Grell arrived at work the next day and was welcomed by commotion. The reapers in the Labyrinth were going hectic, there were even a few investigators from the Labyrinth's Division outside the Catacombs. They often helped out with investigations and finalized all the paperwork that was processed, dealt with the trials and new targets. William was the link between the Labyrinth and the Labyrinth Division, though he sometimes was called to supervise the Division as well when investigators had to head out of town. It was precisely for William why they were there. Grell had been informed he had been interrogating one of the Death Row inmates, he was quite persistent in trying to find out what happened to Alois Trancy's soul, and had been attacked by said inmate Claude Faustus. William made it out alive, fortunately, but he had killed Claude Faustus in the process. His body had been bagged and taken out to the Undertaker's, where he would be burned until he was nothing but ash and his vital bits jarred away for research.
"Willaim~!" Grell rushed to his side, he was in the infirmary, "Are you okay?"
She embraced him, "I heard what happened, are you okay? Did you contract the Thorns? How do you feel?"
She forced his mouth open to get a look down his throat, he shrugged her off as he adjusted his glasses, "I can assure you I'm fine. His blood didn't get on me, I impaled him from across the room,"
He stared her down coldly, "Where were you yesterday?"
"Oh...um..." Grell fidgeted somewhat, "I had...womanly problems..."
"Honestly," William rubbed his forehead, "Perhaps if you were here we wouldn't have this problem and we wouldn't be dealing with overtime because of this incident,"
Grell frowned, oh, why was her superior so mean when she was trying to be sweet to him? Sighing, she put on a seductive smile, "You know, William,"
She walked her index and middle finger up his arm, "You look quite vulnerable in that infirmary gown. Does it open down the back?"
Her superior made a guttural noise, of displeasure or apprehension Grell didn't know, but she enjoyed the noise nonetheless.
"You wore one not too long ago, Grell Sutcliffe," William stated, turning his heated gaze away. He kept the blush from his cheeks, but his eyes held a deeper heat that he refused to let Grell see. His cold gaze is what kept her in check.
"Ah," Grell leaned in, kissing his cheek softly (ever-so close to his lips,) "So, maybe I could give you another massage? Without any boundaries this time?"
She rubbed his chest, sneaking her hand under the fabric this time, "What do you say?"
"I say," William cleared his throat, "You're acting highly unprofessional and should be getting to work on that overtime. I'll be out of here by lunch and I expect you to be done with the paperwork you missed yesterday and then get started on what must be done today,"
Grell dead-panned at him, "So mean..."
As her superior requested she completed her over-due files and the make-up work, she really didn't want to cause a ruckus. She wanted to finish up her work and go home to her beloved husband! Ah, he had the key to her cabin, surely she'd come home to a big surprise. She was excited to see him tonight, the two had discussed having children early this morning when she woke up. Normally, Grell would've been more than excited to accept his offer when she realized that it would rouse suspicions amongst her co-workers. As eager as she was to have children she knew that if she didn't play out her new body for at least a year, she could be labeled a harlot. Childbearing laws were exceeding strict, they could force her to have an abortion if she didn't prove the child was legitimate (meaning formed in a union and a reaper.)
First, expecting mothers would have to be in a legitimate relationship, have it overseen by doctors and their superiors possibly, and tests would be taken to assure the child was healthy and a full reaper. Not only that but there were so many precautions. Seeing that reapers were the animated dead, conception could take decades. Stillbirths and miscarriages were common, and since the mother could not die in childbirth she could only live with the damage done to her womb. Very few female reapers were luck enough to even have one child after years of trying, and only a handful were particularly fruitful. Medications, vitamins, a certain diet-all of it needed and required for a healthy, shinigami baby to be born. These 'relationship' laws had been instated since demons tried to ravage the shinigami race. Prior to killing off the females they had impregnated many to spoil the species. All of them came out deformed and were killed humanely, and Grell would be no exception. She was surrounded by demons all day, there was no telling what could happen. There was no test to identify the father, only to identify the essence of the unborn reaper.
The two decided to wait at least a year before outing their relationship and attempting to conceive a child.
It was about noon when Undertaker heard a knock at his door. At first he thought it was his beloved wife when he remembered she frolicked off to work over three hours ago. Did he have a human customer? It wasn't often he got human customers. He grinned from cheek to cheek, exposing his sharp canines, he so adored working on the human corpses. Oh! They ways they could die infinite! What corpse would he be dealing with today? When he opened the door however he found two reapers, Eric, one he would see after every execution, and another who appeared to be an investigator. Behind them was a sled, a body-bag tied down to it.
"Oh?" he furrowed his brow with a smile, "What unexpected delight this is! Who was the unfortunate fellow?"
"You seem abnormally happy," Eric shook his head (getting snow out of his hair,) "Considering your work conditions,"
"Ah, only my profession can lighten up my dreary little shop," he sat down on one of the coffins. The investigator untied the body bag and set it down (with little effort) onto one of the closed coffins strewn about the mortician's shoppe, "So, who was the chap?"
"Claude Faustus," Eric told him, Undertaker's delighted expression momentarily changed to a solemn one as Eric went on, "He tried to kill William T. Spears, the Labyrinth's supervisor. William managed to kill him though, so we might as well burn his blank body while we can,"
He cracked his neck, turning to the door with the investigator, "Leave you to it, send us the death certificate within the week,"
After they left the mortician approached the body bag with a furrowed brow. He didn't want to open the specially designed bag, he felt that if he did it could be his death. The scientist in him though urged him to opened it, so he did, and was greeted by the still body of a corpse. For a moment he was relieved, then the whole world went black.