Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji

"...so the party's gonna be at Lacey's in a bit," Ronald nodded to the receptionist, who nodded, jotting down notes and kept up with him. She looked at him, a tint of red smearing her cheeks as he gave her a flirtatious wink. "You gonna be there?"

She smiled back at him as he began to leave. "Of course I am," she breathed out, when his back was turned, she turned to face her companion at the two-seated desk and burst out into a fit of giggles. Ronald smirked at his handiwork, tucking a piece of paper into his breast pocket. Works every time. He strutted down the main entrance, catching the eyes of several other ladies who eyed him like Catholic schoolgirls, pointing and tittering at him. He strode past a group, but he took his sweet time, slowing his gait and blowing a small kiss at them while giving a curt cock of his head upwards.

One of them screamed like a rabid fan towards an actor while another fainted. "Oh~! Knox~!"

Starstruck? That was his daily living at the office, flirting his way to the top but also keeping a humble image so that he would be popular and respected. The minute he appeared in this workplace, he instantaneously caught attention and was eye candy for all the ladies here and there. His playful attitude, his good looks, his known strength, who wouldn't want a piece of that? He shook his head slightly, bobbing it and letting a tuft of his bangs go to the side.

An office worker sighed at him, but then a voice broke the momentum of his cool act.

"Ronnie! Ronald! Ronaaaaaald~!" Grell called towards him. "Sorry to break up your catwalk here!"

The daily flirtatious ritual Ronald Knox performed was cut short at the sight of Grell. "Hm?" He looked over his should before turning around. "Grell?"

The redhead looked like a train wreck to him, as though he hadn't gotten decent sleep for days, weeks, perhaps even a month. Grell would normally have himself primped up for the day but he seemed to have lacked that scent that indicated he done so. His hair was array and his bow tie hung loosely, the strand of cloth draped around his neck and seemed to hold to him languidly. His normally white dress shirt wasn't tucked in neatly, it hung out in the front, barely tucked in the back, and had a button or two loose.

But Ronald was not shocked, he saw the red reaper early that morning while delivering documents to William's office, passing by and waving. However, Grell didn't return a wave or smile to him that time. Perhaps a wild night last night? Yeah, that must be it. Instead of perfume, he caught the scent of some sort of alcohol Grell though it seemed highly unladylike of him. He shrugged of the disjointed features but couldn't help but inquire,"Did you drink last night?"

Grell stared at him, then shook his head,"I can't even remember what happened last night to begin with!" Or the past...however long for the matter.

So being drunk is a high probability. Check that on the list.

"Will told you to help me with a mission tonight."

Ronald rolled his eyes, sighing and taking a hand behind his neck to scratch it casually. "Well, you see, Grell...I got this party, y'know. It's gonna be at Lacey's and everything and stuff. Y'know, and...well, y'know!" Obviously talking himself out of a mission assigned by a higher ranking officer, though a demoted one was accepted as well, was not a wise choice. "A party!"

"Missing one party isn't gonna kill you, Ronnie. It's only one soul to reap and that's it," Grell weakly smiled at him, he seemed exhausted enough to not show off his pearly whites,"please?"

"Fine, I'll go. You're lucky I only have papers to push today." He walked on with Grell at his side. "Besides, what's up with one soul? I mean, with holidays coming in later, thought there'd be more than just one for you." Grell shrugged. Ronald's hand stretched out as they past a door, a reaper automatically handed him a file. "I got twenty yesterday. Man, all suicides too. Can't believe humans can be so...selfish." He opened the file. "Oh, great...a train wreck is scheduled for this Sunday and Handson's gonna have the bar reserved for us."

Grell made a weak laugh at the whine,"Knowing you, it seems that you're the one who's got the bar reserved for yourself every time you enter." He knew that after missions, Ronald would often invite a few ladies and spend nearly up to midnight drinking with them, sometimes Grell would tag along if there was nothing else to do. "There's no difference."

"Yeah there is, I don't need to pay."

They both laughed at that, though Grell calmed down faster. Ronald looked over at him. "Hey, your important glasses aren't on you. Do you want Will to beat you again? You're asking for it if you get on his neat side." When he meant neat, he meant obsessively composed for uniformity in workers...all workers. Grell waved off the question, even his gloves were not on his hands.

"No, he...he told me I could go without them for the day, I had a headache and those glasses were giving me them. I might need a different prescription since my eyesight improved." He squinted ahead of himself. Whatever that vision was, whether dream or reality, it was sudden instinct to avoid the use of his glasses. He knew it was necessary to wear them but they seemed to be useless for him now. Ronald looked at him, then let out a snickered. "What's wrong?"

A gloved finger went to the bridge of Grell's nose. "You got a tan line there."

"So?" he scoffed. "I bet you that every reaper in this Library has a tan line on their noses regardless how pale they are!" His hands were at his hips and he looked away, head raised in a defiant manner. "Hmph!" He strutted on, going faster than Ronald until there was a strangled cry from one of the bookkeeping rooms. They hurried their paces and saw books scattered about and a chocolate haired reaper curled up on the floor, clutching his chest and spluttering blood from his mouth. He let out a another held back cry as Eric came inside, pushing Ronald to the side. "Alan!"

Eric was at Alan's side immediately, scooping him up in his arms and then carrying him out. "Hey, Sutcliff, Knox, fix those books there!" The blond man nearly skidded on the smooth surface of the flooring as he rushed off, carrying the ill Alan to the Infirmary. The area went quiet and gave the two room to move. It was becoming more and more common for Alan's attacks to occur and workers were aware of his situation, remaining respectful of them. This attack was only a week apart from the last one of Ronald could recall as he and Grell gathered the fallen books.

"Will they ever cure Alan?" he asked, being the newest there, he was rather unfamiliar with the health risks of reapers. While reapers were depicted as Gods, they seemed to have limitations; a terminal illness such as the Thorns of Death was equivalent to cancer for them as it is to humans. Once the books were neatly stacked on a nearby table, working pace of reapers returned to normal within seconds.

"The Thorns of Death...such a horrible tragedy for our kind." Grell described in a breathtaking way. "It's one of the many things that are taught at the Academy if you can remember it freshly. Never show sympathy for souls that you've collected. Doing so may...allow souls to influence our bodies, eventually...some souls that were lost will gather around your heart..." He placed a hand on Ronald's torso. "...and be inches away, the thorns they create form the wreathe around your heart."

His fingers danced slowly towards the left side of his chest. "It's revenge they wish to wrought down upon any reaper who's decided to take up the burden of...wanting a taste of the pain those poor souls have gone through. When they are close enough." His fingers clenched and he formed a ball in his fist. "...they'll crush that beating heart we have and we die."

He backed away, giving him space. "There is no cure for this, really...it is the soul's decision to latch to Alan's body, eating away at him like a parasite and all. Of course, these aren't normal souls, these souls are actually the ones who never learned to accept life, they're the kinds that scream for someone to notice them, and Alan did so. It's not that he intentionally lets them into him...he just happens to be near them."

Ronald nodded. "I see where it goes then."

It was quiet between the two until Ronald made it to his office, being a high ranked Officer despite his age, he sighed,"Well, I need to concentrate. I'll meet you at the courtyard at...what time is your soul reaped at?"

"I can't remember."

"Alright, six...seven...seven thirty, how's that sound?"

The sound of numbers made something click in his mind. "The dead of the night," he uttered, Ronald leaned closer to hear him,"what?"

"It happened passed midnight!" Grell managed to get out, a peculiar stare was what he earned from the blond.

He asked,"When what happened?" Grell snapped his attention to him, but waved his hand at it. "Alright...that gives me time to go to the party and leave. When do we meet?" Grell looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Two in the morning," he answered for him,"I need to go check on a few things...oh, and what's the day today?" Though he asked the question earlier, he wanted to have a reality check of what was going on. Ronald looked down at his watch, apparently, the expensive piece had the ability to tell time and also read the date. He was given this watch by Alan during his birthday as a way to keep track of time. Nowadays, the blond was on schedule about forty percent of the time, which was an improvement compared to being off eighty percent.

"It's August the first." Grell reached into his vest, pulling out a gold pocket watch lined with rubies to see the time. It stated to be twelve o'clock. "I'll see you then. Toodles, Ronnie~!"

He turned heel, blowing a kiss to Ronald, and walked on. But as he turned a corner, he slowed in his pace considerably. He had only two hours to be there, it was enough time to clean himself. He walked slower, his brows furrowing in contemplation, an arm was across his chest as another was propped on it while his fingers caressed his chin. He had a slight feeling earlier but now it was becoming more apparent. It was as though he lost track a portion of his life but was remembering little flashes of it. The numbers Ronald mentioned of time was only a small trigger and contributed to a tiny part of the puzzle that he was trying to piece together.

The dead of the night. He remembered that. And the soul he was to collect. But William assigning him another single soul? That wasn't right. Hell, he never done the paperwork for the first soul last night!

He made it to his own office, searching for the information William claimed to have given him; after about ten minutes, he found a folder labeled August 1, 1887. His eyes scanned the only page within it, and it matched the description of the other soul he thought to have collected last night. He looked at his To Die List, the same person was there and it didn't update itself. There was a bit of shock. "...souls don't appear twice, now do they?" he wondered aloud. He placed the folder down and stared down at it.

He swore that he received the same soul yesterday evening.

A/N: Ha ha, I need sleep so badly! I wonder what Grell thinks of this.

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