A/N: LOLOLOLOL Lady K here with ma pal Scotland's Pond! Black butler whohaha! *runs around in a circle*Anyway peeps we are going to be writing this thang togedur and going to fuck things up with some of my cooking! Lady K's goal in life: NEVER TO MAKE SENSE!


"For the love of Jesus, Minny! How long does this fucking take?" Gwen muttered under her breath to the woman sitting next to her, missing the reproachful look her accomplice gave her as she brushed the thick and curly raven hair out of her yellow-green eyes.

Minerva rolled her eyes, which were the exact same shade, like every Shinigami, and muttered back, "Gwen, please be quiet. "

Someone behind them tittered and tapped the back of their bench. Oh bloody hell. God help that person, Minerva thought as she felt Guinevere tense up in her seat. She quickly grabbed her friend's arm and attempted to keep her from rising, but it was no use.

"What the the hell is wrong with you old lady?" Guinevere spat, standing up and turning around, twisting her arm out of Minerva's grip.

Minerva saw the years that they had spent lying low and never giving the townspeople of Cheshire a reason to doubt them slipping by.
The entire church goes silent as they gaze open mouthed at Guinevere's seething figure.

The old lady sitting behind recovered quickly and croaks back, "How dare you! This is Christmas Day in church, not some chattering tavern where you can talk all you'd like!"

Before Guinevere could draw breath to reply, Minerva stood up and displaying a quite surprising strength clapped a hand over the mouth of her not quite five feet tall friend and dragged her out.

Once they were outside, Guinevere was finally released and Minerva drew breath to scold her but the desperate plea that shone through her eyes stopped her.

She had never seen her friend get upset before. Guinevere had always been the emotionally stronger of the two female Shinigami. Minerva knew her friends matra was, emotions are a weakness, never let anybody see you cry, and Guinevere's personal favorite, you are a strong and independent woman! Act like it!.

Guinevere took a deep breath but before she could speak, Minerva interrupted her. "I don't want to hear any of your excuses, Gwen," she reprimanded, planting her hands on her hips. "We can't afford for you to blow this! That stupid buffon we call a supervisor already thinks we can't handle being dispatch officers, and you're not making him more confident in us. Do you want to get us stuck in General Affairs?!" Minerva slapped a hand to her forehead when she noticed the mischievous look that came across her friend's face. "What now?"

"Well..." Guinevere drew out the word as much as she could, brought her hands up to her face, and began drumming her fingers together evilly. "Why don't we request a transfer to London, my dear sister?" Minerva sighed thoughtfully. She hated Cheshire, she really did, but London was quite a large city and neither she nor Guinevere had ever been very far out of the English countryside, even in their human lives.

"Do you really, truly want to go to London?" the blonde finally asked, relenting a bit. "I mean, think about it. It might not be much different from here. You and I are still the only female dispatch officers in the entire country and we'll still face the kind of opposition we've faced here."

"But at least London isn't fucking boring," Guinevere whined, face drooping. "I bloody hate having a vagina."

"Language, my dear," Minerva warned in a sing-song voice. She was quite used to her friends vulgar vocabulary, courtesy of her deadbeat father, but that didn't stop her from trying to refine the woman, just a bit. "And if that's what you honestly think, I'll talk to the old bastard about getting us sent to London." There was a very good reason why Minerva wanted to be the one to talk to their supervisor; if it was Guinevere who did, he'd probably send them up to the Lochs to freeze their arses off in anger.

And Minerva hated the cold.

Guinevere pouted and then grinned showing off way too sharp canines, "Well maybe we don't have to ask him..." Minerva rolled her eyes.

"What do you have in mind?" She really hated Guinevere's ideas, she really did. But she hated having to talk to the old bastard even more.

"Weeeell, you know how we barely do anything here, and if we even are called in, all we do is file shit?" Minerva nodded warily, not wanting to know just where Guinevere was going with this. "I'm pretty sure if we left today, nobody would miss us! We can say that this work is just too much strain on our poor feminine bodies and we couldn't handle any more of this gore!" She held up a tiny hand to her forehead, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Minerva bit her lip. She knew that the two male Shinigami that were stationed there and the old bastard would totally eat that up, being very skeptical of the strength of the female race. Guinevere's ideas (for once) actually had some merit.
Seeing the thoughtful look on Minerva's face, her nose wrinkled up cutely, Guinevere smiled to herself. She was going off on an adventure. The first one she'd ever been on!

"There's still the matter of how we'll get authorization to work at the London Dispatch," Minerva pointed out, pushing her bright purple spectacles up the bridge of her nose.

"That, my dear Minny, is why forgery was invented," Guinevere replied without missing a beat. "I can just quickly make up some transfer paperwork on my typewriter."

"God, I can't believe we're going to do this..." Guinevere's face brightened greatly at her friend's words.

"Does that mean we can go?!" she prompted, her large eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Yeah, we can go. But if we get caught, this crap was all your idea."

"Isn't it always?" Guinevere's grin would have scared even the toughest of demons. "Come on, Minny, don't worry so much! Isn't that old bastard always saying that London is understaffed? They'll probably be grateful for the extra help."

"Yeah, grateful for us, indeed..." Minerva muttered under her breath.