Elizaveta happily pranced through the door of her small apartment.

"Gilbert!" she sang. "I'm home!" There was no response. A pout marred her angelic face as she looked around for her lover. Her eyes danced over the kitchen and the living room before a streak of white hair flashed in her peripheral vision.

"Ah ha! I found you!" She walked over to the couch where he was sitting. "Why didn't you answer me when I came in?" Elizaveta received no response. Gilbert stared straight ahead as if she wasn't there.

Another pout made its way across her pretty features. "Are you still mad at me from yesterday's fight? Because I'm over it," Still, nothing came from the red-eyed man. Elizaveta swept her gaze around the room, taking in the mess. Sighing, she muttered to herself, "I need to clean up."

Grabbing a sponge and bucket of water, she set to work cleaning the rust-coloured splotches from the couch and floor. When she was done with that, she noticed that Gilbert still hadn't moved from his position.

"Gil, why are you ignoring me?" Elizaveta asked as she twirled a piece of her long brown hair in her hand. The albino looked as if he could have been sleeping, were it not for the fact that his eyes were open. His blood red eyes stared straight ahead, apparently ignoring the Hungarian woman in front of him. The infamous white hair still looked as soft as ever. Gilbert's normally pale skin looked even paler today, abite, for an entirely different reason.

Elizaveta plopped down on the loveseat across from him and tried to stare him down. Green clashed with red, and a third party would have been reminded of Christmas. As she continued to stare into her favourite colour, a thought suddenly occurred to her. She still hadn't cleaned her keys from what had happened yesterday. Moving her gaze from Gilbert to the key ring on the table, she went to go get a rag to wipe them down with. Settling herself on the loveseat again, the fierce, warrior-like woman began cleaning.

"Egy, kettö, három, négy, öt," she muttered to herself, counting the number of keys. Glancing at Gilbert again, she murmured, "You won't talk to me. Why?" The keys were almost free of the liquid congealed on them.

She stood up, and walked to where the German sat. Gently caressing his cheek, Elizaveta smiled at him, smearing a little of the liquid on the keys onto him.

"You should have listened to me," she whispered, her Hungarian accent slipping through more than usual. "Silly, Gil, you shouldn't have fought with me."

Spreading more of the red liquid on her lover's face, Elizaveta smiled.

"It's too bad you're dead."