I believe this is the first Nobby/Reg romance ever to be written-anyone who has read 'Comradeship Has Limits' will understand what led me to this, but it is not intended to be a sequel. Please don't read if you don't want to see that pairing. Will be tame-I promise, just implied or hinted at romance. Review, if you can bear to. And if you can't I'd just like to mention that I never normally write stuff like this.

And I own nothing. Everything but the pairing belongs to Terry Pratchett.

Glad to be Grey or Miserable to be Miscellaneous?

Reg knew there was something wrong when he walked into the Pseudopolis Yard that morning. He just didn't comprehend how wrong, until he saw the sight at the desk.

Nobby was in a filthy temper. The Watch had arrested him last night-his own colleagues had left him in the cells all night. Because he had been 'indecently apparelled' whilst walking the streets. They'd only let him out of the cells once he had exchanged his Beti clothes for uniform.

Nobby saw a target in Reg. Someone had to suffer. He missed being able to wear enough bangles to make him lop-sided. He really didn't see why anyone should object to a little glamour, even if the glamour he was aiming for involved rather too many sequins and rather too little fabric. Where was a cross-dressing corporal to turn? Where could he be accepted? Or at least not rejected too violently. An evil but strangely charming idea crept into his head. Perhaps a target could become a plan.

'Reg?'

'Yes?' Reg didn't move any closer to Nobby, but did stop walking (or, to be cruelly accurate, lurching. Zombies can't help but lurch. They are experienced and expert lurchers).

Nobby tried to smile winsomely. All that happened was that his face seemed to become a reverse-landslide, heading upwards as one largely unified mass.

'I was wondering if you still needed members for that meeting thing of yours...'

'But they're for the differently alive Nobby.'

Nobby shrugged. 'Who's to say I'm normally alive? If anyone's differently alive it's me.'

Reg was flabbergasted by this argument. It was undeniable that Nobby certainly wasn't an ordinary type of person, and his precise species was difficult to discern, especially since anyone trying to study Nobby in fine detail would first have to be sectioned. Reg squinted at the corporal. Certainly, if seen whilst visually-impaired Nobby could be considered a particularly mal-treated zombie...Reg tried to unthink that last thought. It could lead nowhere good, though hell was a definite contender for the destination.

'Maybe...that is to say...' Inspiration struck and it struck hard enough to leave Reg's brain temporarily non-functional. Only a zombie lacking brains would ever think that letting Nobby attend one meeting would then bore him into submission, and ensure his absence from future meetings. 'Why not?'

'Really?' Nobby grinned, and Reg became almost as nervous as he did in the presence of fire. 'I'll see you there then.'

Reg hurried off. Nobby smiled. This could be the start of something grotesque.

Please, please review. I'm begging.