RATING: T (for minor dark themes, death mentions, and some coarse language)
SPOILER WARNING: Contains Spoilers for Kuroshitsuji Musical II: The Most Beautiful DEATH in The World
SPECIAL NOTE: I refer to Grell with female pronouns, and generally think of her as a trans woman. While I understand the argument that she could also be nonbinary fem, she has made her pronouns very clear multiple times in canon... heck, her first line in the musical is correcting Will about that! However Grell may identify more specifically when it comes to gender, I think it's important to refer to people by their pronouns of choice, even if you don't always understand why they identify with those particular ones.
Homophobic/transphobic/etc. reviews are not welcome. Take your baggage elsewhere.
A Day at the Reaper Dispatch Office
"Grell, pick that up for me, would you?"
Grell raised her impeccably plucked brows in disbelief. The object in question lay halfway across the room under a desk, where it had landed when she dodged it a moment before. She glared at the speaker, who had also thrown the projectile.
The problem with Alan, Grell reflected, was that he looked so damn innocent. The sad eyes and youthful features half-hidden behind a wispy fringe of soft brown hair made him seem almost angelic (that is, if you had never met an actual angel. Grell hated angels).
He was the polar opposite of Eric, his usual partner. Eric looked edgy, intimidating. Some of the new recruits would be a little scared of him at first. But once you got to know him, Eric proved to be polite, soft-spoken, and easy-going, and while he kept everyone at arm's length (except Alan, of course), he was friendly and easy to talk to. In fact, the only time Eric really got testy was when he and Alan were quarrelling like an old married couple. You'd never guess that it was Eric's babyfaced counterpart that you had to worry about.
But even once you knew Alan was a snarky little shit, he was almost impossible to read at a glance. Right now, those tragic, heartbreakingly weary eyes were focused on Grell earnestly.
"I'm sorry, you threw this at me and now you want me to go fetch it? Like a dog?" Grell snarled.
Alan's lips curled in the faintest hint of a wry smirk, despite the pale, drawn quality of his face. It was clearly a bad day for him. He probably didn't have that many good days left before the pain of the Thorns was constant, inescapable. "I'm sick. I'm dying, remember?"
Grell glanced at the offending object on the floor. It was one of those stupid stress toys where if you squeezed it, it stuck out its tongue and squeaked. It lay there, as seemingly innocent as its owner, beside a dust bunny. She looked back at Alan. His expression remained the same, quietly pleading, with just the slightest smile.
Grell knew perfectly well that no matter how much pain Alan was in, if he were talking to Eric, he'd be loudly protesting that he didn't need any help. He'd get his idiotic toy himself if he had to crawl across the floor on his hands and knees.
She bared her shark-like teeth at Alan.
Alan merely looked back mildly.
"Woof," Grell muttered defiantly, and went to go fetch.