Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji

"Hnm, you say his wound is still there?" Undertaker asked as he crept behind Sebastian, giggling to himself. "By this time he would have healed properly and would be wandering about looking for some sort of menial task to do. Poor boy, he can't do a thing with an order. I should say that the Academy was rather strict back then..."

Sebastian went on placing the plates, which were unbroken, and glasses, which were in tact, upon a white clothed table; the old mortician was helping pass around the napkins as he had nothing to do but wait for his movers to transfer whatever was left of his parlor into the estate. "A Shinigami healing overnight? I can imagine that being so if they were so much as divine beings with any other power than violating the privacy of humans."

"Come now, a party is going to happen so don't give off that sour speak of anyone! I find it hilarious that William can't heal properly though, yet I find it a bit of a concern," he mused while going around the table and then pulling out a chair to sit himself down. He leaned against the edge of the table and propped his chin on his hand,"a bit odd? William, comes here without a death scythe and nearly beaten to a pulp, he can't even heal himself. Being the dog of a watchdog, can you deduct what happened to him?"

Clinks of tea sets were put into place by the plates. Sebastian's perplexed expression told Undertaker that he was pondering upon the circumstances of William's state.

"Not that I would care, the idiot is destined to die eventually should he stay here longer. What I'm most concerned about is that you're not doing anything to defend him from my Master's orders."

"Orders that were never aloud are never meant to be mingled with." Undertaker grinned. "So I'm not taking a part of saving his pitiful life, I no longer work hunting demons down so I can't bother with anything really. You can say that my goal in life is to observe now. Giving tips of what to do in life are only given after a pay so if you wish to hear more of my opinion, you'll have to make me laugh."

Sebastian rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I can figure this out on my own..."

A moment of silence passed and the silver reaper burst into hysteria, falling unto the floor and rolling about, kicking his feet and thrashing his arms; Sebastian's eyebrows furrowed as he attempted to ignore the cackling sounds radiating from the mortician. Minutes went on and then Undertaker coughed himself into a voice,"Y-you! You say you don't care and yet you position yourself into wondering why I care less of you killing him and then you trying to figure out William's problem! AHAHAHAHA!"

"Have you gone mad? !" Sebastian exclaimed. "What nonsense is this you speak of! ?"

Undertaker had rolled around once more and slowly panted, breaths hitching and wheezing every so often.

"You contradict yourself! Twisting words are what demons do, you forget reapers can do so as well! AH!" He slammed his hand to the floor and managed to sit up, his top hat toppled away and he crawled to get it. "You gave me a laugh at the irony so I'll say my answers to you!" He rubbed his chest. "My, my."

Sebastian became quiet and he went off to polish the silver. "Honestly, Undertaker, you laugh at the oddest of things."

"Things that make sense!" He corrected. "My idea is that William was struck with a death scythe but by now it should have healed, right? It may kill us but a healthy Shinigami like him would have healed earlier. He is strong, I see, but there is something that disturbs me about him. Suppose that he has an illness that prevents him from healing correctly?"

-...-

Grell was left outside of the pub, he was sitting on a chair with Alan standing by, looking out at the busy street. The location of William's death scythe, which had reaped quite a number of souls in this particular area of London, had drawn the team here. When the pub was spotted, a whole afternoon was spent by then and night had began to fall fairly quickly; Eric thought it best to take a break and him and his subordinate went to have a couple pints.

After this they would pick up once more in their search.

So far, nothing but empty bodies were found and they were always too late to find the killer. Eric held to the list of souls since his instincts, more of urges, told him to look into the pub, leaving Alan and Grell to themselves.

Grell satisfied himself by ripping to shreds a newspaper, he was trying to contain his anger and Alan stayed clearly a good radius from him.

"Hey, can I ask you?" Alan started, trying to lighten the damped mood between the two. Grell nodded without a word. "What was your assignment last night, really?"

Before they had left, Alan attempted to sneak around back to find the last mission the duo were put into; knowing their rank, one would never have required the other to help. William and Grell had enough experience under their belts , it was strange to assign a pair of the best to go for a single soul collection. Of course, in Alan's findings, he was unable to learn the circumstances of their mission. Grell stared at him, he expected Alan to know but some things were left unknown at times. Grell tore away at the newspaper.

"We were given orders to reap a few gypsies near Edgon Heath*, a village a few ways from the Phantohive Manor. You know how they say gypsies are rather dangerous souls to collect, they seem to instinctively hate us really. Anyway, they were having their yearly festivals and a couple things went out of hand; I went in a reaped the ones that were supposed to be reaped and went off to fill out my reports. It wasn't at all that unpleasant the stories say-"

"Instinctively hate us? What would they do?" Alan inquired.

Grell shrugged. "Stories say they can see our real power and would prevent their death at all cost. Then again...they did ask me to dance with them and there was only two hours before a fight would have...bro-ken...oooout..." His words were slowed and then they faded away. "Oh no, I took off my coat to be a bit comfortable, why couldn't I have remembered? !"

He reached into his coat and fumbled about for his To Die List but his hand emerged blank. Alan was at full alert and he nearly shouted,"You let them take your To Die List! ?"

"I didn't know they could do that!" He yelled back, he rushed into the pub to fetch the two blonds happily drinking away. A few moments passed and he caught them sitting at the bar, laughing. He grabbed their shoulders to gain their attention. "Boys! Get sober! I found out where William's death scythe could be!"

But is any misfortune could come to Grell once more, he discovered the two drunk senseless. Grell groaned out of frustration and reached into Eric's pocket, taking the list of souls and then rushing out to find Alan at a ready stance. "We can't take them."

"We can't? Why not? Eric's reaped drunk before-"

"You forget that he goes overboard with Ronald, unless we want any overtime from this, since it already is, we should just go on by ourselves! C'mon!"

A/N: Sorry for the wait! My ideas are coming back so review this story if you wanna see more!

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