A little background piece on why my oc Novella likes Undertaker so much.

Novella watched Undertaker work on one of his "guests" with quiet awe. The way he cleaned the body, put it back together, and even prettied it up were fascinating to her. She was perched on an adjacent counter, watching his slender hands and long fingers work. She imagined what it'd be like to have those same hands working on her…

She stifled a moan at the thought, the muffled sound catching the elder shinigami's attention. "Something wrong, m'dear?"

Fidgeting with her glasses, she waved him off. "Oh, no! It's nothing."

Undertaker went back to his task. "You're awful quiet today. Not like you at all."

"I didn't want to distract you while you were working." Novella nervously fidgeted with her glasses again.

"Why, it's no distraction. I enjoy your company." Undertaker looked over at her with one of his smirks. To anyone else they would seem creepy, but to her they were lovely and she found herself imagining that he only looked at her that way.

When had she fallen this hard for the peculiar white-haired shinigami? She'd read about him in the library and heard about him from the higher-ups. But when she had actually met, it was a completely different story. Gone was her image of a serious, intimidating, and stuck-up master to be replaced with this cackling mad man who preferred to rest in coffins.

She sighed and hopped down from the counter, heading to the side door. "Well I better head back before Will cuts my head off with that gardening tool of his."

"Leaving so soon?" Undertaker seemed genuinely upset. She was sad she had to go.

Novella gave him another halfhearted wave and was about to reach for the door handle when Undertaker stopped her, her orange coat in his fingers.

"You might want this, m'dear. It's rather cold out."

It's cold out…

Novella hustled along the rooftops, desperate to escape the piercing cold. She had long finished her assignment and was looking for Grell. He was supposed to meet her at the small café down the street since she'd forgotten her key to their home. But she'd waited for hours and he hadn't shown up. The weather had gone south, the temperature plummeting.

"Stupid Grell," she huffed as snow started to fall, impeding her already nearsighted vision, "Probably off harassing Bassy somewhere."

A particularly hard gust of wind and snow knocked her glasses off her face and sent her scrambling amongst the rooftop in a search for them.

"Looking for these, m'dear?" A person, very blurry without her corrective lenses, held out her orange framed glasses. She took them gratefully, placing them back on the bridge of her nose before shivering. She had dug through the snow and was now colder than before. She hugged herself tightly.

"Why don't you come inside? It's miserable out here and you could use something warm to drink." The stranger took her hand, dropping down with her onto the doorstep of a funeral parlor. He led her inside, covering her in a somewhat musty blanket.

"I'm the Undertaker by the way," the white-haired shinigami said as he prepared tea, "Who're you?"

"N-Novella Froid." She untied her pigtails, letting her long red hair flow down her back.

"Hm, you look an awful lot like old Grell. Are you two related?" Undertaker mused after he'd given her a cup and gotten one for himself.

Novella huffed. "No. I'm not related to that gender confused idiot."

"You just live together?"

"No! I mean, yes. Uh.." Undertaker had drifted close to her, his braid falling into her face.

Suddenly the door swung open, revealing an angry Grell.

"Just where have you been, Novella? I looked all over for you!" Grell shouted.

Novella jabbed an accusing finger at the other redhead. "You were the one who was late, Sutcliff!"

"Oh, well you see…Bassy needed my help and who was I to deny him?"

Novella sighed. "Save it. Let's just go home."

"Before you go," Undertaker went to his back room and reappeared with a beautiful orange coat that matched her ruffles and the ribbon in her hair, "Take this. One of my guests had it but I made it all pretty again and it would look good on you, m'dear."

Novella was speechless as she took the coat. She would treasure it always.

"Yes, it is rather cold isn't it?" Novella said, slipping her arms into the coat. The coat Undertaker had given her so long ago on their first meeting. The coat that was the beginning of many nights of discussion, dinners, trips to the library, nights out.

"The coat," Novella thought, "That's when I fell."

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