Thanks to everyone for your patience and support! These weeks have been hectic, but my father is now doing fine. Thank you for your concern. You all are the best.
I will be busier than normal until my father finishes reahabilitation but I will keep posting chapters unless something unexpected happens, so nothing to worry about.
Because of all that's happened I haven't had as much time as I like to check over the chapter so if you find some misspelling I would appreciate if you tell me so I can fix it. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler, Yana Toboso does.
The Gamer: Fun and Games
It was only when we got back to London and safe inside our shop that I finally deigned to visit our prisoner.
Neither Tofu nor Taker liked the idea, as they agreed for once in their lifetimes that forgetting everything about the man trapped inside my Dungeon was the best course of action, but I was really curious about the train of thought that had occurred to me while we were undercover, and the only one able to answer those questions was none other than Stephanie himself.
Why would he be after Tofu if he didn't have a means to make him obey? What did he want Tofu for, anyways? What was the point of throwing a meeting disguised as a party if the host could be kidnapped without anybody actually noticing? Who were those strange people that had acted so... weirdly?
Sorry, my fault. That didn't happen. Never. Both Taker and I agreed to wipe that moment from our minds at all.
The validity of those inquiries was questionable in itself as, with Stephanie trapped, any plans he could have had would be considered irrevocably destroyed. Unless there was some other bad guy playing Stephanie's strings like it happened in so many movies, that is.
Seeing as this whole situation seemed to be taken out of some third rate shoujo manga as a pathetic excuse to give the protagonist some long term goal, she rather doubted it could be that easy. I was actually expecting a 'but' to be thrown my way once I got some answers, because of course my simple, peaceful life always seemed to have its days numbered.
In fact, I am pretty sure I was cheating in some way, as I rather doubted it would have been that easy without the reaper's help. I owe him a big deal, don't I?
Well, I should give him a big hug and a kiss to make up for my grumpy behavior on our way back. And then I would cook him something nice. Maybe even share some cookies.
I would have to think of something more to repay the mortician's help when he actually hadn't needed to get involved in this mess, but that would have to wait until after the... interrogation.
I... wasn't sure how I should act to pry information out of someone not willing to share it, but I figured that if I had one advantage it was the advantage of having a lot of time to spare.
I would convince him. Somehow. I had a lot of time to find a way to change his mind.
Maybe if I gave him a cookie and was nice he would be more inclined to behave? I could at least try.
So when I entered my very special dungeon with a cookie in hand and a frowning reaper by my side, needless to say I hadn't expected to be immediately attacked by a furious Stephanie. In hindsight, though, it was pretty obvious he wouldn't have just waited for me drinking tea and playing chess. Even if I did give him the means to. The chess table was throw to the side along with a few more furniture, but the tea kettle was perfectly untouched, so he could still drink tea... if he hadn't destroyed the teacups too.
It took me half a second to get my bearings together and dodge, Taker following my lead after I was thankfully out of direct harm's way.
As I avoided another furious lunge, I scrambled to figure out a way for the black haired man to stop attacking, only coming to the conclusion that he was attacking us because he was angry, because we destroyed his plans -which is actually a legit reason to be angry at someone- so if I somehow make his anger go away, he would maybe become a nice, agreeable person. Maybe.
Of course there's a voice that sounds a suspicious lot like Undertaker telling me that it was a stupid idea and would only come to bite us in the ass later, but I dutifully ignored it.
The reaper sent me a suspicious look as if he sensed me throwing away my common sense.
So I made him attend yoga classes. This time for good. It's not like he could refuse anyways, not while he was in my dungeon.
It was one of the good things of being in this dimension, I could do whatever I wanted.
Of course, that means that I could have just made his anger go away, but I figured it wouldn't really help if he got himself angry again. Instead, I just made him learn to control his anger, maybe even channeling it into something useful. Hopefully something not... murder-y kind of useful.
So after a second of staring, dodging and failed negotiation attempts, I left him to his new anger management classes, yoga exercises and a gardening course I actually knew nothing of but the man had had a vague interest in somewhere deep inside.
Hey, it wouldn't be a bad thing to learn to take care of plants myself. It would even give us something to bond over, not to mention I actually liked to take care of things that couldn't actually bite me as I fed them.
...
I was actually talking about Captain Socks, not Biscuit. Although Biscuit did give me a few scares, the cat seemed to make it her life's mission to cause as much suffering as a cat possibly could.
I would just have to deal with it.
"Taker..." I mumbled, looking up at the napping mortician, who seemed to have no care in the world.
"Yes, dear~?" He answered back, not looking up at me from the place he was laid on. Not that I could blame him, I wouldn't get up either, if I had a cat napping on my face.
Even if that cat was the demon incarnate.
Captain Socks seemed to love falling asleep on the mortician, much to his chagrin. I was only happy I wasn't the chosen napping pillow of the day.
I had to admit that, together, the cat and the reaper made for a very cute sight.
I looked at Hercules, the donkey having been eyeing the still growing plants I was tending to.
A few days ago they had finally sprouted, small buds in constant danger of being eaten by a hungry Hercules. The mortician, far from helping to reign in the animal, decided that it was my karmic punishment for daring to make a garden in his backyard, and rested lazily as he eyed me futilely try to stop Hercules as the donkey lazily walked to my precious plants to snack on them.
That's not fair! Stephanie doesn't have that problem when he gardens inside my dungeon. Not that he would tell me, as the second I enter he drops everything to try to tackle me. He's not very interested in idle conversation.
It's okay. I can wait. I'm anything if not patient.
"Lia..." the mortician drawled from his place underneath the cat's butt.
"Yes?" I blinked when the mortician just made a motion for me to get closer, which I did reluctantly. I couldn't see his face, but I have the feeling he's smirking mischievously, which doesn't mean anything good for me.
"How's... What was his name again~? The guy you have in your dungeon~" he asked with a slow drawl, making me blink in confusion. Didn't he already know his name? He had been the only one to get it right, why was he asking me?
"Stephanie...?" I mumbled, flinching when the mortician immediately descended into a fit of giggles, making me frown at him.
He's laughing at me, isn't he?
"Hi hi hi hi~! It never gets old, really how did you even come up with that one? He he he~ Ah... You're the best..." he drawled, relaxing his body in a way that made him look almost deflated. The can looked down at the face it was sitting on, before deciding to jump out and away from the crazy reaper.
I pouted at the newly revealed grin plastered on the reaper's face, haughtily looking away at the cat who was retreating inside the shop with a dignified grace.
Biscuit ran inside after the cat, barking like mad and jumping over the startled cat.
A second after the mortician ran inside to join the ruckus, leaving me standing there trying to keep Hercules away from my plants. After a few seconds of barking and laughter, I heard the door being opened and the sound of a girl's scream come from inside, being startled probably because of Taker.
I slowly followed after them, only making it to the kitchen before I heard a very... strange statement.
"You're a kitty!" A man's voice exclaimed in a disgustingly sweet baby tone from the shop entrance, making me wonder who was Captain Socks torturing now. After all, I had thought I heard a girl's scream, but I guess that our new client had brought someone along, that or...
...
Although that doesn't explain what the hell had happened to make someone say... that.
Of course I had noticed that Captain Socks the Terrible's inherent cuteness made people's intelligence immediately lower when in their presence, but the cat usually didn't bother acknowledging our clients unless they were carrying something of interest. And... well, there were limits to everything.
Peeking inside showed that a certain young Phantomhive had decided to grace us with his presence, a spooked grimace on his face as he flattened himself against the door as if considering running for it, while a certain Sebastian the bad dog TM was making goo goo eyes at the cat, who was busy eating whatever the dog-butler had been carrying before the cat had decided that it now belonged to her.
"Keep that cat away from me! I'm allergic to cats." A screech made me look back to the youngest in the room and away from the ridiculous butler. "Sebastian! Don't bring him any closer to me!" The Phantomhive fretted, already sneezing when the bad dog butler decided to show his finding to his master.
"It's a her." I felt the need to point out when the cat sent the kid a death glare that could curl milk, making the bad dog positively squeal. The little Phantomhive didn't look very happy with the explanation, and just scurried away from both evil cat and bad butler dog. I couldn't blame him, the cat's glare was kind of scary.
"It's a lady! Such a cute lady, in fact. Look at these noble paws, so fluffy and cute. Magnificent." The butler decided to start playing with Captain Socks the Terrible's paws, making the cat glare at the butler like he should just bow and crawl before her might, maybe even saying something like 'I'm not a plushie for you to play with, peasant! Now crawl and beg for forgiveness!'.
Or something like that.
I either had nailed it, when it came to the cat's expressions or this Sebastian guy had thought exactly the same, because te next thing he did was kneel in front of the cat, apologizing for his rudeness in front of such a noble lady.
...
I looked at Undertaker for some kind of explanation, but I was only met by a perfect poker face, or at least what was a poker face for Taker, which meant that it seemed that someone had drawn a smile and literally glued it to his face, making it look kind of... strained. He either found this funny but didn't like the dog-butler, or he was completely weirded out by the dog's actions. The first option was the most likely, considering there were little things that could weird out the weirdest person I know.
Well, I guess that not all dogs and cats have to get along like... dogs and cats.
"So... how can we help?" I asked the little Phantomhive after a beat, not bearing to look further at the strange pair. There was something inherently wrong with that scene.
"Uh... I... Yes... I..." The little Phantomhive stuttered for a second before deciding to ignore the butler altogether, turning to grace Undertaker with his attention. Awww... I had been the one to ask, not Taker. Why is little Phantomhive ignoring me? Maybe he didn't like me hugging him last time.
As I tried to hide the pout and dejected aura, I couldn't help but sneak suspicious glances here and there, making sure the cat wasn't going to do anything to Phantomhive's dog. Or the other way around.
Knowing Captain Socks as I do... that dog isn't leaving this place without some form of... gift of appreciation.
Like a scratch. Or a bite. Although Captain Socks doesn't usually gift bites to new people, that's a special privilege that comes with living with her.
It was strange.
Biscuit doesn't really react badly to the cat, but they did at least give the cat its much needed space, not like they acted around us at all. This Sebastian dog's behavior was more like... the way Biscuit acted around me. Which is strange.
Phantomhive isn't neglecting his dog, is he?
I mean... not that I'm doubting Phantomhive's ability to take care of his dog, but maybe Sebastian had been taken care of by his parents before the fire, and after their death maybe the dog was... a bit confused on how to behave.
It's none of my business but... even if I don't like the bad dog, I should probably make sure the kid knows how to take care of a demon hound. Not that I'm an expert, of course. I just have a bit more of experience. Maybe I could give him some pointers?
But... what if he doesn't realize this human looking Sebastian was actually a dog? That would explain the... not-neglecting situation. It could happen, I'm pretty sure there are very dense people running around.
Should I help him subtly? But I don't know how to do that. I'm not very subtle myself.
Should I ask Taker? He usually knows how to slip things past people's notice.
I looked at the mortician, who was trying to get the earl to pay up by being creepy.
Maybe later.
I glanced at the dog and cat duo, and then at Biscuit who was all but growling at them in a corner, ears flat against his head making them invisible to the casual eye.
Then I looked at the butler again, no dog ears in sight.
How did he hide his dog ears? I'm pretty sure Biscuit can do that too, but they don't like to do it very often, forcing me to hide their head. At least the tail was easier to hide when Biscuit didn't feel like being cooperative.
I inched towards the fawning dog, making the cat glance at me in what I interpreted as: 'get this lowly trash out of my sight, servant! Before I scratch both of your faces for the insolence!' Needless to say that I inched back to the earl in an attempt to get him to make his dog release the cat.
"Ahem... earl..." I mumbled around the reaper, who was making pouty faces at the kid. Well, pouty faces... they were probably disturbing pouty faces of the earl is making that terrified expression, but I can't really find anything wrong with that. Maybe I have just... grown used to it? I wouldn't know, I find it cute.
The earl obviously didn't.
"Earl... can you make your dog leave the cat alone? I'm pretty sure the cat is not happy..." I mumbled, looking worriedly at the quickly vexed cat, whipping her tail from side to side.
A snort made me turn to the reaper, who had a hand over his hand in an attempt to avoid my notice, the earl quickly following suit with the action.
"Dog?" An incredulous whispered I couldn't trace the origins of, before everyone's attention was stolen by an enraged meow.
Four heads (yes, even Biscuit's) turned to the butler, who was sporting a scratch on his cheek, his expression a mix of apologetic silence and aggravated vexation, making me blink at him.
"I..." the bad dog quickly composed himself, smiling widely even if his smile was clearly fake. "am not a dog." He clarified, making me realize he probably heard me.
Not that I had been trying to be subtle. I really don't know how to do that beyond sneaking silently away.
"I see..." I stated, for his sake more than anything else. I wasn't about to fall for that obvious lie, but I would play along if he didn't want his master to know.
"I really am not." He insisted, probably to make sure I wouldn't out him again. He probably didn't appreciate I had threatened his work.
"Of course" I agreed, agreeing to not reveal him further. I had thought of the possibility that the little Phantomhive didn't know, but I had never thought that the dog would be purposefully trying to keep that knowledge from him.
I really like the earl better than the dog, though... so maybe I should reveal him anyways? Although maybe Sebastian is scared that the earl will kick him out if he thinks he's a demon hound so maybe it would be nicer if I didn't...
Ugh... it's not really my problem, is it? If Taker hasn't said anything to the earl then I shouldn't either.
The butler far from appreciating my attempts seemed to grow more and more aggravated by the second, an eye twitching out of control. The corners of Taker's smile turned a tad more real in response.
I really don't get why the bad dog butler so angry at me, it's not like I had insulted him or anything, right? I was trying to help him out!
The dog didn't seem to think of it that way, as he glared daggers at my head for the rest of their stay. At least both Taker and Phantomhive found it funny.
Somehow.
I had been sitting outside peacefully, watering my small garden -or what had survived if my garden after Hercules decided to help himself- when I heard it.
It was a terrified scream, coming from inside the shop, making me jump in fright before frowning in confusion.
The only reason someone would be screaming was if one of our guests had decided that being dead wasn't really their thing and came back... which only happened once, and by the mortician's antics he seemed to have been perfectly aware of that guest's... non-dead condition.
So either he was terrifying a poor guest or client... or the mortician was the one to produce that scream.
No one ate his pot of marmalade, did they? It was the reaper's latest craze craving, and... well. It would justify the girly scream that came from the shop.
Taker didn't go out of his way to terrorize women like he did with Phantomhive... most of the time... with the exception of yours truly...
...
I hope he's not scaring some poor girl half to death.
I entered our home through the kitchen and made my way into the shop, finding upon entering the mortician comfortably seated on top of some guy. I noticed with vague confusion that the shop seemed to be closed, and Undertaker seemed to be eating a cookie with a self satisfied air around him.
I didn't ask. Nope. I don't want to know.
Instead I kept walking towards the reaper, snatched the cookie he was about to plop into his mouth and ate the cookie, staring at the presumed intruder with an expectant look.
"Hey~!" The reaper protested, trying to reach for the cookie I had already eaten, only to stop and cross his arms with a pout, which was immediately discarded when he noticed I wasn't looking at him. "Say hello to our little friend~! He's been soooo... kind as to come all this way here~! Shouldn't we reward him in some way~?" The mortician asked, his wider than normal smile and the fact that he was still seated on top of the man revealing this was no friend. "So~ kind, yes~... what could we give him as a thank you gift~? How about..." at this the white haired reaper nodded to a discarded object on the floor making my eyes trail to it. "I know what we could do~! Hi hi hi hi~! How about I point that thing at you and I gift you with the little present it contains~?" The mortician made a positively evil smirk, nodding again in the gun's direction.
It looked old, nothing like the guns I had seen in movies before, this seemed more taken out of a movie placed in some old... Ah, Yeah. I was in the past, I don't know how I forgot, considering the most luxurious thing in here is the flushing toilet. We don't even have a refrigerator. We have to eat everything we buy the same day we buy it.
Blinking at the newly realized threat -even if did look old fashioned, that doesn't mean that being shot by it will hurt any less- I watched the man under te reaper pale as he tried to squirm away without any success.
The reaper may not be fat, but he is tall as hell, and can pack a bit more weight than expected. I still was skeptical that the man really was as immobilized as he seemed to be, after all I carried the reaper on my back all the time to train... much to my chagrin and his amusement.
"E-even if I d-die... Boss will still kill you and yours..." The man managed to get through, proving to have a bit more of a spine than a first look had shown.
"Reaaaally~?" The reaper drawled, quite amused if his subtle head tilt to go along with the drawled out word was any indication, all but challenging the man to open his big mouth.
The man, far from seeing his intentions from a mile long, seemed to take it as some kind of insult, as if the mortician doubting his words was some kind of big offense to him. I... really don't get it.
I decided to leave the mortician to his interrogation as the man started running him mouth like a true chatterbox, spewing more and more threats, talking about a boss who would conquer the world or something like that.
I didn't actually hear anything about conquering the world, but that boss seemed like a villain of some sort, and all villains want to conquer the world at some point or another of their careers, so that was as good of an assumption as any.
I took the gun's handle carefully and walked out of there. Despite knowing Undertaker wouldn't actually resort to do something as extreme as shooting the man, I didn't actually trust any of them to put the thing to any good use.
Carefully leaving the object on the kitchen like it would try to bite me at any second, I sat and stared hard at it.
What do I do with this thing now? I don't even know how to handle one, what if I accidentally shoot someone?
An indiscernible amount of time later, Biscuit came back from their play time with Captain Socks and its crooked band of criminal cats, the leader of the aforementioned band lazily walking in behind the dog like she owned the house, jumping onto the table with a dignified huff and sniffing at the object I had been engrossed examining.
Seeing Captain Socks the Terrible sniffing at the current source of my worries, made me startle and snatch the cat away from the table and onto my lap, looking at the gun as if waiting for the gun to take offense somehow and shoot despite not being touched.
One never knows.
"Lia what are you doing?" The mortician asked me as he slowly walked beck into the shop, the intruder nowhere to be seen.
"Where's... that guy?" I asked, warily watching the mortician's movements and clothes to determine that he was completely unharmed.
"Oh, him~? It doesn't matter, love~! I was just making sure he would have a few friends to talk to as a gift for all that lovely information~... although I'm not very sure they will answer... he he he~" he cackled, smirk wide as he covered his mouth with a hand, bashfully waving his other hand in my direction like I had just complimented him or something. "What about you, my dearest~? What were you looking so intently at~?" He walked to stand at my side, seemingly staring at the gun in an exaggerated manner, finally turning around and stating blankly "it's a gun" as if I hadn't already known that after looking at it for a good while.
"I know" I answered, turning again to the weapon to glare it into submission. The gun stood valiantly my glare and seemed completely unaffected by it.
"Mhmm..." The mortician hummed, glancing between me and the gun back and forth with a blank expression.
Then he made a grab for the weapon.
"Nooo!" I threw myself at the reaper's arm with a wail, trying to prevent him from touching the gun. The mortician blinked in surprise but thankfully didn't flinch, and released the gun with a careful look sent my way. "Don't touch it! What if it shoots?" I asked, making the mortician's confused expression light up with amusement.
"Hehehe~ don't worry~ even if it does shoot -which it won't unless you mess with it- a mere gunshot is not going to kill me anytime~" He appeased, making me pout at him with a confused frown. "It just stings quite a bit~" he concluded, smiling like that should be all I needed to forget the incident and start prancing around in happiness.
I glared at the reaper in reprimand, making him pout again as he finally retracted his arm from the table and consequently the weapon, sitting next to me and getting comfortable as the cat decided the mortician's lap was more comfortable than mine.
He started at the gun just like I was doing, sneaking glances at me from time to time.
After what seemed like forever the mortician finally mentioned that Zephyr's Boss wasn't very happy with us and had decided to send their regards... or whatever that meant. I'm pretty sure the mortician's words are actually some sort of metaphor, but I can't actually decipher what for.
Sighing tiredly I debated going back to my plants, before realizing that whatever had survived Hercules' last attempt at eating my plants was probably dead by now. No way Hercules wouldn't take the obvious opportunity to fill his tummy. He's lazy and somewhat apathetic, not stupid.
I wailed internationally as Stephanie got a head start on the garden competition he probably didn't know we were on. No matter, I could compete his quantity with quality. Hopefully. At least Hercules seemed to like my plants... if that counts...
Yeah it does! Score for me! Take that Stephanie!
Looking back at the mortician with far more pride than a destroyed garden deserved, I came face to face with a horrible sight: Undertaker going to pick up the gun.
I launched myself at his back, which he didn't bother dodging. "Taker don't touch that!" I mumbled from the place on his back as I tried to pin him down with absolute zero success.
"Hey!" The reaper whined, not releasing the gun from his hold. "But I was going to throw this garbage away!" The mortician complained, trying to keep the weapon from me as I tried to grab for it.
"Taker!" I kicked at the reaper's feet, trying to get the weapon while he was distracted. He by his part sharply kneeled, not because I had hit him, but in an attempt to throw me off without touching me, proven when he sharply jumped into the air and almost made me hit my head with the roof of the kitchen. I almost let go, but stubbornly decided to keep the hold on my prey.
"What do you two idiots think you're doing?!" An angry voice wailed from below as the mortician descended with an angry grumble.
Far from letting me explain the situation to Tofu, Taker ran towards the nearest wall and sharply stopped, making me almost hit my head with his and fall. Luckily, by this point I had forgotten anything regarding our struggle for the gun in our shared grasp and just attached myself to the reaper with everything I had, the only reason I hadn't let go of the weapon was... stubbornness? That or the fact that I was too busy screaming to let go of anything until the reaper stopped.
He apparently didn't get that, taking my refusal to release his hand, which was holding the gun, as a challenge of sorts, all but somersaulting into the shop, barely grazing the roof again.
"You... pair of... IDIOTS! Come back here!" Tofu yelled angrily as he tried to run after us, it's tiny toy legs unable to keep up with the reaper's long ones as he jumped like a mad goat around the shop.
When he came to a stop -after he finally heard my threat to puke on him again- Taker's smile was as bright as the sun, all but radiating creepy vibes. At least he was in a good mood now...
By my part I felt like my body was made of some kind of watery jelly, my boneless form sliding to the floor soundlessly as I finally breathed.
I watched from the floor as the reaper eyed me up, my blank face staring up at him. My nerves are fried, I don't think I can feel anything right now...
I just stared as Tofu ran to us and started kicking Taker on the shins, watching when the man mocked the toy's shot height and completely ignored him, spinning the gun in circles with his finger on the trigger.
No. You know what? If it hasn't gone off with all that bullshit and with the idiot's antics, then there's nothing to worry about. The man can go bald for all I care.
Go bald.
The reaper had the gall to laugh at my face, putting the gun on a coffin as he went to pick me up so I would stop wasting space.
Tofu grumbled as he looked wearily at the weapon, investigating it for all of three seconds before leaving it with a scornful huff. Obviously Tofu though he was above human contraptions.
Biscuit, who had followed us when we started somersaulting around the shop with an excited tail wag, ran to us again in an attempt to get us to do that again, apparently finding it a very amusing game.
In the dog's excitement, Biscuit toppled over a flower decoration, tripped over the decorative skull -I really hope it's only decorative- that Taker always has laying around and stumbled on the edge of two different coffins coming to stand next to us with an excited smile, tongue out and tail wagging with the strength of a whip.
In fact, the tail even knocked over the gun Taker had left on a coffin, but with the way Biscuit seemed to be unable to step three feet without stumbling, I think it was nothing but a miracle Biscuit hadn't knocked it over as they steamrolled across the shop with the grace of a three footed elephant in a glassware shop.
The gun clacked as it fell to the ground, making my blood freeze as both me and Taker stared in abject horror at the gun.
It clacked on the ground with a harmless sound, but nothing more.
...
With a shaky smile -the bastard knew how dangerous it was and still played around with it just to give me a heart attack!- the mortician shrugged as he finally hefted me up, making me breath anew. I hadn't realized I had stopped breathing when I saw the impending disaster, making me dizzy.
"So... are you finally convinced~?" The mortician asked, taking the gun with a hand as he carried me with the other. I know I don't occupy that much space, but he could at least stop acting as if I was some kid he was carrying around. I'm not that small, he's just tall.
The mortician walked to the kitchen and with a careless shrug he left the gun on the table once again, depositing me on the floor afterwards, but not before paying the toll in the form of a hug.
Biscuit made their way back, following us with an excited bark, almost tackling us when they stumbled once again. Clumsy Biscuit, so cute.
"So... how do we get rid of this?" I finally asked, poking the weapon with a bit of lingering distrust as I debated throwing it out of the window and calling it a day.
"Mhmm...? Don't worry, love~! I'll take care of that~." He sang, poking my stomach with a smirk. "I do need to see who does this belong to, but after I get a bullet shot I will throw it away." He reassured when I swatted his hand away with a pout, hugging Biscuit when they jumped in between us to get some attention. Cute Biscuit, so starved for some love.
As I internally gushed about Biscuit's cuteness and how much love I would give them -such a furry ball of love!- Taker decided to Take offense to something or another, huffing and puffing like an offended cat.
And talking about cats...
Where's our very own demon-cat?
The sound of Undertaker's silent scream -I swear, he didn't make a sound, but it was almost as if he was screaming from the way he widened his eyes in panic and his body tensed, a hand going to push me behind him but only managing to bar me from interfering in the impending disaster.
Captain Socks The Terrible, destroyer of worlds and chaos bringer, was standing on our kitchen table. Right next to the gun. With its paw right next to the gun.
Captain Socks the Terrible, damn her to hell and back, stared at us with its evil eyes, damning us for forgetting her existence. Then, she glanced at the gun next to her, and then back at our frozen forms.
Then, with a lightening quick swipe, she pushed the gun to the floor with an aggravated growl.
See? That cat is evil. Whoever said that animals are innocent angels from heaven was obviously talking about dogs. Our cat is the devil and no one can convince me otherwise.
The gun clacked to the ground for the second time of the day, and right as the gun hit the ground harmlessly and I believed that it wouldn't shot in the end, a loud sound left me half deaf and made me stumble back with a startled flinch.
After a second in which I examined myself with panicked glance, I turned to the suddenly tame Biscuit, who was staring in fear at the cat like she was some sort of vengeful god about to kill us all. Captain Socks the Horrible, Terrible, Destroyer of Happiness and Demon incarnate, seemed to have been equally unprepared for the loud sound, and ran like a bat out of hell, ears flattened against its head and hid under a table, wide eyes looking everywhere.
After I made sure the animals were unharmed, I turned to the reaper, who had stood still through the whole ordeal, only turning to glance at me when I put a hand on his arm.
"Are you okay?" I asked, a bit worried about him.
"Yeah. Don't worry. I did need a bullet of that gun, didn't I~? Well, now I have it. I just..." He went a bit quiet at this, eyeing both me and Biscuit with a passing glance. "...need to get it out." He finally mumbled, looking around for something. Probably the bullet.
After a blink he slowly walked to the shop and then the basement, where he took care of the dead. I followed him downstairs, confused about why he was going down there when we should be searching for the bullet and getting rid of the gun.
"Taker? Where are you going? Shouldn't we find the bullet? What if someone finds it?" I asked, unsure if this was the time to tinker with the dead. Why if the bullet hits someone?
"Don't worry love, I already found it." He said with a low hiss, making me blink at his back as he retrieved and laid the medical tools he used to mend our guests on an vacant table, he then proceeded to sit on it and strip.
"Wha-wha-wha-... what are you doing?! What the..." I started, blinking at a seemingly wet spot on the black robes he just discarded. Touching the wet spot with a finger turned said finger red. "Taker! You're bleeding! Takeeeeer! You're going to dieeeeeee?!" I started wailing, not even stopping when the mortician used me as a bedside table, throwing his clothes over my head until he was left only with his pants and shoes, his bare chest exposed and revealing the big scar he had across his chest and a newly made injury, dark red blood lazily dripping down his chest.
It wasn't bleeding very heavily, but that just meant that the wound was easily located: on his left pectoral, right above his heart.
"Takeeeeer! You're going to dieeeeee!" I wailed, scrambling to think of a way to fix him.
"Little Lia, I'm not dying. It's just a gunshot, I won't die from that." He laughed it off, sending me an amused look before he picked up a pair of tweezers from the bunch of tools he had set aside.
What do I do? What do I do?! I can't let him die just like that! I can't! If he dies... if he dies... I... I...
I need to do something! But what can I do? I'm just a human! I'm not... Wait! I have this gamer thing, right? Didn't I have a healing skill or something?!
As I frantically started opening menus over menus trying to find the skill, Taker started cleaning the wound. It was relatively clean already, considering it was bleeding less than I would expect for a shot to the heart, but maybe it had missed the mortician's vital squishy organs. I can only hope.
Skills skills skills...
Eat Rainbows, Throwing, Meditation, Magic binding... those were the chains, right? Not what I need right now.
Strength of a thousand gods, Detect presence, Cooking and Gourmet Cooking, Dish Washing... this is useless! Why can't i find it?
Hey! Charm is at level 47! I wonder what will happen if I reach 50?
Focus Dalia, focus! Taker is dying over there! Well, not really, he's taking his time making sure all the tools are clean...
Idiot.
My Mastery of Blunt Weapons is at 28? I have used it way more than the Cutting Weapons, but its still high... but I can't heal Taker by hitting him with his stick, so this is useless for now.
Oh, hey! Observe! Haven't seen this one in a while... since last time Taker reminded me... hehehe... ups. It's level 15... sort of pathetic, compared to everything else...
Impervous, Create clay minion, Magic Projectile, Physical Protection, Power strike... I should keep practicing that... later.
Here! Healing magic level 16. This should be it.
I turned to the reaper just to stifle a horrified gasp. My blood frozen in my veins at the sight.
"Taker what are you doing?!" I jumped, trying to still the mortician's hands.
"Widening the hole. It's too small for me to see properly." He stated, like I hadn't just caught him carving a hole into his chest. I furiously started slapping his hands away, putting mine around the wound and healing it frantically in an attempt to save him.
"Lia..." he tried to say, stopping when I started wailing like a baby.
"Uhhh... Taker is stupid and should go bald! You're going to die and your great idea is making the hole bigger! Stupid stupid stupid!" I started chanting, ignoring the mortician's attempts to defend himself.
He finally sighed, looking grumpily at the tender skin I had managed to regrow.
"Damnit Dalia, I wasn't done yet." He complained, instantly changing onto a more benign expression when he saw me about to bite his head off, tears cascading down my cheeks without an end. "I mean... thanks. For uh... saving me from that... bad- I mean terrible..." he started, looking into my face as if trying to read something. "...mortal... Uh... injury. Yeah." He finished, looking down at his chest with a chagrined expression, suddenly looking up at me with a strange face. "Uh... could you fetch me... Mhmm... the... Eh... thing? Yeah. The thing. You must know what I'm talking about. The thing." He stated seriously, making no sense whatsoever.
Uh... I looked at him. He was still bare chested, a small amount of blood reaching his belly button and making him shudder and wipe at it with his already bloodied hand.
"The... thing? A shirt? A towel to clean yourself?" I offered, not sure what could he need, but determined to give it to him, whatever it was. I wiped my tears in an attempt to be strong. I have healed him, he's going to be okay. He's not dying anymore, relax.
"Yeah. That. Both of those, actually. You can... go along now." He made a shooing motion in my direction. Maybe he wanted privacy?
But he's still bloody, and Taker doesn't even know the meaning of the word 'private'.
Getting up slowly on shaky legs, I decided to just do as he asked, turning around to try to fetch one of the towels he used to cover our guest's private parts when in I was around.
Did he put those under the small table next to the entrance, or in the cabinet on the other side of the room?
Once I finally managed to get the towel and a shirt from the pile Taker uses to dress his guests with, I turned to the reaper, only to find him with a hole in his heart and a bullet in his hand.
"Look Lia, I found the bullet~!" He cheered, completely ignoring he was bleeding again, having somehow reopened his wound. I started panicking again, my fried nerves unable to deal with this calmly. The only reason I haven't fainted from fright was probably that Gamer Mind thing that Tofu gave me.
"Takeeeeeer!" I roared, tackling him and healing him again and again until I was left without MP, leaving me with an oddly empty feeling in my chest and a completely healed reaper, skin shining healthily and even his old scars looked more smooth to the touch.
I dropped to the floor with a relieved sigh, not reacting even when Taker picked me up and carried me to the table he had been bleeding on not even five minutes ago. I felt strangely drained, both emotionally and physically.
"Taker don't scare me like that. I don't think my heart can take it." I wailed, clinging to the reaper when he sat next to me and pat me on the head.
It felt nice, but that didn't mean I was about to forgive him for scaring me like that.
He just laughed at my distress, saying nonsense about not dying from a simple bullet and how I was a worrywart even if a cute one.
He stopped laughing when I socked him on the face for touching his already healed bullet hole, whining as I wrapped some bandages around his torso and dressing him in the shirt I had fetched.
And he spent the rest of the day with a black eye regardless of how much he begged for me to heal him.
That should teach him to give me heart attacks.
In the middle of the night, Biscuit started barking out of nowhere. In the middle of the night, when everyone is supposed to be sleeping.
A squeak from me and a pair of narrowed eyes from Undertaker was the only answer to the frantic scratches the dog was inflicting to our poor door.
I looked at the mortician in askance before slowly getting up and walking silently to the door in question.
Slipping through as the mortician held Biscuit back I made my way silently downstairs, mentally beating myself for offering to investigate in the first place. I hadn't let Taker do anything without me being there to make sure he wasn't about to drop dead, and I wasn't about to start changing that precisely now. But that didn't mean I liked walking around the shop in the middle of the night.
The shop is really scary at night, especially when I'm pretty sure there is someone there that shouldn't be, but it would be more terrifying to let Taker take care of it while he's injured -even if he's not injured anymore- and me having to wait at the bedroom stewing in uncertainty.
A soft creak near the stairs made my worries go haywire, dissipating any doubts about the possibility of Biscuit being wrong.
Exactly on the third step starting from the first floor, someone had put their foot, making the old wood creak like it was being killed. I keep telling Taker to fix it, as it is quite a disturbing sound, but the reaper had a soft spot for everything old and creepy, I never will ask again to change it after this.
As I silently crouched next to the stairs I attempted to make out the figure I knew was there but couldn't see.
After a few seconds of stillness in which the intruder stood still trying to figure out if they had been noticed, the person moved again, revealing a somewhat lean figure with something reflective at where I guessed was their eyes and I assumed were glasses. Either that or it was too dark and I was imagining things.
The figure -which I'm pretty sure I am NOT imagining- kept walking up the steps until they were standing right over the place I was hiding in, crouched and waiting.
After they had passed me by without noticing my presence -time I used to berate myself and try to figure out what I was supposed to do in this situation- I decided to jump on the person and bring them to Taker. He would know what to do.
So I... kind of jumped into the figure's back and tied them up in so many of my magic chains that I wouldn't have been able to see their face even if I tried. I heard a crack that I guessed were the glasses being abused, but I didn't let go.
I dragged the bunch of chains that supposedly contained a figure to the reaper without much trouble.
Undertaker was wagging his finger in front of Biscuit in a reprimanding manner, to which I countered by throwing the intruder at the reaper's face and petting Biscuit firmly. Biscuit did a good job, regardless of whatever the mortician said. Biscuit is good.
The... bundle of chains tried to squirm free of their bindings without much success. For the attempt Undertaker decided to let go of the bundle of chains, making the figure drop to the floor in a painful heap.
As the reaper kicked the bundle of chains with a single foot a few muffled curses escaped the trapped intruder.
Taker attempted to crouch to reveal the poor sod -a man if the voice speaking curses is any indication- that decided to try their luck, but I stopped him so I could do it. He huffed with an amused smirk, mumbling something about being a worrywart but let me do it instead.
I don't care if he says he's fine and how many times he tries to prove me he's unhurt. I'm not letting him strain himself until I'm certain he's not going to start bleeding again.
An inspection revealed none other than Mr. Dimwit, an angry scowl on his face an a big blush on his cheeks.
"Oh... it's just Mr. Dimwit" Mr. Dimwit didn't seem to like being dismissed like that, and started growling and trying to escape again.
"I have a name! And what the hell is wrong with you?!" He spat glaring daggers at us both.
I turned to look at the reaper when he moved to pick Mr. Dimwit up again, ignoring my protests on the matter.
And threw him out of the window, chains and all.
...
"Shouldn't we have listened to what he had to say first? Or at least take the chains off before throwing him out..." I pointed out, blinking when the mortician went to the bed and laid on it having decided that whatever the reason Mr. Dimwit has to break into our home at this hour it wasn't important enough.
"Don't care." He grumbled with a pout. He then turned to my still form, still uncertain if I shouldn't help the blond reaper out at least a little bit or join the Undertaker in bed. He made grabby motions with his hands ultimately making up my mind for me. "Liaaaaa take care of meee~" he whined, smiling wide when I gave up on helping one reaper to pamper another in love. "Mhmmm~... I feel so loved~" he mumbled, relishing in being pampered by me.
...
I'm starting to think I may be spoiling him a bit too much...
Mhmm... no.