First and foremost, I would like to thank the first person who commented on chapter one of Undertake Apprentice and to the people who made me a favorite Author and put me on the alert of a new chapter. It really means the world to me, thank you so so much. Loves and Kisses and all that to you guys and to everyone afterwards who reads this story and comments and all that fun stuff.

FYI, I own none of the characters in this story except for my own character Layla and to be completely honest, I have no idea if this will follow any storyline of the original: Black Butler. I can promise nothing that I will follow the storyline or the actual plot of Black Butler. I made this on the intention of fullfilling a fantasy of the Undertaker (which by the way is really hot) and a made up character that he falls in love with if you have not already guessed. Whether or not this is to liking, I do hope you have fun reading this and feel free to comment and give me any ideas or critiques.

The next day, Layla pushed the door to the Undertaker's funeral home open and walked inside. "Under," she called out. "I brought muffins!" She held up the paper bag filled with delicious goodies, walking towards the counter, being mindful of the litter of coffins on the floor. "There's plenty of fla-" before she could finished the sentence, a long bony hand clamped over her mouth.

Undertaker moved down to whisper beside Layla's ear. "Be mindful of your voice dear," he drawled softly. "The guests are sleeping."

Layla twitched her nose in irritation. She smacked the hand away from her mouth and motioned to the coffins. "I see no guests here, Under," she spat. "The only thing I see if a litter of coffins!" She put her hands on her hips and turned to face him. "Honestly, the least you could do is put them upright. There would be more room to walk."

Layla sniffed and held out the bag of muffins. "Here. An apology for barging in on you, yesterday and making you help me with my dog." Under took the bag as if it was filled with atomic bombs and dropped it on the counter. "I found my dog, by the way," Layla continued. "He was in my garbage chewing on a chicken bone."

"For repayment, you could make me laugh," Under clapped his hands together and gave her a grin.

Layla wrinkled her nose in thought. What was with this man. If it was anyone else, they would have kicked her out for even coming back. "If I have 67 coconuts and 11 peanuts but my friend is allergic and I flip these pancakes at a ratio of seven to three, how many apples can I pick up with my mouth?"

Undertaker's grin slipped yet again with her joke and slowly started counting on his fingers. He even used his long nails to count with when he ran out of fingers. "17?" He looked up at her.

"No, silly," Layla shook her head. "You have two purple balls so that means you will be able to flip only three pancakes correctly while shoving your-" She cleared her throat, ears turning a nice shade of pink. "Nuts," Layla choked out. "Down your friend's throat and you will not be picking up the apples because your nuts have turned blue, it's zero!"

Done with the mouthful, Layla gave Undertaker a wide smile.

The Undertaker's already pale skin slowly turned from sickly gray to a cherry red making the chain like scar on his face more prominent. "Oh dear," he muttered, covering half of his face with a long hand. "It seems that the joke was far fetched."

Layla scrunches up her nose, and stepped closer to examine Under's features. She had thought she examined the man close enough, the first day she met him but she somehow had forgotten the long jagged scar running vertically from his forward and down to his jaw which then ended in a loop around his neck. Almost as if they were chains to shackle him.

Layla looked down at his waist and noted the circlet of lockets around his robes. She looked up again and took note of the singular silver braid and black earrings. "My," Layla mused. "It's a rock and roll priest. I wonder if those exists in America."

"I beg you pardon," Undertaker gasped. "I am a funeral director! Not some, s-some, bloody priest!"

"I would bet," Layla smiled. "But besides the matter, I would like to work here! I have no resume so you have to believe me when I say, I am just a learner and you will not regret taking me on."

"Wait just a moment, young lady,"

"But of course, I am not taking no for an answer, Under."

"Wait,"

"I will be here tomorrow, bright and early!"

"Wait!"

"Tata!" And with that, Layla walked out of the shop without letting the Undertaker utter another word.

Under stood there in the middle of his shop, staring at the door in shock. He had never in the long years of his life had someone else put him in that state. He put them in it, not the other way around.

He shook his head and walked over to a bookshelf that held a single black top hat that had seen better days and picked up. He placed it on his head and again glanced at the door under the curtain of silver hair, covering his eyes.

"Layla Evergrendale," he grinned. "What an interesting young lady."