William Spears made his way through the bustling Shinigami headquarters with a stern brow and rail-straight posture. His polished shoes clacked on the marble floor in a steady percussion, drawing the attention of all co-workers in the area as a warning of their boss' proximity. They either braced themselves or pretended to be working diligently as they felt his appraising eyes scanned the quarters. Mr. Spears derived great pleasure from his ability to instill morale into his staff. However, his small moment of satisfaction was shattered when he saw the telltale mess of red that was Grell parade into the office with a distressed looking Ronald in tow.

"Mr. Sutcliff, what have you been up to? You have twelve-," the room gasped quietly, "yes, twelve reports post-due to my office."

"Ohhhhhh, Will! You shouldn't expect me to be caught DEAD doing something so dull as PAPERWORK! I've been working hard you knoooow..." As he said this, drops of blood trailed down his chainsaw and splattered against the floor. Unknowing of this, he blew a kiss to William and slipped on the shiny red puddle beneath him.

"Grell, I am not going to argue with you. You WILL have those reports done by noon this fortnight. Or I will confiscate yours and Mr. Knox's deathscythes."

Ronald gasped and made pleading gestures, knowing this was going to end in mountains of overtime on his shoulders. Grell grabbed onto William's suit and pouted, begging and rubbing his hands obscenely up and down his boss' chest. He responded by landing a well placed smack of his pruning shears against the redhead's sharp nose. Grell fell back sprawling into the pool of blood, pulling Ronald down with him.

"WILL! That is no way to treat a LADY! I will have you know that the face is an actress' greatest tool! Don't you dare walk away from me, Will-ee~..."

William sighed and left the two to untangle themselves.

Sitting alone in his office, Mr. Spears filled out form after form for the death records. Name, date of birth, date of death, cause of death, survivors... It all began to meld in his mind, so he tilted back in his chair and rubbed his temples. This work is so monotonous... Yet soothing. I can't even remember a day when work wasn't my only vice...
He sighed and refocused himself, cracking his neck and knuckles, re-wetting his quill for another round of paperwork. As he aligned the next stack of paperwork, he noticed one of his desk drawers was ajar. Curious, he pulled the drawer out. Inside sat a small black bottle with a white lace tie around the neck and attached a small note with swirling calligraphy. He wondered if he ought to report this before even touching it, but impulse got the better of him. He gently extricated the bottle, and judging by the weight and coolness it was made of glass. William propped up the tag and read it:

"Drink me."

His brow furrowed and he flipped the tag over. On the other side it read, "From a friend. To a man in need." Mr. Spears frowned. Who sent me this? I'm not "in need" of anything... Especially anything liquid that comes from an unmarked container... He straightened his glasses out of habit, and decided to pocket it as evidence for now. Anyone audacious enough to sneak into his office and prank him like this deserved harsh reprimand.

After his paperwork was complete, William made his way home to his modest industrial-style apartment. The bottle he had discovered tugged at his mind, much like how the sloshing vial weighed down his pocket.

Tomorrow I'm going to get to the bottom of this. If I tolerate one break-in, it's an invitation to anyone.

Slamming his door, Mr. Spears shut out the night leaving himself in the peace of solitude.