Whole Wide World
Who: Death and Ned
What: Ned's awake! Huzzah!
Where: The Pie Hole
When: Midday
Warnings: Adorableness
[Death sits behind the counter of the Pie Hole. In the week or so that Ned had fallen asleep, Death had stepped up, playing manager instead of simply closing down. Which is what any sane person would do. Death, however, isn't sane, so she stayed open. The first two days were shaky, but she got into the groove of it. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite learned how to make pies by hand so she had to dream them up. They were good, but not at the level of deliciousness that Ned's pies were. Death had even put up a sign in warning, once Ned's pies had run out, that the ones available were dream pies and weren't as good, but simply acceptable. And that they should come back when the proprietor was awake to get really, really good pie.
Death kept herself to a strict schedule, arriving at the Pie Hole two hours before it was meant to open and wiped down all the tables and set the chairs down. And she stayed two hours after, cleaning up. Washing the dishes, the tables and counters. She quite liked it. It was lethargic, in a way. But, as busy as it kept her, she did miss Ned. A lot.
So there she sits, resting her elbows on the counter, a faraway look on her face. She hums softly, kicking her feet gently in midair. Waiting for the next customer to come in.]
What: Ned's awake! Huzzah!
Where: The Pie Hole
When: Midday
Warnings: Adorableness
[Death sits behind the counter of the Pie Hole. In the week or so that Ned had fallen asleep, Death had stepped up, playing manager instead of simply closing down. Which is what any sane person would do. Death, however, isn't sane, so she stayed open. The first two days were shaky, but she got into the groove of it. Unfortunately, she hadn't quite learned how to make pies by hand so she had to dream them up. They were good, but not at the level of deliciousness that Ned's pies were. Death had even put up a sign in warning, once Ned's pies had run out, that the ones available were dream pies and weren't as good, but simply acceptable. And that they should come back when the proprietor was awake to get really, really good pie.
Death kept herself to a strict schedule, arriving at the Pie Hole two hours before it was meant to open and wiped down all the tables and set the chairs down. And she stayed two hours after, cleaning up. Washing the dishes, the tables and counters. She quite liked it. It was lethargic, in a way. But, as busy as it kept her, she did miss Ned. A lot.
So there she sits, resting her elbows on the counter, a faraway look on her face. She hums softly, kicking her feet gently in midair. Waiting for the next customer to come in.]