None of the characters of, or the Discworld itself belong to me. There, now that is over with, thank you to all the people who asked/threatened for a sequel to 'Pokers, Swords and Lifetimers'. She Who Shines-this is going to be epic (insert manic laughter here).

Inhumations, Educations and Eye-Rollings

The world span. Susan raised a hand gingerly to her head and found blood. Someone slid an arm around her waist and forced her to sit down on the nearest chair. A man with blonde curls and mismatched eyes knelt before her looking concerned.

'I really thought you would move Susan.'

'Well I didn't.' She was having difficulty focusing on Teatime. Her eyes had decided not to be affiliated with her brain.

'I'm sorry I hit you so hard, but unless it's dangerous it's no fun.' He glanced ruefully at the poker in his hand.

'Why you associate violence with fun?' And why don't I know better than to associate love with a man who just hit me with a piece of fireside equipment? I mean I know love is blind, but it can't be completely immune to pain can it?

'Not violence. Danger.'

Susan rolled her eyes.

'Ah, you're feeling better.' Teatime smiled. His smile was as bright and pretty as the sound his mind must have made as it cracked, as the mirror shards of his mind.

Susan looked around the room. Various ornaments had been smashed. Furniture had been knocked over. The poker she had wielded was stuck in the wall. Possibly accepting Teatime's challenge to a duel had been a bad idea. Her room was a disaster zone, she had a head wound and the assassin was smiling. Wasn't it worth it to see him smile again? And, although she would never admit it to anyone else, it was. Teatime had been very depressed since he had realised he couldn't carry on being an assassin. There were several reasons. Susan would kill him, but then this was hardly unusual. The real obstacle was that the Assassin's Guild wouldn't have him back. An undead assassin who was not a vampire or a zombie but something else, was worrying. Even more worrying was the thought that they might have Teatime as a member again. Once had been more than enough. Teatime. His name was whispered by staff and students alike as the only person they feared besides Sam Vimes. This hardly stopped him. If Susan wasn't around he would have made lots of new friends proving he was still an assassin. But Susan changed everything.

Teatime missed inhuming. He missed the quiet thrill of taking life for payment and the satisfaction of a job well done. Susan had not dared suggest he take up another career. She knew him too well. He would find a way of inserting some of his extraordinary talents, and, of course, his knife, into the most innocent of jobs. Death had offered him work as an apprentice but Susan had refused on his behalf-Teatime would take far too much pleasure in being Death, the power would make him too dangerous and besides it would be weirdly like her mother and father.

Susan sighed. The only thing more frightening than Teatime the assassin was Teatime when bored. When he was bored he would sulk and play games with his knife (although he did this when occupied as well) and find new ways of torturing physics.

Teatime was looking at her curiously. 'What are you thinking?'

That you should really be dead. That the only reason you're not is me. That, when you are excited, your mismatched eyes aren't so noticeable. That you look wonderful in black. That you focus your attention span so much it only lasts seconds, but they are INTENSE seconds. But she couldn't say any of that.

'I should have beat you. The only reason you managed to hit me with that poker was because you cheated.'

'How did I cheat?' Teatime's lip curled in a way that proclaimed 'petulant child'.

'You threw my poker into the wall!'

'You allowed me to grab it.'

'I was trying to stab you at the time.'

'Then what I did was self-defence.'

He did have a point. After all the poker had been the instrument of his demise. Somehow Susan could only imagine him dead these days. Never, since that Hogswatch, had she actually managed to murder him. This was not due to lack of effort. The thing about Teatime was that even as you thought you had beat him he was learning how you worked, how you thought, how you fought, so he could evade you. He never wanted complete defeat, because that would be boring. He just wanted to evade and laugh, and then allow you just enough hope that you would try again.

He liked people who made an effort for him. And Susan always went that extra mile to show him exactly how much she wished to best him. She was so much fun. He could only hope that she found him as enjoyable.

'Susan I was thinking about something.'

'What?' The assassin could never just say what he wanted to. He always had to lead up to it, to demand attention before he had said anything worthy of it. Susan found it exasperating.

'When I was revived, and when we challenged the Afterlife, and then afterwards in Death's Domain I was witnessing your world.'

'Teatime that was NOT my world. That was just a series of events my grandfather set in motion in a bid to replicate some romantic novel. This is my life. On the Disc. Being normal.'

Teatime gave her a funny look. 'Normal?' Before Susan could start an argument he spoke again, 'well, whatever you want to believe I saw a part of your existence. but you saw none of mine. Would you like to? I'd be only too happy to show you what my life was like before...pokers became involved.' Teatime was smiling, and if Susan didn't know better she would say he seemed slightly anxious.

'Teatime I do not want to witness any inhumations. Or knife games. Or theorize about the best method for killing Clinkerbell. Or participate in a game of how-many-people-can-I-psychologically-scar-in-hour.'

Teatime did his best to look hurt. 'I don't settle for just psychological scars. I could show you other things. I thought that was the kind of thing friends do. And I already know how I would inhume Clinkerbell, I devised a rather elegant meth-'

'I don't want to know!'

Teatime's mouth opened in shock. 'But it's so interesting.' He saw the look on Susan's face and, with unusual tact, changed the subject. 'What if I showed you how it felt to prowl the streets of the city in the dead of night and see the stars shining so high above?'

Susan almost thought he was being romantic until he carried on.

'So high you wonder if anyone could ever find a way to bring them close enough to inhume.'

'You look at the night sky and you want to inhume it?'

'Can you think of anything better to think of when you look at it? And I must correct you. I don't think of how to inhume the whole sky. Just parts of it, one star at a time.' He really did seem to believe this was a reasonable and logical response to the sight of heaven's diamond studded vault.

'You have a one-track mind, Jonathan Teatime.'

'There are at least two tracks. I have ascertained that much. Because I can think about you and inhumation at the same time.'

Susan was becoming more and more astounded.

'You think about inhuming me?'

'Oh, fairly often, but what I meant then was that I can think both of you and also of an unrelated commission at the same time.'

'That's not really much better. So when you think of me you are also thinking of killing people?' Why do I develop feelings for the mad ones?

'Susan I have corrected you repeatedly. I advise you to learn. I do not kill, murder or slay, I inhume.'

'Oh that makes all the difference.'

He beamed. 'Glad to see you're getting the hang of this.'