This is what happens when spiders, snakes, crazy teachers, and missions happen to not be an issue on a lazy Sunday:
"Hey Soul, you ever wonder about Shinigami's name?"
The crimson-eyed weapon glanced at her; he did not move from his idle sprawl on the couch.
"No."
"Well, he's also known as the Grim Reaper,"
"So?"
"Well, that's saying he's using a scythe,"
"What about scythes?"
"Well, I think it's funny that they're a weapon—"
"What?!" Soul finally moved, "Since when are they funny?"
"Well," Maka twirled her hair around her finger, trying not to smile, "They're a farming tool, not a weapon,"
Soul's eyes flashed.
"Apparently not! They're a weapon!" Maka laughed now.
"One difference away and Shinigami could have been the Grim Pitchfork, and you could have been a plow for all we know," She laughed harder at this, noticing Soul's face.
"You're just insulting yourself!" He threw back
"Hey--" Maka chuckled, "If a rake can get the job done--"
"Shut up!"
Maka let her snickers subside. They both sat in lethargic silence. Then Maka broke the ice again.
"By the way, what's that thing you always wear in your hair? Is it a headband?"
--
Yeah, Maka destroys Soul's dignity in their free time. I've been trying to break by writer's block. My friend and I came up with this while running around the neighborhood. Yeah….