It wasn't that Grell came to work unpresentable. No, she never did, and indeed, after being told that she was required to spend an agonizing day in the filing room rather than out doing dispatch work (as was her proper place), she made a point of showing up to the office in her favorite bustled polonaise skirt and ultra-fashionable crimson bolero jacket. (And it technically fit dress code, so there wasn't a damn thing Will could do about it but stare at her ruffle-adorned rear with what was obviously repressed lust and not disappointment in his employee wearing what looked like, as Agent Slingby put it- "hotel drapery".)
The thing about office work was, however, that it lent itself to quick boredom, and with hardly anyone to pester or any real action to pay attention to, Grell soon found herself disheveled, fidgety, prone to folding reports into paper crafts, sticking half the departments' writing utensils in her messy hairbun and indulging in periodic cat naps. Overall, not the best shape in which to meet someone new.
"I wasn't sleeping, Will!" she said as soon as the door opened, shooting to an upright position at her desk and peeling off a bit of notepaper stuck to her face, "And I'm almost finished with the expense report from last week, so I should be able to hit the field by tomor-" Will held the door open and let his guest in, "-oh? Who the hell is that?"
"Senior Collections Agent Grell Sutcliffe, this is Apprentice Reaper Ronald Knox. He is to be your charge for the coming years of his training with the London dispatch department. Please become acquainted."
The apprentice kept a hand in his pocket and raised the other in a friendly but none too affected wave.
He said: "Hey".
"Wait, what? Charge? When was this decided? You can't just spring this on me! I wasn't ready. I'm not looking presentable! Will, this is so unfair!"
Will adjusted his glasses in that distractingly sexy way he always did when disgruntled... or calm... or accomplished... or breathing.
"Honestly, Sutcliffe. We discussed this six months ago. You were told you had reached a level of seniority that would merit extra responsibilities, including the mentorship of our junior transfer workers. You agreed to take on an apprentice collections agent as a personal protege. You were properly notified then."
"That was half a year ago, I can't be expected to remember-"
"And last week, when you attended the apprentice program seminar and were briefed on the decorum of such relationships."
"Yes, but-"
"And this morning, when I left a note in the front of your collections log so you would be sure to see it before you began any work today."
Grell cringed and discreetly brushed away the newspaper covering her collections log before hesitantly cracking open the first page. And there it was indeed.
Fuck.
"Ahaha, of course I was simply joking with you, Will dear. You can carry along now, I know how to handle this."
He did the glasses thing again. And the eyebrow thing. At this point, Grell was positive the bastard did it just to make her weak in the knees, but of course he would never admit it. What a fantastically cruel man. Ah, but to think of the things he might be capable of while maintaining that impassive icy glare...
"Very well then, I have a meeting in General Affairs. After that, you know where to find me," He regarded her with one last skeptical look, "Though I trust you will not be needing my guidance."
"William, you are such a ridiculously silly dear. You just leave it all to me and don't worry your pretty little head. Alright? Alright! Ciao!"
The apprentice kid buried both hands in his pockets and let out a whistle after Will closed the door.
"Looks like a right lively place around here. Always this busy in the London branch?"
"I wouldn't know. I'm usually out working the field, as I should be."
"Now that's what I like to hear! I got enough paperwork at uni- I am so over it!" He laughed and Grell finally perked up. Apprentice or no, it would simply not do to give a gentleman a half-hearted introduction.
"Pardon me for not greeting you properly," she said, stepping (rather, skipping) around scattered piles of folders stacked against the desk to meet him with a handshake and half a curtsy, "Agent Sutcliffe, Senior London Soul Collections Agent. You may address me as Senior Sutcliffe, or Milady, should the inspiration hit you."
His handshake in response was disarmingly energetic.
"Ronald Knox. Just graduated the Reaper University in Essex, transferred here a couple days ago. You might not've heard of me round here, but back home I have quite a reputation as a lady-killer. Don't worry though, I promise to keep things strictly professional in the office," He gave a cheeky grin and winked- "Unless you prefer I don't."
Good god, the boy was shameless, wasn't he? She gave him a once-over and brief consideration. He was young, but very good looking. Blond- no, a bad dye job maybe- half blond. Sported some outrageous youth fashion trends- white shoes, loosely knotted cravat, thick rimmed glasses that suited his facial structure perfectly. Mischievous eyes, a charming laugh and sweet smile. Not her type at all.
"I'm taken," she said, apologetically. It was true, after all. Will just hadn't gotten around to admitting it to himself yet. Everyone else knew, so the kid might as well too.
"Ehh? That's too bad. Oh, makes sense though- are you married to the other Sutcliffe in the branch?"
"Pardon?"
"I was just going through some of the office profiles and the only Agent Sutcliffe I saw was listed as 'Male'. Figure that was your husband then, yeah?"
Grell winced internally, but maintained a bright smile.
"No, I'm the only Sutcliffe in the London branch."
She expected a moment of pause and a dumb look on Ronald's face, which she did indeed get. She didn't, however, expect the dumbfounded expression to blossom into excitement as quickly as it did.
"Whoa. For real? No way! That's bloody awesome!" He grabbed her hand again and shook it vigorously, "I never met a real masher before. Ha! London's gonna be great after all!"
It didn't occur to Grell to take offense or correct him on his... extremely mistaken epithet, maybe just because he looked so damn enthusiastic and well-meaning about it. Like a puppy that's pissed all over your new dress but only because he was so happy to see you. Yes, exactly like a puppy. He would learn in time. Because he was hers to teach, and teach him she would.
"You are just... too... precious." she said, reaching out and pulling him close, "Come to me, nestle in Grell's bosom. Ah, you sweet innocent boy. You know, I have always wanted a little brother," (Lies; the inclination started right at that moment, but it oh what a romantic notion!), "You can call me 'Sister' if you wish!"
Ronald's voice came out muffled from the lace-drowned hug he was pulled into,
"Um, I think I'll stick with Senior Sutcliffe-"
"Shh, don't ruin the moment."
They stood there for a spell, as Grell sighed and dreamily stroked Ronald's hair.
"Uh... Senior-"
"Just a bit longer."
"Mmf... hmm..." He seemed to resign himself to the smother of crushed velvet and Grell's iron grip.
"Well then!" she released him and spun around, "We have much to learn, don't we, my tender little pupil~!"
He shook himself off, looking no worse for wear.
"Guess so. So's this your office?"
"Heavens no! I've been exiled to the filing room for today due to a records mishap that was so clearly not even my fault. I have a desk in the main office where I usually spend no more than an hour before getting to the real collections work."
She huffed in exasperation, reminded of her poor luck at being cooped up in such dull surroundings, "If this room were mine, I'd have made it a lot more pleasant to look at..." She tapped her foot, "Come to think of it, that's a good idea. We should spend today decorating! I know a shop where we can find the loveliest red brocades that would be perfect for curtains! And red roses, those would be to die for!"
"I don't know a lot about decorating or anything, but I guess I could help..."
"Don't be ridiculous; you clearly have a decent sense of avant garde fashion style. I'm sure you're just full of ideas! Say, how much time do we have to kill before the work day is over?"
"Lemme see, it's..." Ronald pulled up his sleeve, "About quarter till two, so we've a little over three hours to clock-out time, on my shift at least."
"Was I really slee- I mean, working for that long? Dreadful, simply terrible!" Grell did a double take "Wait a moment, what is that thing?"
"What, this?" Ronald grinned and proudly uncovered his wrist, "I'm a big clock-watcher, but keeping a pocketwatch on a chain's such a pain in the arse, so I customized this one."
"You- you like customizing things too?"
"Sure, if inspiration hits me, I can tinker with stuff a little. What kind of things do you like to alter?"
"Oh, the usual things," Grell said, coyly twirling a bit of hair around her finger, "Clothes, furniture..." she looks up with a sly grin, "Death Scythes..."
The look on Ronald's face is one of pure unbridled delight.
"You can DO that?"
"Of course you can!" She adopted a dramatic pose, "Simply apply your heart and soul to a task and anything is possible!" She batted her eyelashes, "I have a book of blueprints if you'd like to discuss them over tea. What do you say, little apprentice?"
"Would I ever!" Ronald nearly jumped, but then jolted into a sudden realization, "Ah, but I already took my break an hour ago. Can't sign out on another one for today."
"Oh, you silly boy," Grell laughed and took Ronald's hand, effectively dragging him through the office door and down the corridor, "Scheduling rules are more like... guidelines anyway."
"I dunno, I'd hate to get found out and have to do overtime for it on my first day."
Grell slowed down for a moment, fished through her birds-nest of a hair bun and with great panache produced one of the many pens stored within it,
"Then get to work on writing your apology note to Will, because we're going out, and you're going to like it!"
"Yes, ma'am."