Change: Grell's P.O.V.

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I hummed to calm myself down, striding around the room without much on, because looking at myself in the mirror made me feel a little sick. Will's countless rejections were really making me wonder why I kept bothering.

My suitcase was still empty even after rifling through my closet a million times. What do you wear to an executive's office? Even though he seemed to take to me, I couldn't help feeling like I was in big trouble.

Things rarely made me nervous like this. Being nervous gave me the most unattractive coloring.

In the middle of Saturday, Ronald knocked on my door and offered some help. Somebody must have heard me stomping around and sent him up to check. I didn't want to push my stress on him because he got so flipping mad when I did that, but I let him come in anyway and tried to keep my temper at a simmer. All of my dresses had been confiscated by William a long time before then. The one I wore to the party, I had to buy brand-new. I really hate that man sometimes.

That night, after all my things were packed and I sent Ronald away, I had a minute to sit in the dark and think about the recent events. Reminded me of a dramatic play I'd been reading. Some changes had gone down around the office quite a few months after the demon Sebastian's sudden disappearance; the hand of a god cracked down on all of us, and by that I mean me, making strict revisions to the already decent dress code. I was allowed to wear my beautiful red coat "the proper way" in the autumn and winter months, was given a new one for spring and summer (it was a hideously dark red), and my hair was to be put up when I was on duty. They wanted me to cut it but I threw a conniption. Apparently my work before I had been growing it out was twelve times more efficient that it became when it was long, and that was my department's reasoning. Nonsense, I tell you.

It became a little harder to keep my cute appearance after that. I only put it on because of the absolute swell of handsome new co-workers I was assigned when the interns became official~ Regardless, over time I noticed they were still obsessed with the women, though the ones they liked most stayed behind the glass panels and did no real work at all. I've always thought the lazy ones were unattractive.

Still, it had always been that way. I figured if I resembled the ladies, but cuter, eyes would turn to me instead. And they did. For all the wrong reasons. Nothing even came to fruition, and Will never seemed to get any closer. All that time I spent trying to be sweet backfired; everyone forgot my scores in practical skill, I think, and started to treat me like I was weaker than a rock. If I looked the slightest bit upset, Ronald and his creepy little friends would flock to me nervously as if I was about to cry. I liked the attention and even pretended to prize it, but in honesty, all I wanted to do was smack them.

I loved the dresses- I loved the attractiveness- I loved having all eyes on me, but to the ends of the earth did I hate the air of weakness that inevitably came to match. A woman can be strong and empowered. Madame Red reminded me of that, and having to put away her jacket for most of the year made me want to tear the entire department down.

I'll tell you, for your entertainment, the utter rubbish I was given for a new main wardrobe. My scythe was a boring old blade since I complained about the scissors. The scythekeepers told me I can check back every week to see if my old model, the one I used with Madame Red, was approved yet. I now had a red variety shirt, too dark for anyone's liking, repaired glasses with black arms and the skulls minimized (they wanted to remove them but with a little convincing, they only shrunk them), and a thin black tie for my hair. They allowed me to wear my black pants and shoes, since the bottoms covered the heels. I do make one small customization- using the black ribbon from Madame Red's jacket instead of the hair tie. It calmed me down a little when I caught my reflection at the first fitting.

In the end I didn't even wear all of my assigned clothes. At the risk of getting fired or demoted, I wore what I liked, or what I had left that they didn't confiscate from me. I knew they couldn't do much to me. Everyone knows what a triple A means to them.

Sitting on my bed that evening with those ugly clothes packed away, I could feel my stomach churning as waves of anger and regression came over me. Ronald insisted I wear my uniform when I visit the executive offices. Maybe it didn't even fit anymore.

I hadn't felt like myself until that party the night before, and now, I was going to have to pay for it.

…Then again, maybe a few days away from the department would reset me. I was still myself. I didn't want to go back to the way I used to be- violent and unnerving, like Will had become (as much as I adore him). The thing I dreaded most was one of my friends starting to notice that I was acting unusual.

It wasn't until the last minute that I made another decision. 11:39 PM, set to leave for the train, I grabbed an old journal from my bookshelf- one from a few years ago, detailing my own personal golden age of this place- and shoved it in with the clothes. It would help to have a reminder of when I wasn't at risk of coming down from such a pleasant and worry-free cloud.

That journal held all of my musings from when Will was still a fresh wound in me. I loved him, everything about him, even when he treated me as little more than nothing. He was easily the most handsome man I'd ever met. He had the strength to stand up to me when no one else dared to. I had never been put in my place like that.

But in the end, after all of my endeavors to get him to turn back again, notice the small things I had altered with him in mind, nothing changed. That journal was history, however wonderful. If he wanted no part of me, then so be it- what a waste of my time. How disappointing.

As if on cue, I heard a knock at my door.

I snapped at it without thinking. "Go away, Ron. I'm done packing."

"It's not Ronald. It's William."

His muffled voice startled me. "Will? What are you doing here? I don't need you to escort me anymore."

"You figured out your way just like that?"

I was not in the mood to be tested. "That's right."

The door clicked open anyway. He knew I would say whatever it took to get him to go away. But suddenly he wanted to make sure he was with me the whole way to the train.

I only stared at him for a few moments; I decided it would just waste time to argue, and headed out the door, him following quietly behind.

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"You're wearing the red coat and I didn't even suggest it. And your hair is up, too."

"Ronald suggested that. Both of those," I said. It was cold and the mood wasn't set for talking about these stupid things. I only wanted to get my punishment over with. "I want to make sure you all look good and that I won't say anything at your expense."

Will nodded, ignoring how accusingly I'd said that. "How's your hangover?"

"I faked it, Will."

I didn't turn back. Whether he was grinning or frowning, I'd just get angry.

A red train loomed on a nearby road, only a few minutes' walking distance. Streetlights lit in a calming yellow helped the tension inside me, but the expressionless shadow matching my every step was becoming irritating quickly.

Something must have snapped, and I whipped around. "Could you go home?"

"I am escorting you to the train."

"You are escorting me to the traaaaaain," I chimed in my most sarcastic voice accompanied with the rudest impression I could manage. "Don't patronize me. I can follow an in-between set of street lamps."

Of course, I faced forward again and noticed I'd veered onto the grass.

He droned on. "You don't need to get so testy. I know you dislike the rules we've established, and you're angry with me, but this is off the clock. You wore that coat under your own decision."

Had I? I thought Ronald told me to, and it wasn't really off the clock, because I was still heading to work in a different area and made to wear something to impress them and act in a way to impress them and shove my nose so far up their arses that I wondered why Will didn't take my place and explain later because his nose practically lived inside the higher-ups' arses and he could handle it better than I could. He stared through me, taunting me to say that out loud.

This wasn't about the clothes anyway. But why would I bother saying that?

I pulled my coat up over my shoulders.

Silence consumed the air for a minute.

"…I know you must think I'm using you as a pawn, but I'm not, Grell."

My eyes flitted back at him, unamused. "What?"

He adjusted his glasses. "Your attitude lately is not top-notch, but even I can understand why and have a little sympathy. You were all excited to go on this trip, and now you're not."

I shrugged. "There was time to think about it. He probably wants to punish me or study me, or something."

Will's eyes widened. "I highly doubt that. In fact, he seemed to want you to go for something… positive. To tell you the truth…" A thin white crept onto his face. "…He wanted you to go at first because he thought you were a woman, and-"

"So for something romantic?"

"Er… most likely. Then I informed him of your gender-"

"Thanks for ruining it for me," I mumbled.

"-and he still seemed just as interested."

I must have looked back a little too eagerly, because his words sped up.

"Therefore I'm not really comfortable with you going, because Fitzpatrick is always strange-seeming in a lot of ways, but in case it is of some importance, I can't risk keeping you behind."

"Heh. So you're jealous?"

I said it casually, but after I did, the satisfied feeling that swelled in my heart was wonderful. Jealously. That's exactly what that sounded like. For once, William actually had a problem with my (potentially) romantic affairs. I didn't have a single speck of interest in that Jacob, yet this was unfolding right before me- and, it was working well.

But he didn't even stutter. "Not at all. I'm only concerned about the lack of formality that would ensue, should this be a careless meeting, and…"

So many stupid excuses spilled out within the next minute that we'd reached the station and he was still talking. A few strays lined the little waiting hut, but besides that, the station was rather empty for a Saturday night.

I hoisted my bag up and, rubbing my forehead, decided that this had gone on long enough.

"Ahhhh, Will, a little less conversation. It's practically midnight."

"Yes, but I just want to make it clear why you are going on this silly little—"

A kiss on the cheek silenced him as it usually does.

He recovered and started in again. "How many times do I need to tell you that I don't want you to do that?"

"As many times as I want to kiss you." I waved my hand. "See you next week."

He grabbed my wrist. "Hold on. I just want to remind you..."

The sentence lingered.

"…Don't do anything foolish. Please."

"Huh." I pulled my wrist back. "If you want a right to be concerned, then quit selling me short and take me on. You know- off the clock."

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Sitting in a minimal-comfort train car, I thought carefully, and decided those weren't the best parting words for a man I claimed to be over.

I tried to relax, but had to keep wondering how far I could have moved on from someone that I still, even then, could not go a single day without wanting.