Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater or any other references mentioned.

Warning: I call him Lord Death. Not Shinigami and DWMA instead of Shibusen. Also, more of my weird filler details.

Work

Wednesday, after the DWMA had released its students for the day, Spirit stood in the Death Room helping Lord Death monitor progress as he usually most every day. Much to his dismay, that meant spending more time at work and less time with his family. Normally he didn't mind it as much but today he felt especially indifferent about the whole working late thing. Today, in general had been bad. One student had ditched entirely and Spirit had been sent out to bring him back to school which led to a wild goose chase around town. Not even an hour later an unspecified meeting had been held to deal with "problems" indiscreetly hinting that he was getting special treatment by Lord Death, which was not true. If anything his work hours were completely abused. At least those whiners got to leave at five. Today had been indeed a long day. Spirit sighed loudly and moodily crossed his arms.

"What's got you so down today, huh?" Lord Death inquired. His glove-like extremities were almost constantly in motion as he had a tendency to talk with his hands. Every time the redheaded man looked at them for too long he could almost see the bits of menacing, black claws that threatend to burst out at any moment and devour him and anything else around and- needless to say, it had been a long day.

"Nothing." Spirit slouched and walked over to the platform. He sighed again for added dramatics.

"It's obviously not "nothing"?" The grim reaper prompted, turning his head to the side.

"I hate these late nights. I can't even pick up my little Maka from school anymore."

"Spirit, you do realize that she's just around the corner. You could've just asked,"

"I never get to see my family anymore," At this point, the scythe was now gesturing wildly, talking with his hands like he usually did when he was ranting.

"Spirit,"

"It's not that I don't like working with you, I just like my family more and,"

"Hey now," The irritation in Lord Death's voice went unnoticed.

"Wait, wait, wait. That was the wrong wording."

"Spirit!"

The said man stepped off of the platform. His gaze was fixated on a low flying cloud to his left.

"Sorry did you say something?" The room still smelt like lunch—plump chicken served cold with a mildly hot mustard sauce, flaky tarts filled with spinach, cheese, and salmon. A cluster of plump grapes had garnished the plate. In two expensive looking china bowls held icy tomato soup with a dallop of what Spirit had guessed to be something like sour cream- nothing but the best for the higher ups. It wasn't that Spirit could exactly smell all that, it was just nagging at the back of his mind, just behind his daughter and wife. Monitoring with Lord Death was last on the list.

He clearly had his priorities in order.

The grim reaper returned the sigh. "If you have any problems, you can always tell me about them. That is your work problems. I do decide most of your days off ya know." He stated.

Spirit stared vacantly at the huge entry way, built to resemble guillotines. It was funny to him that the sky was cheery with the clouds and then there were the seemingly miles of crosses standing on the landscape and the odd method of using torture contraptions as décor. And when he thought further about it, it brought him back to the goofy gloves everyone had come to know and love actually covering claws and he ended the thought train there. It was getting disturbing.

He waved his hand to acknowledge his superior's notion.

"Don't you ever get bored always being locked up in here?"

"I'm not always locked up in here. I do leave sometimes."

"I would hate to be you. Not getting to mingle with other members of your species and all,"

"I'm a grim reaper." He answered flatly.

"Not what I meant. How's your kid by the way? What was his name?"

"Kid. Death the Kid and he's fine."

"What kind of name is Kid?" Spirit spat out a little too quickly. The concept of naming one's kid, Kid was a concept that went right above his head and out of his reach. If it was a joke, it wasn't funny. "Now Maka is a name for a kid. It's subtle yet cute and,"

"Reaper Chop!"

Claws or no claws, there was definitely something under those gloves… and it felt a lot like a ton of bricks. The death scythe clutched his now throbbing head. Was it bleeding? He checked. It was not. At least he was spared of that.

"Go home, Spirit. You've had a long day and you're irritating me." He turned back to his mirror. "Maka's waiting for you outside." His voice lowered and became void of emotion.

In fear of another chop to the head, Spirit nodded gratefully, thanked him and dashed out.

As he exited the Death Room completely, Maka was waiting for him. She grinned and tilted her head to get a better view of her guardian.

"How was your day, Papa?" Her pigtails were a little higher up then usual and were secured with checkered print ribbons to match her jumper. Spirit tented his fingers and clenched his jaw. Deciding not to bother his cute little daughter with his less than amazing day at work, he settled with avoiding the subject entirely. "Never mind my day. How was yours?"

Maka crinkled her brow. "It was fine, but I want to know about yours."

She was persistent. Just like her mother. How adorable. Spirit gushed at his daughter and her cute sassiness as they walked home. He told her all of his work shenanigans and she informed him of her show and tell day. She had brought in a necklace he had picked out for her last year for her birthday.

By this time, it was four. Only one hour and thirty minutes early from when he usually got off work.

Author's Note: Well, this is less than remarkable on my part. When I say I'll update every week, I will sincerely try my best. I wanted to add a bit more weird to their dialogue section but my laptop is being a narcoleptic polar bear and I should probably let it sleep. So yeah.

Extra Note: I chose to write this instead of my report for English. Yeah. You are welcome. I have my priorities clearly in order. Don't judge me.

Later Folks

|:3