Side Effects

[Sitruuna]

It's... Something I wrote while I was visiting R.L, something she kind of reguested. Have I mentioned that R.L is a nice and inpiring person and a very good artist, but does not have scanner..? ._. I love her art!

*cough* Back to the business... Anyways, it's kind of Kuroshitsuji fan fiction since I still think he's far too OOC (mainly the reason why I never write fan fcition... "But it's so out of character, what am I going to do, aarrgghh!!!"), though when I think about how he's in the end of chapter 59 then... Maybe he's not that out of character in the end... Anyways, I should warn you about my general laziness and the fact that there might be misspellings, grammar mistakes, strange words at strange places and so forth. There's also a random original female character who does not get physically involved with out lovely man.

I read it through once or twice but then I got bored so now I don't know if there's still something I missed...

I'm kind of writing a second chapter, but I won't promise anything about posting it!

Oh right... The name has a purpose and reason and it's to do with something I might write... It's about how we got into the situation where we begin this little piece of fiction!

Info, because while I'm reading here, this is what I miss: a good, clear info section where you can see all kinds of important things...

Tittle: Side Effects

Author: Sitruuna (omg, that me, lol)

Fandom: Kuroshitsuji

Character(s): the Undertaker and a OFC

Pairing: None

Genre: Why do I even add this one since I don't really know and this kind of info senction isn't requiered here... General, maybe... Someone could count it as h/c. "Cold fic".

Summary: A young woman who has just moved to London comes to the Undertaker's for some personal business, but finds the man in not all too good condition... (bad summary... )

---

He placed the thermometer on the table and rubbed his face with his hands. Not funny. Not funny at all. His head felt heavy, his mind was fussy, he was congested and from time to time his nose was taken over by a highly irritating tickle. The shivers that ran through his body were violent and the old thermometer was trying to tell him he was running a fever. It was starting to seem that the bed in one of the small rooms in back of his office was going to get better used than it had ever been before – he certainly would enjoy a little nap in it, if he allowed that much for himself. And why not? This feeling, this situation… They weren’t funny.

He stood up having to take a step back in order to not fall back to the chair. He grabbed the table for support until the room stopped spinning and he felt steady enough to walk to the rear of the apartment. Stumbling on a couple of coffins on his way, he walked to the door that led to the living quarters of his little, shaggy workplace. Down the corridor, first and only door on the left, there was his destination: a tiny room with a small, dusty bed and a bookshelf. When he got there he collapsed on the bed, curling up trying to tame the still present shivering. Very unlike him, as was the sneeze that soon broke out of him.

A young woman stood in the chilly streets of London’s early night. She knew it was too late for visiting shops or taking care of other business but she couldn’t have made it any earlier. Besides, the place where she was headed seemed to be open still at this hour, taking customers in. At least it didn’t have a “closed” sing hanging at the door and there was light coming out of the windows. Only thing that made her hesitate was the way the shop, or whatever she should call it (a office, perhaps?) looked – in her opinion it was scary, made to turn possible customers away. The mere look of the place was making her feel cold inside.

Never mind the looks, she thought. This was something that had to be taken care of and she couldn’t just leave it because she was afraid. And so she opened the door to the candlelit room. She stepped inside and closed the door, looking around. No one. The room was empty of people but there was definitely someone inside the apartment judging by the lit candles and the quiet sound that came from somewhere further in the apartment as she got in, a sound that she thought might have been a sneeze.

She crossed the room to the table, keeping her eyes on the various bottles and coffins that filled the room. On the table there was not so many curious things, mostly boring objects such as papers and a pen and a bottle of ink, and more of those creepy bottles and flasks. She picked some of them up taking a look at the possible contents. Behind one of these bottles she found a slightly more interesting object – a little thermometer, one used on humans. She picked that up as well and looked at the quicksilver inside it. The top was at 38 degrees. It might have been higher earlier, seeing it had probably been lying there for a short while.

She heard another sneeze coming from behind a small, wooden door. She stared at the door, wondering whether or not she should enter through it. At this point she was almost past being scared as curiosity had conquered all the room the fear had had, and so she walked to the door, opening it slowly. She looked at the dark corridor seeing no one so she ventured forth. She stopped in about middle of it to listen. And sure enough she could hear someone behind the door on the left side. She walked to it and stopped again to listen. It was quiet inside aside from the soft sounds of someone breathing and trying to clear their nose without actually blowing it. It seemed as if the person working here wasn’t feeling his best. She stood in front of the door for a while, hesitating. She wanted to go in but didn’t know if she should. Maybe the person in the other side of the door wanted to be left alone, maybe she never should have got this far in the apartment. She didn’t know this other person at all.

In the end she raised her hand and knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for an answer before opening it. The room wasn’t big and there were not all that many pieces of furniture there. On the shaggy bed there was a man, though. A tall man, shivering, teeth chattering slightly. She looked around to discover a blanket thrown to the floor near the bed. As she picked it up she wondered why the man hadn’t taken it himself but had instead decided to endure the shivering. She tossed the blanket on the man and watched the shivers slowly die.

She couldn’t hide her surprise and the hint of fear when the man turned just enough to look at her (though the hair was practically covering his eyes, so she couldn’t know if he even saw her from behind his thick fringe or if he was looking at her direction). His lips were parted and his nose and cheeks had a clear reddish shade.

“S-sorry, mister undertaker… I came here on business but got kind of carried away by curiosity…” she mumbled, looking slightly embarrassed. Why had she entered the shady corridor and why had she enter this damn room? The man stayed silent, which didn’t help her feel any better about the situation. “Well… I should probably leave you to rest. I don’t wish to disturb you at this kind of moment”, she eyed the man as she said this, hesitant to actually leave. He was a curious looking man indeed and she could have stayed there exploring the little details of his looks. But she really should go and stop disturbing the life of a man she didn’t even know. These kinds of actions were highly out of question and she didn’t wish to be seen as a woman with no manners. And so she slowly backed away from the man under the blanket, sucking in all she could of the man’s looks.

She was right in front of the door when a thought crossed her mind and she stopped. “Maybe I could make you some tea, if you’d want? Assuming you have some tea here and… And I’m probably going out of my way proposing something like this…” she could feel the blush raise on her cheeks but this time, unlike so many other times during her life, she kept her head up and eyes on the man, waiting for an answer. Again the man stayed silent. She was thinking that she should just leave and had already taken one more step towards the door, so that now she was back against it, when the man finally spoke. He had a curious way of speaking, though his voice was somewhat weakened by the fever and congestion as he spoke his five words: “Second door on the right”.

The young woman smiled. She hadn’t offended the man too badly by entering his private property if he thought this was a good idea. She nodded and exited the room, entering the one he had told her to go. This new room had more furniture but everything was in the same dark fashion that seemed to suit the man. Of course none of the things she had seen here were fashionable, but she couldn’t imagine the furniture of a modern, stylish house decorating this man’s property. No, he wasn’t a man of that day by his looks.

As she took in the room she noticed a pot used to heat the water waiting there for her and quite near it on a side table a ceramic tea pot. She looked in the shelves and found some tea as well, not the best there could have been, but good enough to be used.

She heated the ceramic pot and boiled the water, brewed the tea, all the while thinking about the man and this evening. It was strange that the man hadn’t been angry with her, but then again he probably wasn’t feeling the best. Fever and sickness could make people nicer and more tolerant, maybe too tired to really care.

It took more time to find a mug for drinking the tea than it had taken to find the other things. When she found one she placed that and the ceramic pot on the small side table where the pot had been (she didn’t recall seeing a table in the other room) and lifted it to carry the things back to the bedroom, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid. Getting through the first door gave her most trouble as it opened into the room. In the end she had to put down the small table and open the door, holding it open with her body until she and the table were safely past it in the corridor. The second one wasn’t so hard – she could get through it by pushing it.

The man had sat up and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and seemed to be waiting for her return. She placed the table in front of the man, pouring some tea in the mug. She watched a long-fingered hand extend from under the blankets, marked the black, long nails. This was indeed an interesting man. An interesting man who now sat there, holding the cup close to his face, breathing in the steam and the smell of the tea. Maybe it was the steam, maybe it was the new found upright positions, but in either case the man was starting to sniffle and his nostrils were quivering. A few moments later he gave in the tickle, releasing a couple of rather high-pitched yet wet sounding sneezes, while still holding the mug and managing not to spill any of the brown liquid.

At some point the woman realized she had just been standing there and staring, not very nice of her and definitely not too polite. So she tore her eyes off him, blushing again slightly. She wasn’t sure what she should think about the man. He seemed to be in human misery but to her he didn’t seem that human, somehow. Maybe he was, in the end, a regural man, but she couldn’t be sure.

The sound of the man’s congested sniffles brought her back from her thoughts to the here and now. Didn’t he have a handkerchief or did he had some other reason to not use one? She pulled her own out of a hidden pocket in the pleats of her dress, holding it out to the man. He looked at it, uncertain, but took it anyways, dabbing his nose with it and leaving it at that. He sipped the tea, still sniffling like before.

“I… would advise on blowing your nose, mister undertaker”, she said slightly embarrassed. The man looked at her and brought the handkerchief back up to his face, giving his nose a soft blow. Or rather a blow that was meant to be soft but due to the congestion the sound was thick and gurgling and he had to put more power behind it. Oh, how interesting humanity could sometimes be…

“I better go and leave you to rest. Though, if I may say so, this doesn’t look like the best place for nursing such sickness”, this time she couldn’t make herself stay there and face the man. In her opinion she had acted rashly and she would have preferred to just disappear from this earth if that would have been possible. As it was not, she simply tried to get away from the only person who knew about her rude actions.

---

Wuut? I wrote something this long..? xD

Edited August 14, 2011 by Sitruuna

[obsessed]

Oh, your writing style is intriguing!

[Ciuty80]

ahh i like that!! Please more...soon?!!

[Akahana]

UNDERTAKER IS SEXY!!! But, if it isn't too much trouble, could you spell out the sneezes if you post the next part? That would be awesome. Nice story!

[Sitruuna]

Thnaks for comments, Ciuty80, Akahana (and obsessed as well : P). I'm working on the second part though it might take a while (a looonng while) because of general laziness and something strange called "school" (this year I'm trying..!) but but but... I try to work fast... xD And I have R.L here for the night so who knows... LoL.

I don't generally spell the sneezes as I hate sneeze spellings my self... But if you like this fic and want the spelling... Lets see about that. Though R.L here *points to the person next to her* has drawn the most amazing pictures of our Undertaker *drools*... Really, what a shame she 1) doesn't have a scanner 2)... I don't know would she post them (or at least the sneeze one) anyways... xD She says she wouldn't (because she wouldn't dare to post them or something, I don't know)... Off-topic? Where? *goes and tries to find that*

Edited August 16, 2011 by Sitruuna

[Ciuty80]

I don't generally spell the sneezes as I hate sneeze spellings my self... But if you like this fic and want the spelling... Lets see about that.

i LOVE spelled sneezes!!!

and i would LOVE to see your spelling

pretty please?????

Though R.L here *points to the person next to her* has drawn the most amazing pictures of our Undertaker *drools*... Really, what a shame she 1) doesn't have a scanner 2)... I don't know would she post them (or at least the sneeze one) anyways... xD She says she wouldn't (because she wouldn't dare to post them or something, I don't know)... Off-topic? Where? *goes and tries to find that*

awww that´s a waste of talent i think!

i think everyone would LOVE to see "the most amazing pictures of our Undertaker"!!!

hope you can change her mind

[Sitruuna]

So... Writing more is taking such a long time that I thought I should post this little thing as well... It's a drabble based on a little conversation between R.L and I.

Conversation went about like this:

R.L: Have you thought about the "why"?

Me: Well, it is, obviously, caused by that but if you mean what's the reason for that... I haven't really though about it...

R.L: Too much working in London's night?

So... BLAME HER FOR THIS THING! *creepy laugh* ...And sorry, no sneezing... I was going to edit it so that it would have some, but then I found out I'm too lazy to even read this through anymore... *hits her head in the wall* Well, anyways...

He had been digging the last one of the new graves when he had first noticed something was odd. He had been especially busy for the past few days, having to work late in the night and get back up early in the morning. He was a bit of a night owl, but even he needed some sleep. And so he hadn't cared for the tired feeling of his body, though he was rather grateful that it seemed as if he wasn't going to be as busy in the following days. But when the night air of London had started to feel colder and colder, chilling the very marrow of his bones, making him shiver, he had stopped his work to think. He wasn't exactly familiar with the way he was feeling, and it wasn't just about the illusion of freezing, but the distant soreness of his muscles and the dryness of his throat as well.

Out of curiosity he had brought his hand to feel his forehead, a very human gesture if I may say, and the damp warmness of the skin had actually taken him, by surprise. He had quickly glanced around the graveyard (though who would be there at that time), and wiped his forehead with his sleeve, smoothing his fringe back in order afterwards.

He chuckled. Such a human feeling... Most likely a very human appearance as well.

Edited August 25, 2011 by Sitruuna

[ichixshiro14]

Love!

[R.L]

*herps the derp* Omfg heehee it's hereee~~~~ *loves to death* <3

And yeah, I'm not posting "art" of anything B| Becuz I suck. OH WELL.

*scrolls back up and starts drooling all over the place* Hurr~

[Sitruuna]

HA! I bet you thought I wouldn't continue this... Hahahaha... You were wrong! ...I'm just lazy and slow. > : D

Anyways, thank you for the comments and R.L, please don't drool on my key board (if you are still using it) and try to see this as (a part of) your birthday present. I hurried with it just to get it finished by this day!

I seriously would like to complain about the quality, but I won't because I know that no one likes to read that... xD (Just be warned, the first 1199 words are complite crap, you can skip that part if it botheres you and I asure it gets better after that..! Oh, I also skipped some time at a couple of points... Once because I simply can't write those two other men, or at least I worry too much about making them OOC, but they had to be there because I have a clear idea of how this goes in my mind!)

He opened his eyes to a blurry world. At first he simply stared at whatever was in front of him, the ceiling or a wall, perhaps, he wasn’t exactly sure of his own position. At some point it came to his mind that he could blink his eyes and that it might just help the situation. After a ridiculous lot of blinking his vision got sharp again (well… as sharp as it was ever going to be) and he could see the wall next to him staring back at him with evil eyes. After that it took him some time to catch up with the situation. His hair wasn’t in normal way covering his eyes but instead it had been tossed messily everywhere. His eyes felt tired even though for once he had actually slept for the whole night and even a bit more. He felt warm and his head was heavy, but most importantly, he had his lips parted and he was breathing through his mouth. His mouth and throat felt dry so he swallowed, immediately realizing how congested he was. Strange and very unlike him, this whole situation.

He smoothed his fringe back to its place and stood up feeling slightly dizzy. He sniffled as the new position made the congestion shift giving a little more room for breathing. His eyes met the small table with his tea pot and a mug and he examined the vague memories of last night. He could remember the evening, the night, but there was fog making the images dimmer, less accurate. For one he couldn’t remember how the woman had looked or if she’d mentioned why she had come to see him. It was only now that he realized how out of it he had been.

And he had probably slept past the time he should have been at his desk in the main room! He tossed the blanket away (lovely, warm blanket…) and turned so that he was now sitting on the edge of his bed. He took his hat from the floor, the only piece of his everyday clothing that he wasn’t wearing at the moment as it had fallen on the floor at some point, and put it on its place on top of his head. He sat there for some time, not quite sure if his head was clear enough or if he was just going to collapse back on the bed. In the end the answer didn’t matter, he would find out when he stood up. And so he got up, not falling backwards, only swaying steadily. Good enough, he thought.

Walking the whole way to his work place was a slightly different matter. Walking straight worked for most of the time, but whenever he happened to think about turning to some direction, his legs carried him that way without a direct, conscious order from him. And he couldn’t will them to turn back to the correct direction as easily. It took a couple of seconds for the orders to get from his brains to his legs and for the legs to start making them true. So he almost walked into the wall, stumbled on the coffins he had stumbled on the night before, before reaching the safety of the chair at his table. In the end he was pretty positive that this was due to sleeping and still not being fully awake, rather than the possible fever. He wasn’t even sure how high his body temperature was. He should probably check it, but he didn’t know where he had left the old thermometer he had dug up from somewhere the other night. It took far too long for him to realize it was right next to him, on the table beside the bottles.

He was still looking at the thermometer, this time it was in his hand, though, and it was telling him strange numbers (37,9 degrees, what was that supposed to mean?) when the front door opened and closed, letting two people in. He let the thermometer drop as he looked up at the familiar figures that crossed the room to stand about two meters from him and the table. He could feel his face turning into a grin as he saw who the people were.

“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it, milord?” even if after the first two words he made an effort to sound his usual self, trying to hide the congested sound and feverish weakness, he couldn’t do anything for his voice. Uncomfortable as it might be, he didn’t let it bother him too much. He snickered as he looked at the young boy and his butler stand there, both eyeing him with suspicion.

“What brings you hear, milord? I still have the coffin waiting for you, if you would like to try it…” his usual grin seemed to be lacking a little something, maybe because he had just a while ago still been in bed and sound asleep, the fact that he had been awake for at least 20 minutes just made the explanation seem a bit vague. But as his head still felt heavy the way it had felt when he first opened his eyes that morning – like he was still tired despite the sleep he had got – and his eyes weren’t any better, the short while of being awake seemed like something to consider.

“We are looking for someone”, the young earl said.

“Looking for someone? A man or a woman? Dead or alive? Might this someone be, by any chance, one of my recent customers?” he sniffed and could feel the mucus moving inside his sinuses. He had to sniff again, though it was more like a sniffle and caused a tickle to set foot in his nose.

“As far as we know she is alive. But she usually brings death to where she goes so we were requested to capture her before she can cause too much damage in London”, the young earl didn’t seem too pleased that his butler had chosen to do the talking but didn’t say a word about it. “She kills her pray in a rather unique way. I got to see some of the bodies she has left behind but I couldn’t see a clear trademark. There simply was something odd about all of them.”

He didn’t know about the woman, he didn’t know about any suspicious dead bodies. But that didn’t really matter.

“I believe the ear has not forgotten the prize of my information”, he chuckled ending up doubled over his table in a coughing fit.

The young earl had his usual displeased face on again when he finally caught his breath. Or was the expression they portrayed something else? Unease? Irritation? Whatever it was, it suited the boy in some odd way. Maybe it was the current state of his body, but something in that look made him feel the laughter burning his throat again. “Burning” was the part he didn’t enjoy. Though the burning , that had been there the day before, sensation wasn’t present, the cough was there. He didn’t really have any interest in falling into another fit of that rather deep coughing.

After the earl left he had started to work on a couple of new customers, but, truth to be told, it wasn’t as easy and enjoyable as usually. He had to concentrate on sniffling and trying to make his head feel less heavy, not to mention the fuzzy, dizzy feeling that was still haunting him. All that was certainly eating the joy.

These new customers had died of the loss of blood. They had great wounds but maybe at a state more alert he would have realized faster that those wounds might have been there just for disguise – the bodies happened to also had neat puncture marks. Usually the process of understanding that there might be something more to these new customers than the most obvious wouldn’t have required finishing working on the bodies, getting back to sit on his chair, dozing off a couple of times and almost falling off the chair. The thought had pulled him away from the half-asleep state and he had got up, wandered towards his clients’ resting place (having to take a few side steps to the left, a couple to the right to keep his balance). And indeed the bodies were practically screaming to him that they hadn’t died to the remarkably large wounds. Though the way they looked might even have fooled someone, so well the set up was done.

This time she hadn’t hesitated at the door but instead had got straight in. She couldn’t see him in the room but, just like the night before, she could hear him. Following quiet sound was something she was relatively good at, and finding her way to the room where the man was wasn’t all that hard. But enduring the room itself was.

She had never really liked being around the bodies of dead. They didn’t disgust her, they didn’t exactly send shiver down her spine either. She simply felt really uncomfortable around them, as if they knew her life from the first breath she had once taken to the last and even further. She felt their dead eyes on her, judging her, blaming her… She simply couldn’t stand it, but still… Somehow death suited those men and women whose bodies she had seen.

And somehow the sniffling man before her eyes fit the scenery of dead bodies well. She couldn’t find the reason for it; maybe it just was the charm of some people. But at this moment the man seemed more like he would fit well between a comfortable cushion and a warm blanket. She was looking at him from behind, having at least one and a half meters of distance between them, but still she could hear he was breathing mostly through his mouth, and smell the fevered sweat and general sickness on him.

She watched his shoulders slowly move up as he took a deep breath, his hands move up to his face and immediately afterwards his head move slightly forwards. He bent in the waist and his shoulders moved even higher up as he sneezed. A soft “hh-itchew!” that sounded a bit… Tired? Bored probably isn’t the best of words for describing a sneeze, but it definitely was the best she could think of.

Like the night before she dug a clean handkerchief from within her dress, closing the distance between them and giving the smooth piece of clothe to the increasingly congested and sniffling man.

“You never carry one on your own? Makes one wonder if you even own a handkerchief”, she looked at the man’s face.

He had probably noticed her when she had come as he didn’t jump or look the least bit surprised at her sudden approach. Then again, she couldn’t see his eyes from behind the thick curtain of hair that served as a fringe covering his eyes and barely leaving most of his nose and cheeks (that both still had that feverish shade of red on them) to the public eye.

“And you seem to carry them more than would be necessary, isn’t that right, miss?” his mouth spread into a rather wide grin, exposing his white teeth. His voice revealed his unhealthy state better than any other part of him as it was obviously hoarse and the sound of congestion was evident. Yet he didn’t seem to be bothered by it and if he was, he didn’t let it show.

She took his hand and gently pressed the handkerchief in it, closing his fingers around it with her now free hand. She stared at the long, black nails and couldn’t help wondering how he could dig graves and work on bodies with them. Wouldn’t they be in the way of physical work like that?

“It won’t be of help if you just hold it in your hand, mister undertaker”, she looked at him with a serious face and all he did was chuckle (though he could just as well have coughed, judging by the sound). Eventually he blew his nose, his gestures making it seem very strange and, somehow, like something unfamiliar for him.

The man, who now stood there staring at the fine cloth, seemed very different from what he had been the other night. Now that he wasn’t distracted by the shivers of rising fever and tiredness, it seemed to her like he saw amusement about everywhere around him (though she couldn’t be sure was it the man’s general nature or some fever-induced state of being high). In her opinion he seemed more approachable and, indeed, the awkward air from the night before was gone.

“What’s your business here, miss? A dead relative needs a funeral arranged? Or did you, perhaps, come to try one of my coffins?” the words were accompanied with his wide grin and a soft laugher that seemed to put him on the edge of a coughing fit.

“Actually, I was thinking about buying a coffin. A comfortable one that has some room for the person inside to, lets say, turn around.”

It probably wasn’t what the man had expected to hear, but the surprise was evident on his face for only a second before a smile returned. He sniffled against his sleeve-covered hand (she hadn’t seen him getting rid of the handkerchief but he most definitely didn’t have it in his hand anymore) before telling her they should go to the main room where there was some of his best quality coffins, chuckling again and this time ending up coughing, grabbing the operation table for support. The fit wasn’t as long as it was chesty and congested but he was slightly out of breath when it ended. She waited there, trying to ignore the corpse right next to him, until he had caught his breath. Soon he was walking to the entrance room, swaying a little, steadying the line he walked with a couple of sidesteps here and there. He seemed a little light headed, as if he was feeling dizzy the way that made the world swim or spin in his eyes. She kind of felt sorry for the man, thinking how a human, and that’s what the man was for all she knew, could easily die for such an illness. Why was he working? Shouldn’t he be in bed, trying to get some sleep and rest? These thoughts made her laugh silently. As if her long-lost motherly nature was trying to make an entrance. Silly though, she told herself. She didn’t wish to be bothered by something like that.

“You should try this one”, the man said, lifting the lid of one coffin made of dark mahogany. From inside it was white silk and soft-looking. She sat on the edge, smoothing the dark wood and the silk with her hand before lowering herself into the coffin, lying down on the soft silk.

“This must be more comfortable than that old bed in the other room is…” she said before she had time to think. Stupid, stupid, stupid, how could she always act like this? So out of hand!

But the man didn’t seem to mind, that much she could see when she peeked from behind her hands that she had used to cover her face out of embarrassment. For some reason he was laughing again that chesty and congested laugh that still had a cough-like aspect.

“Indeed… Indeed, many of these coffins are”, his sentence was followed by a sneeze that he barely managed to catch in his overly long sleeves. For a few seconds he just stood there, face in his hands. Eventually he sneezed again, a slightly messy sounding couple of “he-kcht”s. After the sneezes he was sniffling again and evidently about to wipe his nose to his left sleeve but never got that far before she was handing him a new handkerchief. He had been right when he had said that she carried a lot of them with her, but obviously it was handy at times.

He hardly noticed the woman getting up as he was blowing his nose, but he was aware enough of her actions. When her cool hand moved to his forehead under his fringe, moving some of the hair aside so that his face could be seen almost properly, he had closed his eyes so the woman couldn’t see them. Not that it really mattered to her as getting a look at his eyes wasn’t really her goal.

“Would you happen to have a thermometer?” she asked after feeling the burning heat of his skin. He told there was one, somewhere around the table, most likely on top of it, with soft chuckles. So she walked there with fast pace, spotting the thermometer next to what looked quite a lot like a human skull. She picked it up and came back to the man, making him sit on one of the coffins (pushing a dizzy man out of balance isn’t generally all that hard).

“Oh my… If I may say, mister undertaker, you shouldn’t be working but resting!” she kept her eyes on the thermometer that she had taken back from him after what seemed like the longest time to wait. “If you waste your energy on unimportant things, such as working, you will die from this sickness! And your fever would stay lower as well.”

She pushed the thermometer right before the man’s face, so that the man had to lean backwards to read it (38,5 degrees, so it had got higher…) and push it back in the end.

“Die?” he chuckled again. Somehow it seemed as if he had decided that chuckling was better than actually laughing. Maybe if someone gave a little mental push he would break and laugh until he couldn’t breathe… “Joining my customers… Wonder how that would come to be…”

Maybe the stuffiness of his voice was bothering the man after all, because as soon as he had finished his sentence he brought the dirty handkerchief that he was holding up to his nose and blew it again. Maybe she should give the rest of her handkerchiefs to the man? As was already mentioned, she had quite a few of them with her, though she was always giving them out to anyone who seemed to need one for any reason possible. And the cloth in the man’s hand was starting to look used, a clean one would soon be needed most definitely.

“I will make you a beautiful coffin, very comfortable and just the way you like it the best…” it sounded almost like the man’s voice was trying to betray him at the highest parts (as the height of his voice altered a lot when he was speaking, getting rather high at times) and he ended up coughing again.

“Thank you”, she said bending her knees into a curtsey. “If you don’t mind me saying this, I still think you should rest for a few days, your body would be pleased at least…”

She looked around the room at the coffins lying here and there. Most of them looked comfortable enough and she could wait for her own, personal one if she could just borrow a coffin from somewhere, maybe one of those around them.

“I’ll come to give my order next week”, she said while digging the remaining two handkerchiefs from the pockets of her dress, dropping them from a distance so that they floated though the air and landed on top of the man.

“Could I possibly borrow one of these until I get my personal one?” she gestured at the fine, wooden coffins in the room, looking at the man’s face.

“My, you really like these coffins, miss, don’t you?” he snickered, rather creepy but still quiet laugher escaping him. He told her she could borrow any of the coffins, any but the one he had made for the Queen’s watch dog.

Ahh, too much repetition...

Edit.

AND I EVEN SPELT THE SNEEZES! ...LoL.

Edited December 21, 2011 by Sitruuna

[R.L]

OMG ASDF

; OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO;

GFLHSAFGKHJGFLHAFASUFHLAU I just lost my words.

And I haven't even read it yet.

XDDDDD

I'll come back here when I finish reading and fangirling

// *dies from nosebleed* x u x

Edited December 21, 2011 by R.L

[Sitruuna]

OMG ASDF

; OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO;

GFLHSAFGKHJGFLHAFASUFHLAU I just lost my words.

And I haven't even read it yet.

XDDDDD

I'll come back here when I finish reading and fangirling

// *dies from nosebleed* x u x

Well, yes... As you propably noticed I didn't add all that much after you last read the non-finished version...

[Akahana]

*flails arms spaztically* THANK YOU!!!! This is so INTERESTING and not only because I've never read an Undertaker fanfic (he sneezes so cute!!), but what is the coffin needed for? Hope you write more!!!! <33333 Love you lots!! X3

[Sitruuna]

*flails arms spaztically* THANK YOU!!!! This is so INTERESTING and not only because I've never read an Undertaker fanfic (he sneezes so cute!!), but what is the coffin needed for? Hope you write more!!!! <33333 Love you lots!! X3

*slow to respond*

I love to read your comments~ You write them so... lively. : D But the sad news is that I'm a lazy person and might not write a single word more of this. *looks away*

He sneezes cute? : D I'm glad to hear that. But yeah, the whole thing is a mess - I admit that I managed to lose the track of my own thoughts at some point since I actually wrote the second chapter for months (and not in order)... Sorry. ''' I see if I can do anyhing. xD

[Akahana]

No worries~

[Sitruuna]

No worries~

Hmm, well... This is going to haunt me anyways. xD I hate leaving stories unfinished like this, but... Hmm.

[SneezyHolmes]

Please continue? c: *puppy eyes*