Your Own Skin (Black Butler)

A Subtle Sort of Humor

William stared down at his beaker of tea with growing revulsion. It wasn’t that he thought the Legendary Reaper would purposely pour him tea in a jar that might have held bits of corpses, but he did seem mad and without his spectacles he was likely as blind as a bat. He might have compensated for his blindness just fine in battle, but William didn’t trust his judgment in the kitchen. He didn’t even pull the beaker out of a cupboard, just took it from a shelf - in the coffin showroom, no less!

“Let’s see, let’s see… spiritual exchanges. That isn’t exactly my area of expertise, you know.”

“I understand,” William put aside his beaker. “I just thought you might know someone who could help.”

The Undertaker nodded and munched idly on a stale cookie. “I work more with departed souls, not ones that are alive and kicking. It’s a difference between necromancy and possession, you see.”

He nodded, not at all understanding what he was getting at.

“Hmm, I may indeed have a contact that could help. He works for a friend of mine, but I don’t know much about him. I do hear he does interesting things with souls however. Druitt plans to resurrect the Aurora Society with him, take it in a new direction supposedly.” He gave a slow grin. “You promise not to pass judgment on anyone, I hope? These dealings are all highly illegal, both in the human world and in our own. You need assistance, but I shan’t give you any names without some reassurance that you’ll keep your personal opinions out of this.”

William gave a heavy sigh. If Grell had been sitting there instead of him, she would of course have agreed. William though was more of a stickler for the rules. The very thought that such a dangerous soul manipulator was living in his city without his knowledge put him on edge. Knowing that he would have to trust this person with his and Grell’s souls made him even more concerned.

“How do I know this person is trustworthy?”

“You don’t,” Undertaker stated simply. “But it’s the only help I can give, and I’m sure you’re eager to crawl back into your own skin. Or perhaps you want some time to think about it?”

“No,” William rubbed at his temple, no, at Grell’s temple. “I don’t have time to think about it.”

“Are you worried that Sutcliffe will object?”

“No, she would probably leap into the fray and toss caution to the wind.”

“I can at least assure you that you won’t be alone.”

William’s eyes went wide. “You’ll be… you’ll be there with me?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to deal with some soul manipulator on your own. Especially not in your current state. No offense, but I doubt Sutcliffe has trained much with your deathscythe, has she?”

“No, of course not. It’s my deathscythe.”

“Exactly.” Undertaker downed his own beaker and put it in a nearby bucket. “I’ll need to pen a letter first. It’s in poor taste to visit the Viscount without some announcement. He’s a very busy man after all.” He gave a creepy snicker and headed off to a side desk that William had assumed was just another coffin.

“The Viscount of Druitt? Do you think he’s behind this?”

“Ehhh, I doubt it. He’s an appreciator of good humor like I am, but he values life far less than I do. I could see him ignoring the warning signs in favor of good humor,” he gave a low chuckle. “There’s a part of me that envies that of him, to be honest. Sometimes I wish I didn’t care so much. It would make my work much easier.”

“To be frank, I don’t believe you,” William stated.

Undertaker stared up at him through scruffy bangs. “Eh?”

“I don’t believe you actually care, not about the humans you corrupt at any rate.”

For a moment Undertaker was silent and William wondered if he’d been too forward. Then the old reaper’s shoulders shook with laughter, “My but you do have a mouth on you, don’t you? Even after having my scythe aimed at you.” His chuckle turned into a toothy grin. “Perhaps you’ve got more humor in you than I thought. It’s a subtle sort of humor, but it is in there, isn’t it?”

William blinked. He was being mocked. “It wasn’t a joke, I truly-”

But Undertaker cut him off, “Before you go stuffing your boot in your mouth, remember that you came to me for help. I know you may not like it, being the supervisor type that you are, but I could just as easily leave you to deal with this on your own.”

“Hm.” He made a good point. William didn’t have anywhere else to go, other than that Michaelis at least, and he had no intention of stooping that low. “Fair enough. I may not approve of your methods, but I do appreciate the assistance.”

Undertaker smirked. “I dare say if you were in anyone else’s body, I would probably deny you straight out especially with your sour attitude. But your Grell is rather lovely, and I do have a hard time turning away a pretty face.”

William rolled his eyes. Good grief, did Grell have to deal with this much abuse?