The others had long gone to bed… Though Grell could still here the demon wandering the corridors. She wasn't surprised. She knew that demons didn't need sleep, unlike the grim reaper… What a bother…

She gave a huff. She didn't want to go deal with her marks tonight, she felt unwell from that poisoned tart… Damn demon. She sat up, and looked at the clock, ticking on and on in the night. In her own bedroom, she would refuse to have any sort of clock… It would just be much noise for her to get used to. It was midnight… The mark was in half an hour. She had enough time to get changed into her typical clothes. That at least could make her happy.

She brushed the dirty brown colour out of her crimson hair, taking it out of its dull ponytail. She fluffed it up, and brushed her bangs back into the shape she liked to be. She took her more subtle death scythe from her pocket. Using this one let her avoid suspicion, as long as her more precious scythe was unapproved. She shoved it deep into the pocket of her pants. They were just a dull pair of garden sheers after all… She much preferred her crimson chainsaw, but she felt somewhat glad she was able to save it for the brutal deaths that suited her.

Grell smirked to herself, but soon began to frown at the thought of William T. Spears disappointed glare… If she was caught… But Madam Red's death was no time soon… She shrugged, and climbed out the window, disappearing into the night.

oooo

She leapt up to the rooftops, the cinematic record of a poor young child hit by a horse carriage, that was just too late to return home, spewed up from the body. Grell watched with sunken eyes as the girls life rushed past her sight… Grell stomach was sinking. She hated seeing the memories of children especially how… She gripped her stomach, and looked away at the sight of the child getting struck by the horses. Especially how she earned of a child to call her own.

"Mary Blackburn, born August 12th 1878 and died on 18th of April, 1887. Died due to severe blood loss caused by the trauma of a carriage accident… Nothing of note…" She stamped the death record, and sighed, rubbing her eyes. She'd need to go to the office now… Face the people she left behind… She shook her head. She wouldn't have to be there for long.

It didn't take long for her to arrive at her true place of work, her clipboard under her shoulder. She stopped at the secretary office, noticing Ronald was still there chatting up his friend. "Hey, brat." She smirked, bumping her knuckles on the top of his hair.

"Oi, oi, Mr Sutcliff watch it!"

Her eyebrow twitched. "That's Miss Sutcliff to you, Ronald. How've you been?"

"Ah, pretty alright…" He said with a smile. "Eric's havin' another party tonight anyway, so you can guess where I'm headed tonight…"

She smiled. "Hopeless…" She muttered under her breath. "And you sweetie?"

The secretary perked her head up, and smiled. "Ah, Grell, here, I've got something for you!"

"Huh!?"

The secretary leant up, and wrapped a bright scarlet scarf, striped with small grey after long intervals, around her neck. Grell sunk into it. It was a warmth she desperately needed on this cold night. "There! I found the wool and just had to make it for you!" She grinned at her, making Grell smile wide back at her. "But other than that, I've been good as always. That makeup you've gotten me is doing wonders! Thank you!"

"Ah that's quite alright, that's what I'm here for…" She said quietly. "I'm glad you're both well… Alright, I better go hand this in and get some rest… It's been a rough night."

"Of course Grell." The secretary smiled. "Have a good night."

"Yeah, you guys too." She quickly turned her back on them. Any longer and she could accidently open up to them about the hell she's been causing them… She noticed that since she started killing for Madam Red, everyone had been staying at work for an hour longer than they used to. She stopped by her desk on the way to William T. Spears office, and quickly filled in the remaining paperwork.

She feared arriving in the office of the boy she graduated with. He was sharp… Would he notice her makeup was nowhere near as extravagant as they usually was? Or would he know she looked nauseous…? She shook her head of the thoughts. "As always, you're just too paranoid…" She told herself.

She finally stood, and pushed her way into William's office. She thumped the paper work on his desk, and she blinked at the sight of him in a scarf similar to hers. "So you fell victim to her craft as well?" He said flatly, adjusting it from around his neck, and picking up her paperwork, skimming over it.

"I wouldn't call myself a victim." She quietly replied. "It's quite beautiful. It's perfect for cold nights like this."

"I know you don't like reaping children, but, as always, we're short staffed, and with this rouge reaper going around, I can't exactly change things around just to make you feel better."

"Of course William, I understand… As much as I love the more brutal reaping, children just never sit right with me…" She said with a forced laugh. "Is it all to your liking then?"

"Yes, thank you… And Grell."

"Hmm?"

"Just be careful with this rouge going around. Who knows who else they'll target."

"Oh, of course. Thank you William. You stay safe as well…" She stretched and yawned. "Well… I'm off to bed. Goodnight William. I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Yeah."

He was enthralled in his work again already, and she sighed, stretching. All she really needed now was a nice long good night's rest.