Charles has almost stopped checking the mail. What with the occasional letters from dead people and the mentally scaring fan mail, it's hardly worth the trouble. Some day he will have to get himself an assistant, some faceless gear in a well oiled machine that will check the mail and let him know if anything requires his immediate attention. But until that day he will have to check it himself.

It's six am and all the boys are passed out drunk in the living room. He is really going to have to get a bigger apartment some day. There is hardly room to navigate through the living room without stepping on someone. Nathan, sprawled out face down on the floor takes up more room than any one human reasonably should. Truthfully he takes up more room than two humans reasonably should.

The beer cans and liquor bottles still litter floor. Far be it for any of them to pick up after themselves, it's not like it's his apartment and they are guest or anything. One of these days he's going to have to talk one of Dethklok's over enthusiastic fans into playing housekeeper. None of them should even be here. Except maybe Nathan, who was at least sort of invited in the beginning and has since become an integral part of his daily routine. And if Nathan was going to stay then Toki could stay too because Charles wasn't quite mean enough to kick someone out on to the street when they couldn't speak the language and lacked the life skills to fend for themselves. And if he couldn't kick Toki out because he had no place else to go then he could hardly evict Pickles. Sure Pickles could probably fend for himself but Charles didn't really mind his constant snoring over breakfast and he was a pretty easy house guest, all things considered. And he could hardly slam the door on Murderface when all his friends/less hostile acquaintance were here in the apartment. That would just be mean and Charles could tell Murderface was one minor inconvenience away from the edge. The edge of what, he wasn't sure. Charles couldn't tell what Skwisgaar's excuse was. He had a perfectly decent apartment of his own and an improbable array of women willing to keep him company but if he wanted to spend the night passed out on Charles' living room floor, who was he to object. And so Charles was right back where he started, a living room full of drunken idiots.

He made his way gingerly to the kitchen table where he'd dropped the pile of mail the night before. Sliding quietly into the chair he adjusted a nearby blind to allow just enough light for him to read by.
Sorting the mail he quickly started a pile of heavily scented envelops mark Skwisgaar. Experience had taught him not to open any of those letters. Even if he wasn't bent as a logarithmic curve he still didn't think he'd see the appeal in the sort of women who wrote those letters.

The other band members had started to receive their own fair share of (less creepy) fan mail. Charles didn't mind so much opening up those and passing on the ones he knew his boys would want to see. The first dozen or so girly letters addressed to Nathan had been viciously shredded and disposed of until the rest of the band had started to tease Nathan about his lack of female fans. Charles had been forces to let a few of the letters through. The most risqué and provocative were still quietly disposed of when nobody was looking.

After the fan mail there was the usual assortment of bills and official correspondence. Charles was relieved to find none of the letters were from someone who had died a hundred years ago.

At the bottom of his stack of letters was a thick envelope from an unfamiliar address. He turned it over in his hands and contemplated. Not that it did him any good. The letter would remain just as enigmatic until he opened it. Sliding the letter open he fought the childish urge to hold his breath.

Holy shit.

It was from the state bar.

He'd passed.

"NATHAN!" Charles shouted and leaped to his feet. "NATHAN!" he shouted again, tripping over a gracefully sprawled Skwisgaar in his haste to wake Nathan. It was hardly fair to be waking him up at this hour. He'd probably only just gotten to sleep. But it was just such wonderful news and he had to share it.

Kneeling, or more accurately artfully falling to Nathan's side he tried to wake the slumbering giant. Having finally remembered that other people in the room were trying to sleep he lowered his voice.
"Nathan. Nathan wake up. I've got wonderful news. I passed." Shaking the piece of paper at a still snoring lump on the floor he repeated the pertinent part of his statement. "I passed!"

Nathan groped in the general direction of the noise with a large uncoordinated hand. Blindly feeling his way up Charles' chest he grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled until Charles had no choice but to lay down in the awkward space between Nathan and the coffee table. Now much closer to his target's ear he tried again, "Nathan! I passed, I'm a law-"

The large hand again blindly sought out the source of the noise and clamped over Charles' mouth.

"Shh. Sleep now." Nathan mumbled without opening his eyes.

Charles resigned himself to his fate and tried to extract himself from Nathan's iron grip. Struggling only caused Nathan to shift so that he was now half on top of Charles, pressing him into the edge of the coffee table. After a few minutes of wondering whether he would forever bear the mark of the coffee table digging into his shoulder, Nathan shifted again and pulled him out of harm's way.

With Nathan holding him close and the coffee table no longer playing the role of his mortal enemy Charles thought he could probably manage to sleep. As the world faded in to the pleasant mist of sleep he felt Death lean closer still and whisper into his ear.

"Congratulations."