is this going?' Susan demanded. She did not want to have to consider that assassin. Not only had he tried to kill her, Death (attempted morticide!) and endangered the children he defied physics and that was illogical. Susan hated things that defied logic.

Death attempted to look embarrassed but when that didn't work he radiated awkwardness instead.

WELL...I WORRY THAT PERHAPS...GENETICS INTERFER. YOU WANT NORMALITY AND THAT MEANS NOT SUFFERING FOR YOUR INHERITANCE. AND I FEEL THE ONLY PERSON I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED CAPABLE OF DEALING WITH YOUR HERITAGE WAS JONATHON TEATIME.

'He was twisted!'

IN THE RIGHT WAY. IN HIS OWN WAY HE MAY EVEN HAVE BEEN SANE. UNLIKELY BUT NOT IMPOSSIBLE.

'No, sanity is not a matter of opinion.'

Death just looked at her. OF COURSE IT IS. An hourglass appeared in his hand. The name carved into the black wood was Jonathon Teatime.

'Anyway he is dead. I killed him. With a poker.'

I WAS THERE. THE POKER HAD TO GO THROUGH ME FIRST. I WAS RATHER UPSET THAT YOU THREW IT AT ME SUSAN. WHAT IF I HADN'T BEEN PAYING ATTENTION? YOU COULD HAVE BROKEN A RIB. HOW EMBARRASSING WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN? SWINGING THE SCYTHE AND HAVING A RIB FALL OFF. OR HAVING IT WIRED BACK ON. HARDLY DIGNIFIED. He seemed to remember himself. TIMERS CAN BE REVERSED. And with that Death flipped the hourglass.

'Grandfather!'

GRANDPARENTS ARE SUPPOSED TO IGNORE RULES FOR THEIR GRANDCHILDREN, TO MAKE THEM HAPPY.

'Not like this they're not! Not when the rules are the rules of the universe.'

Death stalked off. ENJOY YOURSELVES. He might even have chuckled quietly.

Susan noted the plural and turned around. Smiling at her was a young assassin with mismatched eyes that tainted his boyish good looks.

'Hello Susan. Where's the poker?'