A few days pass. Undertaker keeps busy arranging funerals, working with the underworld of Britain.
He's lying inside of a nice coffin, propped against the wall, thinking about the fragility of human bodies when the door bangs open and footsteps hurry in.
"Undertaker!" a shrill voice cries, which he recognizes immediately. I wonder what that ridiculous reaper wants now?
"Undertaker, are you in?" a crisp, businesslike voice joins Grell's. Undertaker can hear footfalls, and then, a series of smart little raps on the lid of his coffin. "Come out, please."
Undertaker takes his time opening the coffin and walking out. Grell flies to him and clings to his legs, whimpering. Undertaker ignores this and looks at the man in front of him. He has neatly combed, dark hair, a spotless black suit, and yellowish eyes that frown sternly behind rectangular glasses. In his black-gloved hand is a long, metal rod tipped with sophisticated yet lethal-looking hedge clippers. "What a pleasure to see you, William," Undertaker says.
William T. Spears nods stiffly, then says, "Grell would like – "
"Help me, Undertaker," Grell whines at Undertaker's feet. "William – "
"Grell's performance as a reaper of souls is severely lacking," William cuts Grell off. "I have been instructed to relieve him of his duties, and – "
"It's not fair!" Grell wails. "They can't just – "
"Yes, we can," William says calmly. He adjusts his glasses with the end of his scythe. "Your little Jack the Ripper stunt was the beginning of the end for you. You're nothing but a mediocre troublemaker who gets distracted too easily – "
"See how mean he's being, Undertaker?" Grell complains. "How dare you speak to me like that, you scum of a man!" He glares at William before gazing up at Undertaker and smiling winningly. "Can't you help me, at all?" He bats his eyes.
"Oh dear," Undertaker murmurs airily, a finger on his chin. "What a predicament you're in."
"He insisted on my coming here in the hopes that you and I could negotiate," William says with a sarcastic edge to his voice. "I thought it best to humor him. If you please, I would appreciate it if you could calm him down so that I may be on my way."
"If he wanted us to negotiate," Undertaker says lightly, "why shouldn't we?" Time for a little game, he thinks. This should be fun.
"No," William says flatly. "He is – "
"But you can't simply fire him on the spot without any kind of warning," Undertaker interrupts.
"We have given him plenty of warnings," William huffs.
"Really? Any official written documents? Any formal disciplinary hearings?"
There's a tiny, almost unnoticeable pause, and then, "No, but – "
"Anything other than your little frustrated scoldings?" Undertaker presses, quite enjoying himself.
William's eyes narrow in irritation. "No," he says with an edge in his voice.
"Then you can't prove that you've given him any warning, which is completely unprofessional," Undertaker concludes casually, shrugging.
"That's besides the point. Grell's trying to worm out of this is another prime example of his incompetence and immaturity."
Undertaker is starting to feel annoyed. However, his voice is very calm when he says, "I'm not interested in what you have personally against Grell, if anything. William, if you feel the need to punish this Shinigami, in this case you must send an official warning or put him on probation before simply stripping him of his job. You – "
"I used to hold you in very high esteem, you know," William says curtly. "But after you let loose the reanimated corpses, I lost all respect for you. I see now that you're just a lazy quitter with bad ideas."
In a flash, Undertaker reaches into the folds of his large black coat and seizes his scythe, which he swings at William, who ducks neatly. Grell is thrown aside as Undertaker dodges William's counterattack with the hedge clippers.
"You're a thief, too, apparently," William says smoothly, stepping quickly about. "That scythe belongs to the Management Dispatch Division."
"I would apologize for taking it," Undertaker replies sweetly, advancing and attacking again. William blocks him and retreats quickly. "But that would be insincere. I just couldn't bear to part with it."
William lunges with his scythe, missing Undertaker by a hair's breadth but succeeding in knocking off his hat.
Scythe in one hand, Undertaker takes his empty fist and whacks William's clippers out of his grip in one swift motion. "You're just a conceited workaholic." He steps close to William, trapping him in a corner, the handle of the scythe pressed lengthwise across his impeccable suit.
William wrinkles his nose, scowling into Undertaker's ever-present grin. "Forgive me," he says suddenly, and before Undertaker can react William has reached out and brushed away his long front locks, exposing the narrow, yellow-green eyes.
Undertaker remains still, smile fading a little. William looks at him curiously for a moment. Undertaker raises his eyebrows and William drops his hand. "Hmph," he snorts disdainfully. "What a waste." He shakes his head and says shortly, "Probation. You have one week to prove yourself. Any more foul-ups and you can clear off your desk, Grell." He pushes past the ex-reaper, picks up his hedge clippers, and stalks out the door.
Undertaker dusts himself off and looks around for Grell, who for once has held his tongue this entire time. The redhead is sitting on the floor, gazing starry-eyed at Undertaker with his jaw hanging open.
Undertaker gives a sweeping bow and announces, "You're welcome."
Grell leaps to his feet and squeals, "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You saved my life!"
"I saved your job," Undertaker corrects, picking up his hat and putting it on.
"Whatever!" Grell bounces up and down excitedly. "Will you help me? I know I need to do a better job, and I know you're pretty good at this, so – "
"He said you have a week to prove yourself worthy of keeping your job. So we might as well start now."