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When was Susan knocked out cold she was a much more agreeable person Teatime found.

Using his foot he propped back up a fallen chair, sitting her down. Her limbs crumpled to the side with nothing to hold them up like a marionette with unattended strings. He used one hand on her shoulder to hold up her right side, with the other he pulled a length of rope from his coat.

Starting with her right he fastened her ankle to the chair's leg, moving to repeat the process with the left. He thought about removing her boots, sharp baneful heels, but simply restraining them would suffice for now.

Jonathan walked to the back of the kitchen chair, keeping a firm hand on Susan's shoulder, lest she slip right out of the seat. Crouching down he made to wrap the rope around her waist slipping his hand from her shoulder down her side to bring the rope back through. The action might have resembled an embrace to the casual observer before Teatime pulled back the ends of the rope and tied them firmly to the furniture.

Rising he looked down over her shoulder into her lap. Her wrists were unbound. He doubted she could untie the knots with her hands sliced up like that, but he wasn't so quick to underestimate her again. So he bent over her shoulders. Resting his head on her own as he tied both wrists together.

Susan's head lolled back as he stood. Hair as he remembered it, snowy and hurricane-swept. Teatime pulled his fingers through it before letting her head fall haplessly to the right.

With Susan taken care of he returned to his sword reaching down to pluck it back up.

There was nothing to do with her out cold and he didn't think Grandfather Death was upstairs.

The children were still out in the parlor. He could hear them banging around. He could hear them. He could hear.

Teatime let a wave of sound wash over him. Susan's trick had expired once she lost consciousness.

So the children…

He crept to the doorway footsteps falling silently peering out into the living room. The children had forgone noisy stocking stuffers for ripping open packages. Tearing shiny paper to bits and throwing empty boxes about the room.

Amid the rustling paper Teatime heard another sound. Someone coming down the stairs.

No several someones. A whole party of adults.

One brilliant black blur traveled to the top of the stairwell.

Mr. Gaiter was a considerably taller man, but it didn't take much to push him off balance and forward.

In a morbidly marvelous display of human dominoes, Mr. Gaiter slammed into Mrs. Gaiter before bashing his head off the banister. Mrs. Gaiter arms flailing wildly at her sides, looking more like she was trying to fly off then regain her balance, tripped into the maid. Both women tumbled down to the bottom step in a horrible parody of leap frog. Mrs. Gaiter faired better in the landing. The poor maid breaking her fall and quite possibly her neck.

The youngest members of the household were brought out of their reverie by the crashing grownups.

Gawain looked to his sister for answers. Twyla undisturbed by the racket went back to the spoils of Hogswatch. Her little brother, less then assured, took hold of her night gown. Tugging urgently. "Twyla! The noise coming down-".

She brushed him off impatiently taking critical inventory of her gifts, making sure Hogfather hadn't stiffed her one item off that list. "Oh its probably just a bogey, Susan'll-"

"But Susan is upstairs!"

That gave Twyla pause. They could shout for her, but that would wake up mother and father. She made a dramatic show of sighing as she rose. Fetching a poker from the fireplace, snatching up Gawain's hand, and pulling him towards the stairwell.

They'd expected a doddering old horned monster, not an arm. Not the maids arm hanging over the bottom step.

"She Must've fell…"

The pair approached cautiously the rest of the steps slowly coming into view. The maid's other arm was bent back behind her in what couldn't be a comfortable position. One leg had gotten tangled through the railing, the second was sticking straight up, the third was…

The third was-

"Mommy?" Gawain asked moving to check on his mother, jumbled up as badly as their servant.

Twyla squeezed his hand hard, yanking him back to her side. When he turned to question his sister he found her head directed past mother, eyes climbing the stairwell.

Father was propped up by the guard rail, arms slung over the sides, knees tucked under him. Red dripping down the bridge of his nose.

Higher still stood another adult all done out in black.

Gawain stepped behind Twyla as the man favored them with a winning smile.

"Hello".

Twyla's poker clanged as it dropped to the ground.

Teatime had just finished putting up the household making sure to shut the basement door behind him. He thought it rude to rush, but he had other matters to attend to.

Namely Susan. Who'd been out for nearly an hour now. When he made it back into the kitchen he found her still very much not awake. She had a trying night and suffered several distressing blows, but hardly a concussion. The most sensible thing to do in this situation would be to wait until she came to.

Naturally he fetched a glass of cold water and dumped it over her head.

He watched Ms. Sto Helit test out the binds as he pulled up a chair of his own. She recognized him, he could practically see their tête-tête replaying across her features as she remembered. Placing his glass on the table he shrugged off his coat. Jonathan gave her a moment to say something, but she just regarded him warily.

She had pulled her wrists up to her chin, distracted. Teatime dropped his gaze from Susan's face and took possession of her hands. He hadn't bothered nor cared to bandage the wounds. So it took very little manipulation to reopen them, coaxing out blood flow.

Susan tried to pull back her hands at his painful ministrations, but his grip was rigid. She began to tug forcibly when-

He lowered his mouth to her palms. And her wrists went slack.

It wasn't quite a kiss. She thought it very chaste until he parted his lips. Raising his head Jonathan's tongue swept outside his mouth, counterclockwise.

She watched this in morbid fascination unable to turn to away, but not quite able to process what she could not turn away from. With a thoughtful expression on his face Teatime placed her bound extremities back onto her lap.

"What are yo-", then deciding just as quickly she did not want to know, "Untie me right now".

He didn't appear to be paying attention though, rather he was considering how she tasted. Which was not at all different then what he had previously experienced. Jonathan wasn't sure whether or not that was a disappointment yet. At the return of her scowl however he turned back to her.

"I thought…that something like that was supposed to make it feel better" he drawled out sarcastically, well aware by now Susan did not like to be treated like a child.

"And do I feel better?" she snorted.

She could tell by the little smirk he thought he'd been very clever. Not amused or impressed Susan instead turned her attention elsewhere. Eyes seeking out the sword. He wasn't holding it. It wasn't by his side, in his lap, or on the table...

Teatime saw her eyes flicker about annoyed, but not as furious as she had been previously. Her hair, drenched, plastered to her face. "I imagine you'd feel-" he reached out taking a handful of hair and wringing the locks of water. Which proceeded to pour down over her soaking her clothes further."Cold".

Her teeth chattered. Dress shirt clinging to her skin effectively vacuum sealing her in a tight chilly vice.

"You know" His hand found the collar of her vest, releasing the top button and starting on the second. "You could catch your death"

Susan whipped her head to the side, hair slopping the icy water into his face. "I'm quite comfortable" she assured him serenely. In all actuality she was freezing. Winter air becoming biting as it came in contact with her damp clothes. The draft coming in from under the window-

The draft? The wind? There wasn't supposed to be any- Her mouth went dry at the terrible realization. Her eyes becoming round.

He had been up and about with-

"Oh yes the children-" Teatime brought his sleeve up to dry his face, watching Susan turn to the living room. Her neck spun back around so fast he had suspicions it might've snapped or gone the full 360.

"What have you done?"

"To or with?" Susan was very rude. He was certain there was a puddle behind his eye now. And once something got in there he had a hell of a time getting it out.

He smacked the back of his skull popping out the glass orb.

"The children!" Susan demanded severely concerned and entirely caught off guard by Teatime's grooming.

"Gawain and Twyla" he offered dabbing inside the empty socket.

"Their names?" How had he come by-?

"Of course the whole family was up to greet me, I met briefly with their parents" He rubbed the eye on his coat drying. "It wasn't a very long reception".

"Reception?" she questioned softly.

"There wasn't room for any real-" blowing on his false before buffing it with his sleeve, "Pleasantries", he finished popping back in his left eye.

"Wh-" She tried to decipher what he meant behind his vague seemingly innocent explanation. "Why?" her eyebrow rose.

"Well your Grandfather will be here soon" he beamed both eyes back in place.

Her blood ran cold. What did he mean by her grandfather would be here soon? For whom?

"I didn't have much time and-" Teatime leaned into her draining face "I wanted to spend it with you Susan" he smiled as if she should be pleased he'd set aside said time.

Her eyes smoldered in a way that any lesser lunatic would have taken his leave just then. As quickly as possible in the opposite direction. This lunatic was quite confident in his abilities at the moment however. One arm reached behind him pulling out Death's Sword. His eyes traveled up and down the blade.

"I'm sure you could come up with something creative" he brought the sword down, a sick whizzing sound sharp against her ear "But I still have your grandfather's sword"

He tapped her hands, both shoulders, and then turned to return the sword behind the chair. "And there are only so many flesh wounds someone can endure before-"

When he turned back to Susan he found her injured hands raised in one balled first.

She hauled off smacking him hardacross the face. This sending Teatime crashing sideways to the floor. Triumphant, but still restrained Susan lifted her binds to her mouth. Jaw determined, chewing, biting, and gnawing with purpose.

Teatime smiled into the floor, he let his eyelids close slowly, before snapping them open with their own malevolent purpose. Moving up like a serpent unnoticed by Susan.

Grasping behind both bound feet he wrenched the chair's legs forward, sending her seat and all crashing backwards to the floor.

The sudden impact caused Susan to bite down on her tongue. She winced flat on her back and having gotten nowhere with her binds. Her vision was greatly obscured now as well. Her legs bound up above her on the raised chair's legs. He grasped her kneecap pulling himself into a sitting position.

When she caught sight of his face all traces of the animated loquacious man were gone.

There was instead a silence more unnerving then any of his threats.

His gaze was intent. A stare so heavy she could almost feel its weight as a hand closing around the column of her throat. "Ms. Sto Helit you know I'd hoped we might be friends" The word 'friends' managed to carry more venom then the previous suggestions regarding flesh wounds.

"I really think we might get along better" There was a brief twitch in the hand resting on her knee cap as he ground that out. She could feel the fingers begin to rise undoubtedly to reach back for the sword. "If I removed them".

Then all at once his murderous scrutiny floated back to his hand.

The one clasping her kneecap. Her now exposed kneecap.

After the chair had fallen her skirts, as gravity dictated, had fallenback over her hips leaving her legs open to the elements.

Teatime brought both of their attentions to the subject. Susan attempted to push them back up, but couldn't reach far enough. The skirt and slip continuing to drop until she fisted her hands in the cloth. Teatime regarded Susan's futile attempt mutely.

Using his fingertips he pinched the hem of the skirt and slip pulling them back himself. He'd been right on both accounts. Susan wore stockings and a garter belt. He absently let go of her garments letting them fall right over her face.

Jonathan fingered the thin strip of black cloth following the bridge from her knickers to her, naturally, black stockings. "I hoped we could pass the time" He found the second supportive strip on the back of her thigh "With civil conversation"

Teatime brought himself over her legs to see her drowning in starched petticoats. Looking down her face and fisted hands promised death and dismemberment, but Jonathan found there was plenty to amuse himself with up here.

"But this could be... entertaining as well"

He ran a finger down the length of one leg, still clothed in the thin stocking. They certainly didn't make dolls like this.And Susan did appear to have all necessary anatomy...

With the other hand Teatime snapped one of the garter's hooks letting the stocking loosen. The second followed shortly after. His eyebrows rose in a brief flash as the stocking jumped now free of the restraints, before bunching up leaving Susan's thigh bare.

There were some muffled protests from under the pile of skirts, but he didn't pay them any mind.

Jonathan attentively slid his fingertips under the nylon. Slowly rolling it up as he peeled it down her leg. When he reached her ankle he tucked the stocking into the boot.

That accomplished he let his hand travel back over the skin he'd just exposed, caressing the smooth flesh from the calve back to the garter belt. My wasn't Susansoft. He lowered his head brushing his cheek against the curve to enjoy that softness.

Almost pining for his violence Susan fought her way out of her dressings gasping for air.

"Stop- What're?- Stop!". How he'd switched from the one activity to this other had her reeling. At one point she suspected he meant to sever her leg, but after he'd finished playing with her undergarments he took to-

The bastard was- he was rubbing his face over her knees.

"So this is how you get your jollies then? By tying women up and molesting them?" The denigration tactic had worked splendidly before, even if she didn't have a ledge at her disposal this time. She struggled to wiggle her toes in her boot, if she could get her foot out-

With one finger he pulled back the garter belt, much like a rubber band, letting it snap back into her skin painfully. He eyed the other leg.

"No, I've tied lots of women up" He sat back taking in Susan's position "And I can honestly say I've never tried this before". He watched her joints move like she were a cat about to pounce on something.

She could feel his curls tickling as he moved to remove the other stocking. Susan wasn't able to do much with her legs due to the restrictions, but she could jerk her knees. Erratically working her legs she successfully dislodged Teatime's unwanted hands before he was able to unhook the second garter.

At the loss of sensation Susan hoped he might have lost interest. She couldn't see him over the chair or her protruding legs, but tried to strain her neck. When she felt his hands wrapping around her ankles she let her head drop back with a thud. Rolling her eyes and attempting to kick out her leg. Of course that was about as effective as trying to stand up at this point.

His hands left her ankles to grip her knees, sliding his hold down uncomfortably close to her thighs. Susan continued to jerk them side to side. She didn't find this contact any more welcome, but she assumed if she kept his hands preoccupied long enough he'd have to give up or be drawn into a new mind game.

Then she felt his mouth on the back of her leg undoing the remaining hook. Teatime took the stocking in his teeth, drawing it down like he had the other.

He couldn't possibly have just done that.

Stunned or bemused she suddenly became engrossed with the ceiling. Teatime meanwhile repositioned himself in front of Susan's legs now able to run his hands up and down either.

In truth he had never done anything like this before. He had Ms. Bottler tied up earlier, but she'd been gagged. His features tensed as he remembered the incessant babbling. But if he gagged Susan he might miss out on her little pithy repartee. Then again he hadn't been with a lady in some time. He didn't come in contact with many of them. There wasn't much time for females in The Assassins Guild. Usually when he wasn't out on a contract, he was studying.

His hands continued their traveling in a slow looping repetition. Their movement methodic even as Susan's legs had stopped any movement a while ago. Which made seeing past her knees a lot easier. Everything was silky and pale as far as he could see except. Except. The small black speck above the left garter.

Susan tried to be practical about this. She tried to ignore the situation at first. She tried to follow the faults of cracking paint above her. She tried to wait him out. She tried to come up with some sort of plan. More importantly she continued her attempts to work on undoing the knot at her hands. A noble venture hindered if only by the fact every time she got the rope into her mouth. She couldn't manage to keeping her jaw clamped down. She couldn't stop her jaw from...opening.

An entirely unwilled visceral action, that was not in any way, shape or form a moan.

And if it wasn't the…jaw spasms…it was the shivering. Though her clothes were still soggy and chilled, she was anything but cold. In fact the heat was becoming insufferable. She panted, managing to make it look more like she was put out and annoyed then a lovers sigh.

A freckle on the inner thigh. He leaned in to scrutinize it further. His fingers sliding forward with him. At the touch of his hands, far too close to her innermost region, Susan started to shift her legs about once more.

So using one hand he gripped the bottom of her upper leg, shaking it briskly, before bringing it to his face. Pulling the thigh as far as he could with her person secured to the chair.

Teatime was a lot stronger then she wanted to admit, with both seat and governess rising ever so slightly higher in his exploratory pursuit. Yet this new angle opened a new window of opportunity. She made quick use of her right knee. Taking aim and slamming it back into his Blonde curls. Keeping his eye on the dot, his arm shot out to capture the attacking limb, yanking it back so violently it was a miracle he didn't pop it out of its socket.

Then sitting back on his heels, he rose up, coming into view well over Susan's lap.

Ms. Sto Helit's hair was disheveled, sticking to her cheeks and the floor. Her skirts were rumpled over her in disarray, hiding her hands. She'd dug her teeth into the rope, eyes trained on the ceiling. She was pointedly ignoring him, but he wasn't terribly troubled by that.

He skimmed his hands down her thighs until he reached her hips. Fingers grazing either side his gaze fell between. Jonathan was fairly certain he'd had all the fun that was to be had fooling from heel to hip bone. Correction, there was one part of Susan he hadn't played with yet.

The heat of his gaze, its direction as well, brought back her undivided attention. Susan, with great effort, pulled herself up on her elbows. Eyes boring into his skull until his own met hers.

"Don't. you. dare" there was a deep echoing quality to her voice again. A deadly foreboding note that any normal person would never want to encounter again. Audacity challenged, Teatime wanted nothing more then to see if he could hear her vocalize that pitch again and again and agai-

Thus the threat did nothing to deter and everything to inspire. Why he must be doing something right to elicit that vocal a response. Settling himself back between her legs he raked his nails over the sides of her knickers, tracing the seams. His index fingers found themselves inside her waist band, thumbs trailing over the fabric. Digits making their way the short distance to the center excruciatingly slow.

The natural urge to arch her back was hindered by the rope binding her to the chair, blessedly. Intent on not giving him the satisfaction, even if he may have given her some.

Taking his sweet time Jonathan was paying careful attention to the fit Susan was working herself to. This was very similar to torture in that he simply had to apply pressure until the subject couldn't sustain any longer. Usually before that happened they would do or say whatever it was he wanted from them. What Susan would do when she reached her limit was particularly alluring. He could make out faint stifled sounds, but nothing too definitive as his knuckles brushed her navel. It had been awhile but he remembered there was a certain…closing call. A loud, impassioned upheaval. His thumbs arrived at her lips with a serious studious determination.

Her body convulsed so spectacularly she thought if the binds around her waist weren't removed she'd snap her spine in half. It was not a release. Every muscle in her body tensed, sending a crushing tidal wave of pressure up her neck to her head. Mind numbing and infuriating.

She cursed her parents for not being able to keep their hormones in check, the human race for creating that ludicrous gift giving boar, her grandfather for purposely getting her into this mess in the first place, the sword; damnable twisted hunk of metal for her hands, those blasted wizards for waking him up, these wretched bonds for not coming undone, and because it felt so bloody good.

Her howl went up like black swear and a sweet hymn.

Susan was, without a doubt, the best Hogswatch present he'd ever received Jonathan decided. He hadn't even gotten her knickers off yet. Letting out bursts of sharp giggles ,just so lost in awful victorious glee, Teatime almost missed the first stirring down the cellar over Susan's boisterous eruption. But not the second. He paused, the stilling alerting Susan even as she surfaced from her discomfiture.

"Oh good he's arrived" she made out his soft enthused words.

He's arrived? Who? He was waiting for someone? Her Grandfather. Her Grandfather was here? Her Grandfather was here!

Horrified at what Granddad seeing her in this position would entail. What he would assume, worse, what he would be right in assuming, the awkward encumbrance that would surely follow-

Susan didn't have to worry about any of that however because as Jonathan sat back he pulled her skirts back up. Fixing them about her legs, and draping them back over her shins as if he were covering up a display case.

Leaving her he pulled back on his coat, patting down his pockets to make sure his knives were in place.

Susan, thrown by his sudden disappearance mistakenly let her guard down. So that it was so very jarring when he sprung back over the chair. Knees bent between her thighs. Palms slapping the floor, propping arms at either side of her head holding him up above her.

"I'm afraid I have to take my leave now, my guest has arrived" before Susan could protest he bent his arms, face dropping down to meet hers.

His lips landed firmly upon her own. And while her mouth had been open, in mild shock, it had not been an invitation for him to slide his tongue in. Twirling the thing, clockwise this time, over and under her tongue and back over her lips.

She tried to use her balled hands to push away his chest, but he was gone. Rolling over into what appeared to be a cartwheel, he snatched up the sword exiting the kitchen.

Alone Susan released a long heaving sigh letting her eyelids droop. Tapped for strength, after the very last Hogswatch she ever intended to observe, she might have surrendered to sleep if not for the fluttering of wings overhead.

He had not expected to see Susan's house again so soon. She did like to be left alone and he respected that as he respected her mother's wishes. It was duty that called him here, a Mrs. Price. But perhaps after he finished he might drop in, he had meant to give her the card. Albert assured him that their Susan would appreciate the human gesture.

There was just the business of Mrs. Price.

Down in the cellar?

That did seem out of sorts. The maid was sprawled in one corner of the basement. Respectfully, he nudged the woman's shoulder with his scythe. Her translucent figure followed. Unaware of the imposing skeletal guest behind her she poured over her body frantically. "Oh I can't be sleeping, I've got to have supper ready-"

"Mrs. Price?" The servant turned at the sound of her name.

"Y-you! No I- stairs...I was-" her explanation died away with her spirit.

Inspecting the corpse Death could see that Mrs. Price had taken quite the spill. Her neck was bent at an odd right angle, arm twisted behind her, and her leg was shattered. There was a pathway in the layer of dirt coating the floor. She'd obviously been dragged. He followed the trail to the steps up to the house.

She mentioned stairs. But if she had fallen down the basement steps, why had she been in the corner. How did she get there? Who would have? Death turned to look around. There wasn't a lantern, but enough morning light filtered through a small window to make out the faint outline of other people. A small family tied up to the water pipes running all over the floor. A disconcerting sight indeed.

"Susan"

She was not among these humans, but this was her home. He climbed the stairs, opening the door to another grander stairwell. There was liquid pooling down over the final step. Crouching down he traced the substance with a long finger, red. Blood.

As he stood he met a belt buckle. Continuing to rise he found a black collar, a pale throat, and two mismatched eyes. Looking down from his full height Death regarded the young man imperiously. He was holding a sword. He was holding his sword.

Susan.

The man didn't appear to be surprised or distressedto see him, which was very out of sorts. "Hello, I'm Jonathan Te-" He started to welcome him, very rehearsed, but friendly.

"Mr. Te-A-Ti- Me" Dry, formal, and expectant. He had a vague knowledge of all mortals, but this one had no reason to be here.

Jonathan's eyes lit up immensely pleased "You got it right". Overcome with excitement he reached out to take Death's hand, shaking it eagerly, not at all bothered it was still covered in the blood Death had wiped off the steps.

"Of Course" He wanted to know where his granddaughter was. "And tell me, why you are here?"

"I'd be honored sir" Teatime smiled brightly, "I'm here to kill you".

The Raven landed, and perched, on her now clothed knee. "Susan? What are you doing?" The bird cocked its head to one side "You shouldn't sit like that, all the bloods rushed to your head. You're as red as an apple you are".

She raised the rope wrapped tightly around her wrists. "If you'd be so kind". Surely out of patience and not about to get into it with the fowl.

"Whose done that then?" Before he could ask anymore inconvenient

questions Susan stuffed the knot into his beak. Getting the idea he got to work. "Sowhogotyou?" her savior croaked out between sharp bites and mouthfuls of rope.

"It was a man-" She winced as the beak caught her wound. Giving the raven his first peek at the sword's handiwork. The bird paused alarmed, un tucking his wings and agitatedly covering the kitchen floor with feathers.

"Your hands!"

"Mr. Teatime" clasping her hands together to avoid anymore knicks.

"I'll peck out his eyes" he finished freeing her and went to perch on something less Susan.

"Its just the one actually" Susan extended her arm up to her boot, pulling on the binds.

"That bastard, so he's got an eye patch then?"

"A false" she corrected exerting to finish freeing up her left foot.

"Ah! I hate that, inconsiderate blag. 'Like putting plastic fruit up on a table, just asking to choke somebody"

Susan shot him an unsettled look. "Right" she agreed if only to conserve her energy. The last tie to the chair was locked behind her. Exasperated, she threw her body to the right, rolling over, arms reaching backwards searching for the last knot.

"You think you can end me mortal?"

"Oh yes, I devoted my entire thesis to that very purpose" he cocked his head to one side recalling the assignment "Professor wasn't as confident about the subject, due to abstract symbolism, but I'm certain he had a change of heart after meeting you".

Not understanding the young man's rambling he asked the more obvious question "Are you the one who put those people" he pointed to the cellar door "down there?".

"Indeed, I would have drugged them, but I didn't have any toxins at hand" Teatime looked back from the door at Death concerned "Did you find the maid alright?"

"Yes"

"I'm happy to hear that, I wanted to accommodate" he grinned back at him. The expression no more resembling a human's then Death's own grin.

"You have my sword" both a statement and a question.

"Why yes! Your Susan was kind enough-"

"She gave you the sword?"

"No" Teatime answered shaking his head, missing what that had to do with anything.

"What are you doing here?" the raven had managed to wear out his welcome in record time. Now she needed to find where T time had gotten to...

"I came with your grandfather of course" it was hard to keep up with Susan when she kept pace like that, even with wings.

She froze turning to the bird direly, "Then he is here" and in case Teatime had just been rambling "Why?"

"The usual reason" he squawked conversationally.

"For how many?" she asked solemnly.

"He brought the one hourglass, but there were a whole mess of others tangled up down in the basement-"

Susan took off, not bothering to walk around the walls, in the direction of the cellar. As she neared the door the sound of clashing metal stole her attention. It seemed to be coming from up the stairs. She had no reason to fear for her Grandfather, but couldn't help a momentary bout of distress. For her only 'living' relative, and the Gaiter's furniture.

The Gaiters. Her body moved to the cellar door as she remembered why'd she come, hands flying to the knob forgetting what little need she had for it.

"The family is safe" Death descended the stairs to Susan, sword in hand. "Mrs. Price however-" he started, but Susan stilled him with a raised hand.

"I know" she noted the sword and cast a knowing glance upwards. "Mr. Teatime?".

"He tried to decapitate me" then adding unappreciative of the fact it went without saying "He was not successful"

"So the body is…?" asking hushed and insistent, afraid of what type of mess had been left behind and where.

"Down in the cellar"

"Teatime's body is down there?" Susan balked. Then what were the noises upstairs?

"I do not know where Mr. Teatime's body is"

"What-? How could you possibly-? you killed him."

"I did not" confused as to why she had come to that conclusion.

"Ho- We-…Why not?" At that moment she reminded herself of Twyla. Every time the young lady's hopes were dashed that she'd not beat a Bogey or tortured it with "the voice". It was all shamefaced immaturity, but honestly she had been hoping for some sort of justice.

"He vanished, I was unable to pursue him" Death propped his scythe up against the guard rail to brush indistinct powder off his robes. "He was carrying some type of…pixie dust".

"I see" trying not to sound too let down, she motioned to the basement "I really have to-

"Oh, yes of course" Death stepped back just the slightest bit dejected at her dismissal. Picking up on the change in mood Susan reached out.

"Granddad I wanted-".

"Susan I wanted-".

The two shifted nervously at the twin interruptions. Confidence sparked by Susan's "Granddad" Death pulled out a folded over piece of paper, handing it to his granddaughter. "I've made you this Hogswatch card".

She smiled weakly as to not seem ungrateful "Its...lovely Granddad", trying to find a positive remark about the design and failing, "Thank you".

"You wanted to say something?" pleased that the card had indeed been appreciated.

"That I might- that I intend to join you for supper"

Sharing the warm, if offbeat family moment, Susan's mind flew back to the Gaiters. She spun, hurriedly rushing down the stairs leaving her grandfather forgotten in the hall.

The Raven joined his master. Perching on his Scythe to watch Susan swiftly disappear down the dark stairwell.

"She didn't like your scribbly tissue then?"

Susan found her employers and their children near the right wall. The adults sported some faint bruising, but Twyla and Gawain didn't appear to be harmed. She crouched, tenderly kneading their scalps searching for bumps.

There was a masculine coughing off to her right. Head shooting up in alarm she found Mr. Gaiter awake. "Susan? Is that you?" he tried to sit up. Relieved to find him, and not the other, she stood.

"Yes Mr. Gaiter I-"

He did a double take at the sight of her "My god! What happened?".

She then remembered what she must look like, not having done anything to fix her appearance. Grandfather hadn't said anything…, but Grandfather really wouldn't have.

Unable to begin to explain what had happened Susan blurted out "Robbers!". An excuse with an easy enough motive; with the added bonus of not needing a thorough explanation.

"And you managed to fight them off by your self Ms. Sto Helit?, Good Show!"

She flinched trying to come up with a suitable truth, "No the… Authorities... arrived I really wasn't in any danger".

"Don't be modest my girl, I heard you screaming from down here" Mr. Gaiter gave her a complimentary smile very proud of their governess.

Susan blushed so hard she feared her birthmark might scorch clean away.

TBC.