Disclaimer: I do not own Black Butler. The characters and canonical plot line are the works of Yana Toboso.
Aria's eyelashes fluttered as she slowly began to awaken from her slumber. Bleary-eyed, and still fighting her way out of the land of dreams, she sat up in her bed and reached blindly for her spectacles. She didn't know how bad the reapers' eyesight really was, but she doubted her vision was that much better. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose and glanced absently around the room. From the look of the sky outside, it seemed to be an hour or two past noon.
Very unwilling to leave her warm bed, but very aware that she had to, Aria slumped her shoulders and threw the covers back. When she finally hopped out, her feet hit the cold wood floor and she shivered. Quickly sliding on her slippers, she walked over to her writing table and sat down, flipping open her notebook.
A few hours was all the time she had left, and she needed to make sure her design was perfect. If it wasn't, the ambush would be delayed until she produced acceptable work, and who knew how many people would perish in the interim. With a sigh, she grabbed her pencil and started perfecting her work.
)*(
"I can't thank you gentlemen enough," Mrs. Holly enthused as the last of the plates was dried and put away. "Breakfast service went by ever so much faster than usual."
"Think nothing of it, Mrs. Holly," Sebastian returned, smiling sweetly. "It is our pleasure to help such a kind hearted woman as yourself."
The woman giggled to herself, a blush of delight coloring her cheeks.
"Do stop teasing me, Mr. Marlowe," she laughed, batting her hand. "I'm afraid I am far too old for you."
Sebastian gave a gracious bow of his head. "It is a pity, I confess. Women of your age are so much more refined."
This brought about another volley of amused chuckling from the boisterous cook.
Meanwhile, William was silently cleaning off the counter.
"Oh, Mr. Carton!" Mrs. Holly exclaimed once she saw what he was doing. "You needn't worry yourself over that! You have already helped me so much today, I couldn't possibly have you do all of the work!"
William simply continued his ministrations and stated, "It is no bother, Mrs. Holly. I am nearly done as it is."
The older woman smiled fondly. "You are such a sweetheart, young man. A shame you have to be stuck all the way out here with nary a soul to talk to aside from me. Well, at least you have Mr. Marlowe as a companion. It certainly is good the two of you get along so well."
The reaper tried his level best not to grimace. "Yes," he replied, "I suppose so."
Sebastian, in good spirits as usual, added, "I assure you, we are the best of friends. I thank the heavens every day that Mr. Carton was hired so soon after I arrived. Life would be terribly dull without him."
Refusing to let the demon get to him, William laid his rag aside and straightened up to his full height. "The counter is clean, Mrs. Holly. Thank you for giving us something to do; work has been surprisingly infrequent as of late."
The cook nodded sympathetically. "I can imagine so. What with the leave of so many of our former patients, I don't know why Ms. Dunne felt the need to hire two more aides. I'm grateful for it, however. You two have been the best of company." Then, thinking, she added, "I know that the both of you have done so much for me today already, but would you mind doing me one more favor?"
A frown was now replacing the permanent smile she wore, and William couldn't find it in himself to refuse. Besides, it wasn't like he had much else to do.
"Of course, Mrs. Holly. What do you need?"
Turning around, she picked up a small cloth that had two cookies bundled inside. With a slight smile she said, "I made my husband a batch of cookies last night and had some left over. I was just wondering if you could deliver these to the young lady at the front desk. Her name is Gertrude Davenport. The poor thing was only hired a few weeks ago, and she still hasn't come out of her shell. I'm hoping these will help cheer her up. I would take them myself, only I have to start preparing for dinner."
William nodded, accepting the parcel. "It is no trouble."
Mrs. Holly beamed once more. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Carton! You are a gem, you are!"
"I wouldn't go that far," William returned, "but I am happy to do this service."
Mrs. Holly shook her head. "There is no complimenting you I see. Nevertheless, I am grateful."
Running out of things to say, William rolled his sleeves down and stated, "I suppose I'll be going now."
"Yes, of course," Mrs. Holly said, nodding.
"I shall accompany you," Sebastian commented, fixing his sleeves as he went to join William.
"I'll leave it to the both of you, then," Mrs. Holly announced, heading toward the cupboard. "Again, you have my thanks."
"As you have ours," Sebastian returned, following William out the door.
They could hear Mrs. Holly humming to herself as they made their way back to the front of the asylum.
"Such a kind man you are, Mr. Carton," Sebastian mocked as they walked down the deserted corridor. "Tell me, are you always so accommodating?"
"I had no reason to refuse her," William stated in his usual monotone.
Sebastian smirked. "Indeed."
After a moment of silence, William asked, "Why did you accompany me? I highly doubt your motives were altruistic ones."
Sebastian chuckled. "Simply practical ones, I am afraid. I am expecting a reply from my Master, and intend to step outside to retrieve it."
"Earl Phantomhive has carrier pigeons?" William inquired, sounding vaguely surprised.
"Earl Phanotmhive has many things," Sebastian said. "He deemed carrier pigeons a necessity in his line of work, and I commend him on his foresight. An answer by post would have taken far too long."
"Quite," William agreed.
Their conversation ended when they entered the main room. It seemed a sin to break the ubiquitous quiet. They found Miss Davenport where she usually was, sitting meekly behind the front desk. This time, however, her attention was occupied. A sheet of paper was being clutched in both of her hands, and she appeared to be reading intently. When William and Sebastian reached her desk, she glanced up at them and started, dropping the letter on the floor.
William assumed she was going to pick it up, but she did no such thing. Instead, she stood over it, wringing her hands. Coming to the conclusion that she wasn't going to say anything, he lifted the parcel of cookies and stated, "A gift from Mrs. Holly."
For a moment she looked confused, but eventually caught herself and accepted the present.
"I shall thank her later," she muttered, untying the cloth and peeking at the goodies inside.
"I'm sure she will appreciate that," William responded. "Well, I suppose I shall leave you to your letter."
Turning to Sebastian he said, "I'm going back upstairs."
"Very good," the demon replied. "I shall take some air outside."
Inclining his head to Miss Davenport, Sebastian spun on his heel and exited the asylum.
William took this opportunity to take his leave as well. He retreated upstairs where he squirreled himself away in his quarters, book in hand. It had been decades since he had been allowed so much free time, and he didn't intend to waste it. Settling down on his bed, he crossed his ankles and pulled back the cover.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
)*(
The sun had set by the time Aria Sinclair was satisfied. After she had finished the blueprints, she had practiced her presentation. Typically, she wouldn't bother practicing for a casual research collaboration, but this was different. She needed Undertaker to be enthusiastic about her idea; she needed him to love it. Nothing short of excited admiration would get him out of the asylum, so she would ensure that level of excitement by pulling every persuasive technique in the book.
The presentation would be immaculate.
Gathering her notes and straightening up her hair (appearance was important), she headed down to the laboratory: a procedure that was becoming far too commonplace for her liking. The trip down the crumbling stairs was quick and uneventful, and before she knew it she was knocking at the laboratory door. In a matter of seconds, the portal was being opened for her by a face she hadn't particularly wanted to see.
"Ah, Dr. Sinclair," Dr. Carmichael greeted, standing aside to let her in.
She entered the room silently, a strange feeling coming over her. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised to see Dr. Carmichael here. He was Undertaker's research partner, after all, and it only made sense that he was here to see what she had com up with. Still, he had gotten the impression that the two men did not exactly get along, and she knew for a fact that Carmichael was no where near fond of her. That being the case, she was less than pleased to see him. She only hoped he didn't ask any stupid questions after her presentation.
After the door had been securely shut, she turned to the rest of the room where she saw Undertaker leaning against the far wall, grinning at her.
"Hello there, dearie," he began pushing himself up to a standing position. "Are you ready to astound me with your brilliance?"
She saw him glance over her shoulder at Carmichael and was finally able to name that strange feeling that had taken hold of her the moment she had entered the room: suspicion.
"Of course," she said, trying to keep her expression clear of any misgivings. "Let's begin."
The next hour consisted of her explaining her design and answering Undertaker's many and varied questions. The man didn't disappoint when it came to eccentricity. His questions ranged from intelligent and insightful to inquiring about her favorite foods and choice of dress. With patience and occasional eye-rolls, she answered every question posed to her. Interestingly enough, Dr. Carmichael remained completely silent throughout the entire interview.
When this procedure was over, Undertaker too became silent, but his was a pondering one.
Aria waited patiently, gathering her notes and putting them back in order. She knew that the next phase of their plan counted on Undertaker's decision. Per usual, she acted entirely calm and almost bored as she awaited his response. Still, after a few minutes went by without a word, she was beginning to wonder just when that response would come.
Carmichael seemed to be thinking the same thing, as he kept glancing over at his partner anxiously. Clearly the decision was not his to make, and Undertaker wasn't going to give him a chance to sway his opinion.
Just when Aria was going to ask him what he thought, the Undertaker looked up at her.
"This could work," he said, looking entirely earnest. "This could actually solve my problem."
Before she could say she was glad he was pleased, she was wrapped in a startlingly strong bear hug that lifted her from the ground.
"This was just what I was hoping for," the Undertaker said excitedly, swaying her from side to side. Aria had no choice but to wait for his enthusiasm to abate. From the look on Carmichael's face, it seemed like he was more frightened by the mortician's outburst than she was.
Finally, the silver-haired man set her back on the ground and began shaking her hand vigorously. "I knew calling you in was the right thing to do. I knew you would help me."
Aria gave a convincing smile. "I do what I can," she said.
Undertaker smiled back, but it was more restrained. "Well, it seems as though we'll have to go get supplies."
"Marvelous," Aria exclaimed. "When do you want to head out?"
"First thing tomorrow morning," the man answered. "Don't be late."
"I would never dream of it," she returned.
"Good," he stated, walking her to the door. "Then you had better get some sleep. I don't want you passing out on me in the carriage. I've worked with corpses for a long time, but I prefer conversation when I travel."
"Funny," Aria muttered, exiting the laboratory. "I'll see you in the morning, then."
"Of course," he said, suddenly looking lost for words. Aria raised an eyebrow before he said, "Goodnight, Aria," and shut the door.
"Odd," she murmured to herself as she turned to go back upstairs. Still, the Undertaker was always odd.
Stonehart was eerily silent, but that was to be expected. It unsettled her how quickly she was becoming used to such a place as this. Thankfully, all of that was about to come to an end. Tomorrow, she and Undertaker would be waylaid on their journey to London, and then the notorious reaper would be taken into custody. After that, Dr. Carmichael would be arrested and the patients being caged and tortured would be set free and provided with the care they so desperately needed. Everything would be over tomorrow.
She kept going through these reassurances until she found herself at William and Sebastian's door. After knocking, she was shown in by Sebastian, who closed the door quietly behind her. The sight she saw was strangely normal and comforting.
A single lamp on the central table cast a warm glow throughout the room, its unsteady light making shadows dance on the walls. William was sitting on his bed, back against the headboard, utterly absorbed in a Dickens novel. Aria smiled to see that it was A Tale of Two Cities, and belatedly understood why he had chosen his pseudonym. Even Sebastian had a book laid out on his bed. This one, she noted, was also a Dickens novel. Walking toward it, he picked up the copy of Great Expectations and closed it, setting the tome on the table by the lamp.
"Mr. Spears told me of your presentation," Sebastian began, glancing at William who had also laid his book aside. "How did it go?"
"Swimmingly," Aria informed them. "We're leaving for London first thing in the morning."
"Very good," Sebastian said, looking satisfied with the news. "Then this should all end tomorrow."
"I should hope," she sighed tiredly. "I can't wait to get out of this place."
"I do believe we all share that sentiment," the demon remarked. Then, "Will you contact your coworkers, Mr. Spears?"
"Yes," William answered, swinging his legs around and off the bed. "I shall send a message directly."
The next moment, he was jotting out a brief note on a narrow length of paper. "This should reach them tonight," he stated, rolling it up.
"I see you also utilize our antiquated delivery system," Sebastian noted aloud.
"It is the fastest way," William commented.
Stepping toward the window, the reaper pulled a small whistle from his pocket and sent out a measured sequence of shrill notes. Slipping the metal instrument back in its place, he waited patiently for a response. Remarkably, one wasn't long coming. In but a few minutes, a gray pigeon had perched on the window sill, its head jerking about quickly as it viewed its surroundings. William picked the creature up and attached the note to one of its legs. Surprisingly, the animal didn't seem to mind and was content to stay still until William had finished his work. When he had, he lifted the bird out of the window and gave it a boost into the night sky. In a flutter of wings, the avian was gone, already carrying its message to reaper headquarters.
Aria was impressed by how swiftly this was done and remarked upon it.
"We have a number of trained pigeons scattered about the country," William explained. "It helps when we need to contact headquarters immediately. The creatures are taught to answer to a sequence of calls at a specific frequency. It's quite effective."
"Fascinating," Aria murmured. She couldn't help but notice how the reaper seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her. Curious. What was wrong with him?
"An intriguing system," Sebastian input. "Let's hope our feathered friend does not go astray. We shall need all the help we can get."
"Indeed," William agreed, moving to sit on his bed once more.
Aria smiled. "I see you are both fond of Dickens."
"Actually," Sebastian corrected, "Mr. Spears has an affinity for that particular author. He was kind enough to lend me one of his own books to pass the time."
The doctor was surprised to hear this. "I'm proud the two of you are sharing," she stated.
William frowned. "I simply wanted to make sure he did not go wandering about on his own. Besides, even a demon can benefit from the works of Dickens."
"Truly, our bespectacled friend has a charitable spirit, wanting to enlighten the demonic masses," Sebastian mocked, picking up his borrowed tome. "Maybe after all of these centuries my soul will be saved after all."
"Your sarcasm is in poor taste," William sneered, reaching for his own book. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected a being such as yourself to recognize talent when he read it."
Sebastian smirked and turned to Aria. "Have you ever read Dickens, my dear?"
"I am acquainted with a few of his works," the doctor responded.
"And your synopsis?" the demon pressed.
"I enjoyed them. His cynicism resonates with me."
She saw William smile out of the corner of her eye, but he said nothing.
"Well, I suppose with your recommendation, I shall have to press on," Sebastian relented, flipping the book open and turning back to the page where he had left off. Then, sitting down on his bed, he asked, "Would you like a book, dear? Perhaps Mr. Spears has another one tucked away somewhere."
Aria shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm planning on going back down to the basement. There are some locked rooms down there and I want to inspect them before we head out tomorrow. I simply hope Undertaker isn't still down there in an hour or two. Reapers do sleep, don't they?"
She had seen her sister sleep at times that dated after her transformation, but she didn't know if it was a necessary function.
"Yes, reapers require sleep," William confirmed. "For all that the Undertaker is eccentric, he must rest sometime."
"Good," Aria said, turning toward the door and twisting the knob. "I'll leave you gentlemen to your reading, then. I shall see you tomorrow."
"Yes," Sebastian returned. "Goodnight, Doctor."
"Goodnight," she replied, leaving them.
From there she made her way to her room where she waited some time before grabbing her lock-picking tools and heading back down to the basement, praying all the while that she would not run into Undertaker. Thankfully, she was in luck, for when she got down there, Undertaker was no where to be seen, and Carmichael had also flown the coop.
The basement was dark and ominous, as it typically was, and the torches on the wall that remained lit provided shifting, unreliable illumination. No light could be seen spilling from under the laboratory door, and all around was completely silent.
Not daring to speak lest she be caught, Aria examined the locked doors on her left. It was already late, and she had to be up early tomorrow, meaning that she didn't have all night to inspect every room. This being the case, she was going to have to pick which rooms to investigate with care. Looking at the ground, the doctor attempted to see which door was opened most often. The first three doors showed no signs of such use. The fourth door, however, was of more interest. She could make out faint scratches and wood shavings in an arc where the door would swing open, clearly showing that this room was used with some frequency. Also, the lock seemed less rusted than the others, also pointing to the fact that the door was regularly opened. Deciding that this would be the best place to start her investigation, Aria knelt down and began her ministrations on the lock.
It wasn't as complex as the one on the padlocked door from the night before, but it was of sufficient quality to take her some little time in opening. Eventually, though, it gave in under her skill and the bolt drew back. Rising, Aria pulled open the heavy wooden door, pausing occasionally when the ancient thing groaned on its hinges. When it was opened enough to allow her to slip inside, she entered the darkened room, lighting the lantern she had brought with her. And a good thing she did bring one too.
This room, unlike Undertaker's laboratory, did not have electricity wired throughout, and seemed to rely on the same torches that were posted at intervals on the walls in the hallway. Dust and dirt had gathered in significant quantities on the floor, coming up in clouds as she made her way further inside. More than once, she had to hold back a sneeze that threatened to shatter the stillness. This lack of cleanliness did help in some respect, however. For on the ground, imprinted firmly in the grim, were footprints, and they were recent. Some old ones could be seen alongside them, a thin layer of dust beginning to cover them once more. All of these footprints, old and new, seemed to be headed toward the same place. Making sure to keep her own footprints inside the latest ones on the floor, she followed them into the blackness of the room.
Her trip wasn't long, but it took her some time as she took care not to leave her own footprints in the dust. Eventually, the tracks led to their destination, and Aria was a tad shocked by what she discovered.
Six coffins were leaning up against the back wall, all in a perfect row. Aria noticed that the head coffin was a good deal larger than the five that followed it, meaning that it was made for someone with a more imposing stature. Indeed, the first coffin was undoubtedly made for a man. The other five she couldn't be quite sure about. Perhaps they were built for women, perhaps adolescent men, there really was no use in speculating.
Stepping closer, Aria leaned toward the first coffin and knocked on the lid. Her knock was dull and short, meaning that the coffin was most definitely not empty. She did this procedure with the five others and found that all of them had someone inside.
How bizarre, Aria thought. Undertaker didn't have need for coffins here at Stonehart. The bodies he received were promptly experimented on and strung up on the walls of his laboratory. There would be no final rest for his lab rats, only eternal neglect and damnation. Why, then, did he have six occupied coffins resting in another room? Most probably, she hypothesized, these bodies are special. They were put in these coffins as a distinction from the others, and were likely more important. She couldn't for the life of her understand why.
At first she supposed that these bodies were his most successful experiments, but that didn't sound quite convincing. If he already had greatly successful experiments, he wouldn't have asked for her assistance. Perhaps, then, the bodies weren't important because of Undertaker, but due to their own merit. That was interesting. In that case, these bodies could be notable individuals who deserved special care. Still, for these bodies to be here, then that meant that they had something to do with Undertaker's research. Indeed, she had no doubt that the mortician planned to operate on them, if he hadn't already. Then what on earth was going on?
Suddenly, a thought struck her. A very unpleasant one. Perhaps, her mind rushed on, these were notable figures of society that he planned to resurrect for someone. A chill suddenly came over her as she reflected on the implications of this possibility. Undertaker could be hiring out his services, if only to obtain more bodies to experiment on.
A sense of dread overtook her, and she wanted nothing more than to look inside those coffins and see if she could identify the bodies by sight. Sadly, doing so would leave obvious traces of breaking and entering, and she didn't have the luxury of getting caught. To be sure, if Undertaker found out about her actions, that trust would be shattered instantly and there would probably be no way of catching him again.
Bottling up her frustration, she backtracked out of the room and shut the door, locking it securely. She had time to investigate a couple other rooms before she needed to get to bed. Determined to make the most out of the time she had left, she inspected the other doors and went about her work. Unfortunately, there was nothing else of note in any of the other rooms, making continued searching a fruitless endeavor. Feeling a sense of exhaustion come over her, she decided it was time to get on to bed. She didn't want to be tired in the morning when she required all her wits about her.
)*(
"What are you two giggling about?" Ronald asked, not liking being out of the loop. "When you two laugh to yourselves it puts me on edge."
Lynn shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing I can do about that, Ronald. Sounds like a classic case of paranoia."
This instigated another bout of conspiratorial snickering that the blonde did not appreciate.
Rolling his eyes, Ronald sat down at the circular booth with the couple. Lynn and Grell were both dressed to the nines, as they were wont to be when they went out together. The crimson haired grim reaper was sipping on bubbling red wine, while his partner in crime was treating herself to the white variety.
"What brings the two of you out here?" Ronald asked, taking a swig of his beer. "I thought you weren't particularly fond of bars."
"We're not, as a rule," Grell remarked, flipping his lustrous hair off of his shoulder and setting down his glass. "But we're here on business, so it can't be helped."
"Business?" Ronald sounded unconvinced. "I don't see anything businesslike about what you're doing."
Grell shook his head, as though dismayed by Ronald's inadequate assessment of the situation. "Lynn and I were just scoping out our work."
"Scoping out your work?" the blonde repeated, still not following.
Grell sighed. "Really, Ronald! Are you always so daft? Our work, of course!" Here he pointed to a couple sitting at a two person table across the room from them.
Ronald followed Grell's pointing finger until his eyes landed on said couple. "Is that Cynthia and Clarence?" he asked dumbly, realization dawning on him. "Wait, did the two of you set them up?"
"We knew you'd get there one day," Lynn teased, lips curling up in a pleased smile. "Grell and I thought the two of them would be perfect together, and simply had to see for ourselves how their date went."
Ronald took another gulp of his beer, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve. Grell wrinkled his nose in disgust, but didn't say anything.
"So the two of you are stalking them." It was a statement, not a question, and Grell got irritated.
"We are not stalking them, imbecile," he shot back vehemently. "We are merely observing to see if we are good matchmakers. This was a practice run, and if we aren't absolutely perfect, then we need to know and fix our methods before we tackle our biggest challenge."
Ronald raised his eyebrows. "This is starting to sound a little serious," he commented, setting his beer down. "In any case, they look like they're having a good time, so your methods must be sound enough."
The couple looked pleased by this praise, and clinked their wine glasses together in a toast to their success.
Just before Ronald could ask what the biggest challenge was, someone plopped down on the booth beside him. The blonde looked over casually to see that Eric had joined them, glass of rum in hand.
"I'd bet anything that the three of you are up to no good," the newcomer said, swirling his drink in his glass before taking another swallow.
Ronald put up a hand in his defense. "It's not me, I swear. These two are the ones you have to look out for; I'm just an innocent bystander."
Eric snorted. "While I don't doubt their duplicity, I have never come across a situation where you were just an innocent bystander, Ron."
"That hurts, Eric, it really does," Ronald whined, leaning forward to prop his elbow on the table. "This time, however, you've got me wrong. They're sitting here watching Cynthia and Clarence chat it up because they're the ones that got them together. I just saw them and thought I'd join their party."
Eric looked across the room and spied the couple in question before turning back to Ronald. "Wouldn't that make you a stalker as well?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Nah," the blond replied, batting the inquiry away. "If I'm a stalker, then so are you, and you would never admit to that."
"I suppose you have a point there," Eric conceded taking another swig of rum and reveling in the burn as it slid down his throat. "Ah," he sighed, satisfied. "Nothing like a good drink after a long day of work."
"You got that right," Ronald agreed, smiling.
"Glad the two of you could join us," Lynn commented. "If Alan were here, our regular party would be complete."
Eric nodded. "Yeah, but the poor kid had to help somebody with their paperwork. Ever since Spears has been gone, he's had to help fix everybody's mistakes. Kid's going to work himself to death."
"Alan is a sweetheart," Grell input, "but he should take a break every once in a while. Nobody can out work William."
"Amen to that," Eric responded, leaning back against the cushion of the booth. "I told Al we'd be here, so hopefully he'll show up when he's done."
"I'm sure he'll drop in," Lynn assured him. "It's been a while since we've all gone out together."
Ronald nodded. "We need to do something as a group sometime instead of just running into each other at the bar closest to dispatch."
"Yeah, I'll contact you the next time I get a day off," Eric said sarcastically.
Ronald frowned. "Spoil sport."
Just then, the bell over the pub door tinkled and Alan stepped into the establishment. Eric caught his attention and waved him over, leaning forward as the young man slid into the booth beside Grell.
"My, don't you look bloody serious," Eric commented, flagging down a waiter and ordering a gin and tonic for the man.
Alan thanked him, but still didn't look particularly happy.
"Something the matter?" Eric inquired, furrowing in brows.
Alan took out a slip of paper. "I just received this from dispatch," he explained, handing it across the table to Eric. "It's from Mr. Spears. Evidently, we're needed at Stonehart at first light tomorrow. Dr. Sinclair has convinced the Undertaker to take a trip to London with her, and we are to ambush him on the way."
Lynn suddenly looked nervous. "But couldn't Aria get caught in the crossfire? This doesn't sound safe."
"That's what I thought," Alan stated, taking his gin and tonic from the waiter. "Apparently the Phantomhive butler is there as well, and has promised to ensure her safety."
Lynn grimaced. "Damn demon. What is he doing there?"
"Investigating, I presume," Alan shrugged, sipping his beverage. "Either way, we're to cooperate with him tomorrow."
Grell was beaming. "I do so adore any chance to see Bassy!" he exclaimed, couple stalking suddenly forgotten.
Lynn rolled her eyes, causing Grell to smile and sling an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, dear. I am utterly devoted to you. Still, I can appreciate a fine specimen when I see one."
"As you say," Lynn stated. "I guess we'll both be looking."
They both broke out into laughter over their shared perversity.
"Cretins," Eric mumbled under his breath, not looking forward to having to work alongside a demon. He had never actually met Sebastian Michaelis, but according to Ronald (whose testimony be trusted to be less biased than Grell's), the man was a looker and could kick ass with the best of them. Perhaps having him on their side this time would be a good thing.
Alan looked exhausted, and sat in silence as he nursed his drink.
Ronald was too busy poking fun at Lynn and Grell to give a mind to anything else, and for his part, Eric was content to keep his thoughts to himself. Best not to spoil a decent night with talk of demons and crazed morticians.
And Chapter 13.