"Tell me something funny," he drawled. Layla squinted her eyes at him, trying to take his appearance in from the oddly length of silver hair that ran down his long frame to the fact that he was wearing a dark robe. And his fingernails were painted along with a curtain of silver hair covering half of his would be handsome face.
"What worse," Layla started. "Three children in one garbage can, or one child in three garbage cans?"
The man pause, the grin he sported on his face falling. "That is a bit dark for a little lady like you."
"Yes," Layla snipped. "But after being raised in an orphanage, I figure that having a dash of dark in the world will not hurt anyone."
The man huffed and pushed off from the desk counter he was leaning on. "What can I help you with, young lady?" He tilted his head. "No one ever comes in here to visit dead bodies."
"I'm looking for a dog," Layla separated her hands enough to show an example of size. "About this wide; a tiny terror really."
He paused. "This is a shop for dead bodies. Not dogs."
Layla wrinkled her nose. "Is that another statement where you can not help me?"
"Yes,"
"Damn it."
He grinned. "But I can help you with bodies. This one," he pointed a long bony finger to one of the large coffins resting on the floor. "Had his brains blown out by a straw. That one," he pointed to a coffin on the far side. "Is currently being eaten by maggots!" He clapped his hands together like a child on the day of Christmas Eve that was given a toy car. But this little boy was given dead bodies.
"No," Layla shook her head of blond curls. "That will be all." She made her way towards the door. "I shal be back tomorrow, Mr..." she trailed off.
"Undertaker,"
"Mr. Under," she nodded her head.
Undertaker shook his head. "Undertaker,"
"That name is too long!" Layla opened the door and looked back at him and gave him a small curtesy and a smile. "Have a nice day, Under." With the small farewell, she walked through the door, letting it shut behind her.