First Cut

I had originally wanted that last chapter to end on a different note. I had wanted to include Grell and have him wake Edward up and this whole argument come about ending with either William or Annabelle telling Grell that they were "supposed to reap this man three minutes ago!" I thought ahead and traded the idea for this chapter. I want to give something funny while still keeping the serious side going.

I know glasses are important to a Shinigami, and I think William explains why in that OVA but it was not subbed when I watched so I don't know what he says. I personally think they can remove their glasses to clean them but if that is proven wrong with the subbed OVA then I apologize for that. I have heard that removing them is to resign according to the musical but I don't know if that would really be considered canon. Don't think of this as a rant! I promise it makes sense.

Chapter 4

Grell Sutcliff wandered down the hall of the Shinigami offices, trying to look as innocent and inconspicuous as someone dressed nearly in all red could look around his dark suited peers. The sound of his heeled boots were soon muffled by the ever present clack clack clack of typewriters as he neared the typists' room. With a quick glance down the hall, he made sure he was alone before poking his head through the door.

"Aha!" he whispered to himself, spotting Annabelle. He crossed the room and stood behind her, unnoticed by anyone in the room.

"I haven't finished typing your weekly list, Mr. Sutcliff." Annabelle told him, without looking up at him. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Miss."

"What?"

"Miss Sutcliff, Belle."

"It is Annabelle, Mr. Sutcliff." She pulled the sheet of paper she had been typing on out of the machine and placed a fresh one back in. Before she could type out the assigned reaper's name, Grell politely reached over and plucked out the ink ribbon. "Put that back!" she hissed, drawing the attention of her nearby coworkers.

Tossing it casually in one hand, Grell remarked, "Have you ever considered typing with red ink?"

"It is not my place to pick and choose colors!"

"What a pity," Grell sighed. "I would love for my lists be typed in red ink."

"Well then," Annabelle said, reaching for her ribbon, "you will have to take that up with – " Her sentence ending with a faint choking sound as Grell "accidentally" let the ribbon fall on her finished lists, leaving them an inky blue mess.

"Do you have any idea," she began, her voice shaking, "how much overtime that is going to make for me? You incompetent – "

"Ah, ah, ah," Grell said, shaking his finger at her. "It was an accident."

"If that was an accident then I am the Queen herself!" Annabelle spat. She looked forlornly at the mess she would have to retype. She took a deep breath and told herself to ignore Grell Sutcliff as best as possible. Settling back in her chair, she reached for a fresh ribbon and a new stack of paper.

"Allow me."

"Don't!"

Grell snatched the ribbon from Annabelle and tried to reset the typewriter. Within a blink of an eye, the failed attempt to replace the ribbon turned into a miniature ink bomb. Annabelle, Grell, and several others nearby were suddenly coated with blue ink splatters.

Grell took in the scene before him and began to laughing, revealing his sharp, pointed teeth. "I must say, you all look a little better with makeup!"

Annabelle glared at him as best as she could through her ink covered glasses.

"Reaper Sutcliff, explain yourself!" Grell turned sheepishly towards the door at the sound of Bartholomew. It was not only Bartholomew, but William and two others that held authoritative powers.

Grell then turned on his best attempt at charm. He tossed an arm over Annabelle's shoulders and said, "I was just helping my friend Anna here. Those ink ribbons, they can be very tricky!"

"Annabelle!" she hissed through clenched teeth. To her bosses, she added, "There was no "help" to it." She pointed to the mess of soul collection lists on her table and of those nearby. "That was deliberate but I certainly could not tell you why! Perhaps Mr. Sutcliff gets some form of thrill making others work overtime."

She and the rest of the inky workers were allowed to leave and clean up as best as they could. They padded through the hall, leaving blue footprints as they did. \

After an hour in Bartholomew's office, Grell dragged himself out only to be met in the hall by William. "Will," Grell began innocently, "you aren't going to punish me too, are you?"

William crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Grell over his glasses. "Explain yourself," he demanded. "And I expect honesty. You have never stepped foot in that station before. In fact, you have made efforts to avoid that room like the plague."

Grell stood fidgeting, looking down at his feet. William surely understood Grell's reason for bothering Annabelle. He was a smart man, after all.

Certain he was going to get no answer, William said, "You should be retyping those lists yourself. Be grateful with the punishment you did get. I would also be taking your scythe and leaving you with a dull bread knife."

Grell winced. He had only been banned from being anywhere near the typing area after he cleaned the entire room himself. William, it was clear, felt that was not enough punishment. "I am sorry, Will," he said as William turned to leave the hall.

William said nothing to that apology. He was furious. Grell had done things before to get his attention, but that was a new one. It seemed like he would have to keep a closer watch on Grell, especially with Annabelle around.

Outside of his office, Annabelle was waiting for him. She had changed into a fresh suit, her hair still damp from being washed, her face and glasses ink free. "Mr. Spears, your list wasn't ruined by Mr. Sutcliff. Here," she pulled it from inside her suit jacket and handed it to him.

"I apologize," he began, taking the stack of papers from her.

She shook her head. "You don't have to apologize for that thing. Maybe he should be put on a leash."

"He is not allowed to bother you while you work." William opened his office door and motioned for her to follow him inside. After shutting the door behind her, he added, "I would hope if you are with me he will know better."

He spread the typed sheets out on his desk and settled himself in his chair. Annabelle took the chair across from him. The two sat reviewing the obligated souls and making plans for the week ahead of them. Annabelle expressed great interest in a double homicide, smiling as William agreed to take her with him for that.

Once their plan was in order for the week, William sorted the papers in the order and stacked them on the corner of his desk. "Thank you."

Annabelle stood and bowed slightly. "Thank you for agreeing to take me along. I imagine it mustn't be easy to have someone so inexperienced following you around."

"You've fallen into step very easily. And you're much more behaved than some people." The two exchanged small smiles. As Annabelle turned to leave, William asked, "Annabelle, one more thing?"

"Yes?" she asked, facing him again.

"Why do you choose to type?"

Annabelle looked slightly taken aback by the question. "I was told there is a shortage for death list typists. I know that is something I can handle. I have been interested in reaping but I thought typing would be a better use for me."

"Anyone can type out death lists. People just don't want to because they find it 'dull'." William dismissed her with a wave, giving her time to think about what he had just told her.