Ronald's career was flashing before his eyes. It was a short career, but he had had a decent run. He could have gotten promoted, maybe even had a chance to put a few new touches on his death scythe. None of this mattered now, of course, because Will was going to have him ritualistically drawn and quartered.

"Grell!" his voice was swallowed by the empty hallway as the red-haired reaper disappeared around a corner. Ronald had time to think about what it would be like to die, again, with someone else doing all of the work for a change. He wondered what kind of paperwork would collect in the office as an explanation to the higher-ups about how the bloody disembowelment of a junior employee had been an absolute necessity. He had time to think of the cold glint of disapproval in William's eyes, the reflection off his glasses that seemed incurable. As long as the shinigami had existed, why had no one thought to concoct some sort of anti-glare coating…?

"Grell!" Ronald reached the top of the stairs, winded, watching helplessly as she slid down the railing, laughing the entire way, her chainsaw thrown across her lap. One minute, tears. The next minute – madness. Another minute more and there would undoubtedly be blood. Then there would be bitching and sex and somehow it would all cycle back to tears.

Ronald really needed to stop, at some point, and re-evaluate all of his life choices.

Grell vanished out the main door of the apartment building.

Was there a third afterlife? He would probably be the first to find out.

Ronald started running down the stairs, his expensive white brogues threatening to slip over the smooth, worn dips in the wood. If he fell and broke his neck, he would probably lie there for hours before anyone found him. People would probably step on him.

He burst out the front door, looking around wildly for any sight of Grell. She was not anywhere within his immediate line of vision… shit.

He'd lost his boss' lover, and the apartment door was unlocked.

Was it possible to commit suicide twice?

A tap on his shoulder, the lightest graze of wicked metal teeth. Ronald looked up to see Grell sitting on the edge of the lowest part of the roof, the high heels of her boots hooked against a window pane. Her chainsaw dangled from the tip of a single finger and if it dropped now, Ronald would be a goner. He was so relieved to see her that he almost forgot to scowl, but after a moment's pause he did, adjusting his glasses defiantly.

"Get down from there!" he demanded.

"Why?" she pouted.

"You're going to fall and it's going to be my fault." He said. "The boss is going to have me flayed."

"Ooh," she purred. She slid further up to the roof so she could rise to her feet, walking along the edge like a cat on a beam. She disappeared 'round the corner of the house, and Ronald followed her anxiously.

"Grell, please!"

"Tra la la. One more bruise, what will it hurt?" she lifted her chainsaw, the motion causing her foot to slip. She regained her balance, but a tile skid. It flew off the roof and barely missed Ronald's head as he felt the blood draining from his face.

"We can go inside," he said, practically begging. "We can have coffee. We can talk some more. I know you're upset, Grell, but I've already told you, there will be time for blood later…"

"I don't want blood later. I want it now." Her red lips curled, baring her teeth in the most disdainful way. "And I cannot take William's. As much as I would love to."

"No," Ronald said helplessly. "I don't suppose…"

"Give me your list," she held out a gloved hand.

He stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry?"

"Your list!" she wiggled her fingers. "The list of people you are supposed to be reaping and are not, you naughty boy."

Ronald sighed. He jumped into the air and landed on the roof beside her, reaching into his blazer and pulling out the folded list. Grell snatched it from him, opening it up and scanning the names and occupations with her green eyes.

Her smile was wide and unsettling.

"Oooh, no prostitutes for you, Ronald my darling." She giggled. "It looks like you have at least one interesting hit today. Lady Clifton? I've always wanted to paint a lady's room red."

"I don't think…" it was useless arguing. Grell had picked up her scythe and was getting ready to run again. She turned away, but flashed him a smile over her shoulder.

"If you can keep up," she teased, "I won't inform Will that you are terribly behind schedule." With that, she was off again, and Ronald had no choice but to follow.