.:I:.

The thing about death, William had discovered, is that it had the tendency to get messy. Any number of things could go wrong – someone may not have filed the names properly and the reaper could end up in entirely the wrong place. The reaper on duty may not have sharpened their Death Scythe before heading out – that could make for a messy collection. The soul of the dead person may not want to be collected – William had seen one case too many where the soul had tenaciously fought back before being forced into submission.

But not all deaths had to become chaotic. Some went smoothly and easily; without a single hitch. Souls were reaped, stored, and then a report was filed back at the office. No overtime, no disorder, and everyone could go home in time to get some sleep. Just like that.

God he was hoping that this soul wasn't a fighter.

As he wove his way through the crowd, William couldn't help but feel a tinge of pity for them. They knew so little about the world – to them, everything was so straight forward the they could afford the leisure of going to fancy parties like these. They could dance to music and they could drink wine and eat the disgusting morsels of human food that were scattered on platters over the tables. They didn't have to think of all the other things that went on in the world, like the wars and the tragic deaths of innocent people and natural disasters. They didn't see the big picture. And while the big picture may seem depressing at first, William had often reminded himself that this was simply the way the world worked; people lived, and people died, and life went on. Immortality wasn't a virtue granted to humans – their divinity was so low they hardly counted for anything these days, and yet they built up empires as though they were gods.

Someone bumped into him, drunkenly apologized and stumbled passed him. William let out an irritated intake of breath, glancing only momentarily at the alcohol splatter across his otherwise spotless blazer. Wonderful. Now he was in a hurry and stinking like a drunk human. And tonight's reaping was already running late as it was. If only Ronald hadn't taken so long in getting ready for duty – or if only he hadn't spent that precious ten minutes trying to chat up the ladies in reception, William sighed inwardly again.

Making his way around a laughing group of party-goers, William slipped into a small hallway just off the main party room. No one had seen him enter and no one had noticed him go. Perhaps the man who'd stumbled into him was wondering why he'd apologized to thin air, but otherwise Will had come and gone as silently as the moths dancing dizzily around the ornately decorated ceiling lights.
The hallway was darker, without any lights on as a guide through the shadows, but Will didn't need to be able to see to be able to locate the room he was after – the scent of death was heavier now there wasn't any perfume or cologne or alcohol to interfere with his sense of small. He stalked quietly down the hall until he came to the fourth door down, and knocked quietly. Without waiting for an answer, Will twisted open the doorknob and let himself in.

There was an old man settled comfortably in an armchair by the window – anyone else might think he was already dead, but Will saw the slight twitch of the mans eyelids – rapid eye movement gave away the mans dozing state.

'It's time to leave, now,' William said quietly, and it was enough to stir the elderly man. He blinked and shook himself, looking around the darkened room in surprise. The only light was that coming in through the window, where the moon shone down across the old mans lap.

'Hmm, ah –what?' he broke off into a wheezy coughing fit, and Will took a single step closer, without revealing himself in the moonlight.

'It's time,' he repeated, and the old man seemed to focus on him – anyone else would have looked straight through him. But the dying were able to recognize reapers. It wasn't always the case, usually only the elderly could do it. This case didn't surprise Will in the least – the old mans record said that he had passed experiences with ghosts and apparitions, though no one had ever believed his claims.

'Time already?' the old man sighed, readjusting himself in his seat, getting more comfortable. 'But it's not even midnight.' A wise old smile cracked over his aged features. Will guessed that the man would have been quite handsome in his younger years, and even in the dim moonlight he could tell that age hadn't whisked away all the old mans' charm; the smile was still a smile, a genuine one. Without further ado, Will reached into his blazer and pulled a large book, filled with tags and notes scrawled over the pages. He opened it in the flat of his hand, but the pages settled themselves to the exact page he wanted.

'One Mister Sonny Stephenson,' he read aloud. 'Aged eighty-nine. Dies on the seventeenth of December, two thousand and eleven, at ten forty-five pm. Dies peacefully in his sleep, from heart failure. Family do not discover his body until early the next morning, during the clean-up of the party from the night before.'

'Ah, that's soundin' 'bout right,' Mr Stephenson nodded along, coughing a little more. He thumped gently at his chest with one withered old hand. 'Me old ticker's not workin' so well anymore.'

'It would appear so,' William said without emotion. He stowed the book back into his blazer, and Mr Stephenson beckoned him closer.

'Will ya do somethin' for a dyin' man, lad?'

Will watched the old man silently as the man coughed and wheezed again, pounding at his chest again to clear his throat.

'Come closer, lad. Will ya?'

William stepped over the carpeted floor, swerving around the small coffee table that stood in the middle of the grandly furnished room – everything had been restored to look very grand and old fashioned – even the armchair the old man was seated in had been redecorated to suit the surroundings. A stone-cold cup of tea sat on the windowsill beside Mr Stephenson, completely forgotten as the old man leant forward as much as he dared without tipping out of his chair to peer at Will as the reaper stopped in front of him.

'You're one of them reapers, ain't ya, lad?'

'I am,' William replied. Mr Stephenson cracked up laughing, coughing and wheezing in hysterical laughter.

'You're a funny one, you.' He pointed a shaky, wrinkled finger at William. 'You're one of 'em better ones, you are. Got no sense of humour, huh?'

'I assume that's not an entirely bad thing,' William said flippantly, and checked his pocket watch. Even after all these years, it still kept on ticking, keeping the same time as him. Mr Stephenson nodded along, the same laughing smile on his old and decrepit face. This man's time was up, yet he still found enough space for humour. Will would honestly never understand humans. There was simply no end to the ludicrous ways of the mortals. He tried not to think about how much they'd still be laughing if they saw the entirety of the big picture. It would probably shut Mr Stephenson up, though. William sighed and reached back into his blazer.

'Ooh,' Mr Stephenson cooed. 'That's one of 'em Death Scythes, ain't it?'

'It is,' Will drew the compact Scythe from his blazer, and allowed it to extend to it's usual length – it stood, tip to tip, from the floor at Will's feet to bottom of Will's earlobe. Not an overly impressive sight, but old Mr Stephenson seemed to think it was something truly special.

'Caw,' he murmured, leaning back in his armchair contentedly. 'Now ain't that somethin'. A real reaper, with a real Death Scythe, come to take me away.'

'This is just a formality, Mr Stephenson, but your record says that you die in your sleep,' Will said tersely. It was getting late – it was already ten forty-three – the old man hardly had two minutes left. Mr Stephenson nodded.

'That's what you said it does, yes,' he mumbled. 'Think you mind if I –' he yawned before breaking into another coughing fit. When he was calm, he continued. 'If I doze…off a bit…?'

Will waited silently for the old man to nod off, his chin drooping to his chest, before Will stepped back and extended the Death Scythe. The clock on the wall said ten forty-five, and there was a quiet snip through the air, and then a flourish of black and white lit the room. Will opened the old man's record again, and the cinematic record blurred into a life of light and flashes of memories around him, coiling and flowing before settling into the pages of the book in his hands.

Stowing the book away again, Will retracted his Death Scythe and took one final look at the body of Mr Stephenson. He didn't doubt that the man could've been quite the talker, but Will wasn't in the mood for feeble conversation tonight. Then again, he was hardly ever in the mood for conversation, no matter how enlightening. The old man was just as Will had found him – looking as though he was dozing peacefully in his chair. Only this time those who would have guessed the old man looked as dead as he seemed would now be right. With that, William turned and walked away.

The party was still going as before, with people not noticing Will as he passed through their midst; they just continued laughing and talking, completely unaware of the dead man in that well-furbished room just down the hallway.
It was only when Will had reached the gravel driveway outside, down the stone steps that lead up into the manor house housing the party, when he was interrupted. There was a buzzing in his pocket.

Pulling out the infernal device, his flipped it open, hit the green button, and raised the cell phone to his ear.

'Yes?' he continued walking towards the sleek, black waiting car. There was someone leaning against the car, looking bored.

'Hey boss,' Ronald said, perking up a little as William approached. Will ignored him and answered the voice on the other end of the phone.

'Yes? No, you know where the dictionaries are kept. It's a simple enough word, use your head for once.' He said, opening the passenger door and sliding into the car. Ronald sighed, rolled his eyes, and joined him, taking the driver's seat. 'Hmm? No, I'll be home sometime after twelve. Don't wait up for me.'

He closed the phone and stowed it back into his pocket, before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Ronald leant on the rim of the steering wheel, watching him.

'So boss,' he started conversationally. 'How'd it go?'

Will took a moment before replying, reaching back for his seatbelt, and Ronald did likewise before turning the key in the ignition and starting the car. It purred into life, the engine not much more than a gentle rumble.

'It was a clean cut, well carried out, and the soul is safely stored,' Will said simply as the car pulled away from the large, restored manor house and onto the street, the dark night lit by passing streetlights. Ronald headed the car out onto the freeway to join the rush of other cars on the multi-lane highway, heading back towards the inner city of London.

'Well that's good,' Ronald said, not sounding particularly enlightened by it. 'At least it's over and done with.'

William reached into the back seat of the car and pulled a slim, silver laptop, opening it in his lap and dimming the brightness as to not distract Ronald from driving – but the younger reaper took notice anyway.

'You filing the report already?' he asked in surprise. 'Can't that wait until we get back to the office? Really?'

'It pays to file a report directly after a reaping, Knox,' Will said sternly, not bothering to glance at his partner, the dim light from the screen casting an unreadable reflection on his glasses.

'Why, boss, you got somewhere to be?' Ronald smile slyly. 'What about that phone call? Someone making you a late dinner or something?'

William shot Ronald a hard glance, and the younger reaper fell silent, fearing the wrath that Will could unleash upon him.

'For your information, that call was private business and none of yours. I am tired, and I am going home once this report is finished.' He said, a steel-hard edge to his voice that made Ronald try to shrink into his own black suit and white shirt collar. The younger Shinigami backed down and focussed on shifting gears and switching lanes.

The car flew over the tarmac and passed other cars, William's fingers flying over the keyboard and tapping away at a furious pace. Ronald took one of the exits that led into deeper into the city, winding along the streets that cut through the spaces between the towering buildings above them, darkened in the night yet illuminated by millions of lights flashing from windows, neon signs and street lights passing them by. William took no notice, but Ronald examined their surroundings lazily. After a moment, the younger reaper sighed and threw his superior a bored glance.

'So.' He began, not even sure that William was going to bothering answering. 'That big function – that's this weekend, yeah? At the convention centre?'

William made a low noise of acknowledgment, not looking up from his work. Ronald rolled his eyes and tried again.

'You going?'

'As a superior officer, it is expected that I attend this function.' Will answered in his usual monotone voice. 'And so will the majority of the active staff.'

'So that means we'll get to see Senpai Adair and Sutcliff again, right?' Ronald asked, perking up a little bit. The two Shinigami in question had been stationed out in Africa for the passed for weeks, and boring old duty with Will was beginning to wear Ronald thin. No more good conversation – not even Senpai Humphries was much good at talking – it was all work, all the time with him when it came to active duty.

'It does indeed,' Will answered, and Ronald smiled, thinking about all the catch up chatter he'd get from Senpai Sutcliff – the redhead was bound to have some good gossip to bring back with him. William glanced at the young blonde as he paused, mid-type. The younger reaper was staring off into the distance, not really registering the cars as they rolled passed. They reached a paved area, inaccessible to larger vehicles, but the sleek black car sailed into the garage and into the underground parking area.

There were only a few other cars parked around – the slam of car doors echoed through the concrete garage as Will and Ronald left the vehicle, Ronald pressing the automatic lock button and the reassuring beep of the car as they strode away from it. Will kept the laptop balanced on one forearm as he typed with the other, his fingers moving deftly over the keys before he clapped the lid of the laptop shut, the light disappearing and leaving them in the dimmer light that crept in through the parking garage windows.

'Report done?' Ronald asked as he loped alongside his elder partner, hands in his pockets. William nodded and tucked the laptop under his arm, his shoulders straight. They reached an elevator set into the concrete wall at the other end of the parking garage, and Ronald pushed the upward flashing red button, and they both stood in silence for a moment as they waited. There was a quiet hiss of air as the doors slid open, and William stepped through, followed by Ronald, before hitting the button on the inside panel. The doors closed, Ronald sighed and leant back against the wall, and the elevator began took off upwards.

'Ronald?'

'Yes, Senpai?' Ronald shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hands in pockets.

'Do stop staring at me.'

There was pause.

'I…wasn't…staring…'

'You were,' Will said tersely, a hard edge to his voice. 'Out of the corner of your eye. If you have a question, just ask it.'

Ronald sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump. Will knew he had caught him out – he hadn't actually been able to see his junior partner watching him, but he'd felt it. Ever since Will had gotten that phone call. The blond had been waiting for some sort of an explanation, but by singling him out, Will was now forcing Ronald to ask. William was fairly sure that he had already successfully predicted the question, and he wasn't prepared to answer.

'Um…okay, boss.' Ronald sighed again, before looking straight at his senior. 'Who was it?'

'Who was who, Ronald?'

'That phone call.'

Just as expected, William sighed internally. After a moment, he formulated a relatively good answer.

'None of your business. Now stop looking at me like that.'

Ronald shrugged and chuckled.

'Sure thing, boss. It's just so unusual for you to get calls like that. At first, I didn't even know that you had a phone. Only really found out after Eric-Senpai redirected one of my calls to your phone.'

'I don't know why I own a phone sometimes, either,' William said irritably, remembering the time when Ronald had been blubbering desperately on the other end of the line into his ear, sobbing something about getting caught in his own zipper. Ronald blushed, obviously remembering the time, too.

'Well, at least you were nice enough to talk me through it,' he said awkwardly, and William rolled his eyes. The only reason he hadn't hung up on the young idiot was because he hadn't been able to find the end call button. That particular problem, however, was quickly resolved after a conversation with Eric, who had been unable to stop laughing as Will explain the situation to him. Several other reapers had risked laughing, until William had glared daggers their way. Only Eric had seemed unfazed. There were times that Will could strangle that reaper for the simple act of not caring.

'Mhmm,' Will muttered, trying to drop the conversation. Ronald go the hint, and they fell silent again as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. Both reapers blinked in the sudden brightness of the office-room lights, still on even after many of the other active reapers had left and gone home for the night. They moved like ghosts the hall and into their designated office, William heading straight to one of the filing cabinets as Ronald made a bee-line for the coffee machine.

'Aah, well – I'm beat,' the younger reaper stretched and yawned. 'Soon as I fill in the partner report, I'm headin' home and hitting the sack. You?'

William nodded as he fished through the filing cabinet, in search of a particular manila file. Pulling one out at last, he headed to the printer, pulling a long USB cable from a compartment in the laptop that was still tucked under his arm. He plugged it into the printer, pressed several buttons, and was soon rewarded by three sheets of warm, freshly printed paper shooting out the other end of the machine. He filed them away into the folder, unplugged the USB cable, and returned the file to the cabinet. Ronald was leaning casually against the coffee machine, the brewing machine warming his back.

'Hmm, feels good after a long winter's day,' Ronald sighed happily, letting his head flop back and gazing up at the ceiling, arms folded as William came over to join him, handing him a sheaf of papers that he'd picked up on his way. Ronald groaned loudly and looked down at the partner report Will had given him. It was only a few pages long – but still long enough to keep him from his nice warm bed at home. Even reapers had to sleep.

'As soon as you're done, run off a copy and file them both. I want to see it on my desk first thing tomorrow morning,' William breezed past him and back towards the office door. Ronald looked over his shoulder after him as the coffee machine started to whistle.

'You're not gonna stick around for a coffee?' Ronald called, pouring the steaming water into a cup before stirring in a few spoons of instant ground coffee from the jar beside the brewer. William waved back to him without turning.

'No. Good night, Reaper Knox.'

William made it back to the parking garage in silence before he noticed a different sort of chill in the air. He straightened his blazer on his shoulders and did a quick search of his pockets for his own car keys. Pressing a small button on the key ring, he was rewarded by the beep and flashing of his cars lights, parked a few vehicles down. In truth, all the cars here were Shinigami Dispatch Society property, but each reaper had a designated car to drive on a day-to-day basis while off duty. This building wasn't even within the Shinigami Realm – it was just a normal office building, built for the sole purpose of allowing the London branch of the Dispatch Society to conduct everyday goings on as normal people; dressed just like everyone else out there.

It helped them blend in, was the reasoning that William and the other reapers had been given when the times had changed and had called for the Death Gods to evolve and move with the movement of technology and society. The building acted as a way-point between the real world and the Shinigami Realm – the only place in England where Shinigami were safely capable of transportation to the otherworldly realm. Teleportation to the Realm was possible in other places, but only if you were keen to risk losing an arm or leg in the process. Moving between worlds was a tricky business.

Will sighed a little as he allowed himself to slump into the drivers seat. The car was warmer than the outside temperature, but it was of little comfort. Turning the key in the ignition, the first thing he did was turn up the heater. That was better. Sort of, anyhow. He wasn't sure why, but this evening had seemed to drag on forever; more than any other day – and being immortal, any other day could end up being like an eternity. The digital clock on the heads up display flashed at him: 11:24 PM. Will sighed again and put the car into reverse.

The roads were clear as he pulled into the street, but something drifting downwards caught the corner of his eye before he accelerated out of the garage. Will looked out his window, only to see the tiniest of snowflakes beginning to descend – dancing and twirling slowly downwards, as if they were sinking through a aspic that was the night sky.

'Hmm,' he murmured, to no one in particular, as he put the car into first gear and drove out and into the night. By the time he was on the highway out of the main city of London and into more built up housing areas, the snow was thicker, but still waltzing in that slow, graceful way.