The voices were only getting worse. Or that's how it seemed when Grell woke up that morning. Kurogane was already gone and so he'd taken his time brushing his hair out, waiting for his own intrepid little military lackey to come get him. That was when they started again, like whispers along the corners, voices he recognized. They said words he couldn't quite hear and it sounded like it was coming from the walls. Throwing his hairbrush down, Grell jumped onto the bed and pressed his ear to the wall, banging his fist against it. "Can you hear me?! William! What in the name of God are you doing?!"
"Burnett! Get down!"
After a brief yelling match, Grell had been pulled down from his bed and given a "talking to" about behavior and protocol and blah blah blah. The death god gave no mind to any of that until the voices faded, which they did, as they had last night. "Didn't you hear something?" he asked, ignoring his guard's exasperated eye roll. Of course not, the man said, motioning him toward the hallway. It was time to go to breakfast and he'd best behave himself since he'd been awarded a new rank today.
A new... rank?
This rank business cleared itself up when Grell was given real food rather than the pink mess for the first time since these military buffoons had come into power. What a pleasant day this was shaping up to be - insanity rewarded with a bit of cinnamon toast and syrup. With a final warning to be careful about shouting unnecessarily, Grell was let loose in the cafeteria to find his own seat. It seemed many people were already seated, some engaging in pleasant conversation while others appeared to have the pall of death upon them (if only). Still, only one person stood out to the god and he smiled, switching his tray to one hand as he sauntered over.
Harvey Dent looked like he was barely containing his rage. Maybe he was trying to hide it behind those bandages. Or maybe he was just trying to pick out someone to murder. Oh, Grell hoped for the latter! Sliding into Harvey's field of vision, Grell's smile turned less friendly. "Bad night, Harvey Dent?"
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"Burnett! Get down!"
After a brief yelling match, Grell had been pulled down from his bed and given a "talking to" about behavior and protocol and blah blah blah. The death god gave no mind to any of that until the voices faded, which they did, as they had last night. "Didn't you hear something?" he asked, ignoring his guard's exasperated eye roll. Of course not, the man said, motioning him toward the hallway. It was time to go to breakfast and he'd best behave himself since he'd been awarded a new rank today.
A new... rank?
This rank business cleared itself up when Grell was given real food rather than the pink mess for the first time since these military buffoons had come into power. What a pleasant day this was shaping up to be - insanity rewarded with a bit of cinnamon toast and syrup. With a final warning to be careful about shouting unnecessarily, Grell was let loose in the cafeteria to find his own seat. It seemed many people were already seated, some engaging in pleasant conversation while others appeared to have the pall of death upon them (if only). Still, only one person stood out to the god and he smiled, switching his tray to one hand as he sauntered over.
Harvey Dent looked like he was barely containing his rage. Maybe he was trying to hide it behind those bandages. Or maybe he was just trying to pick out someone to murder. Oh, Grell hoped for the latter! Sliding into Harvey's field of vision, Grell's smile turned less friendly. "Bad night, Harvey Dent?"