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Four
Her tiny apartment always felt like a haven. Her key twisted in the lock with ease and she swung the door open to reveal the neat kitchen and living area. It was all bleached wood flooring and walls painted a muted teal that might have looked drab if it wasn’t for Bunny’s eccentric styling. Her leather couch was peppered with cushions that depicted her favorite death metal bands, and a darker plum-colored rug created a cozy atmosphere around the decently sized flatscreen perched on the entertainment unit.
“Is this where you live?” Death asked, looking around with wonder as he bypassed the kitchen entirely.
“Yep,” Bunny said. She threw her keys into the bowl on the kitchen counter by the door, moseying in after Death. “Home sweet shoebox.”
She didn’t mean it. Truth be told, Bunny loved the fact her apartment was compact. Less space meant less cleaning, and aside from her brother coming to visit overnight here and there, it usually also meant fewer people wanting to impose on her hospitality.
Death let his pale hand trail along the back of the couch before he paused in front of a medium-sized fish tank on a stand in front of the window. A tiny hearse that was a fairly accurate representation of Morticia—Bunny’s life-sized version—lay across the bottom of the tank emitting bubbles. A large, gold-colored fish bobbed lazily amongst them before scooting down to forage amongst the natural water plants growing in the corner of her abode.
“What’s this?” He reached a hand toward the top of the tank, as though tempted to touch the tiny triangle of water exposed in the corner of the tank’s glass lid.
“That,” Bunny smirked as she made her way over to join him, “is a very hangry fish. Put your finger in that tank at your own risk.” She took a pinch of fish food from a container on the stand and sprinkled it into the hole. “Here, Ru,” she cooed gently to the fish, throwing in a reference from RuPaul's Drag Race for good measure. “Sissy those fins!”
The fish did the aquatic version of a waddle up to the surface, where she began to eagerly gobble up her breakfast. Death seemed amused by the animal’s antics and watched her with a tiny smile on his face before his eyes flicked to Bunny’s.
“What are we doing here?”
Bunny huffed a single breath of amusement. “Well, I need to sleep after working all damn night,” she pointed out. “And take a shower. Not in that order.”
Death looked pensive. “Do I sleep?”
“No,” she told him, pressing her lips together in a tight smile. Aside from the obvious fact of him not currently doing his job, Bunny was also worried about what would happen while she slept. “But you can read or watch TV.”
“Can I ‘sissy those fins’?” he asked, his face as serious as ever.
Bunny snorted in a breath of air before a laugh escaped her, almost making her choke. Hearing Death—as she had known him—making that joke was too good. “Seems like you forgot everything else but somehow picked up a sense of humor,” she teased.
“Is that a good thing?” he asked, surprised.
She shrugged sassily, her lips turned up in a mischievous smile. “Just wish I’d recorded it.”
He looked puzzled. “Why?”
“Oh,” she grinned, “when you’re back to normal, you’ll know why.”
“You think I’ll get back to normal?”
He seemed concerned, which made Bunny’s heart squeeze for him. The poor guy. She could only imagine how confused and disoriented he must be feeling. She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder—something she would have hesitated to do if he had been his normal self.
“I know it,” she promised him kindly. “We just have to wait until Roberta’s back from vacation. Then I can hit her up about what we need to do to sort this all out.”
“That’s good, then,” he said, his shoulders sagging a little with relief in a way that made Bunny feel a pang of guilt. He trusted her. Enough to feel relieved when she offered him a solution to his problem. What if she couldn’t deliver? What if Roberta didn’t know how to fix this? What if there was no way to fix it?
“What do you like to read?” he asked suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie as he nodded at the bookcase in the corner. His ability to switch conversational topics at the drop of a hat was beginning to make her tired.
While he certainly wasn’t the only person she knew who was capable of such a task (Tammy Bishop sprang to mind), she was on the long end of a ten-hour shift. Her eyelids felt like the insides had been coated with sandpaper, and that was before you took into account their botched kiss and out-of-body experimenting at the diner out of the equation.
“True crime mostly,” Bunny replied with a half-shrug. “I think there are a few romance novels slotted in there somewhere. Take your pick.”
“Thanks.” He reached for a book with a black cover. True Crime it was, then.
“You’re welcome. If you want to lie down, you can spread out on the couch. Just take your boots off first,” she warned him, with a playful arch of her brow. “It’s Scotch-guarded, but I’d prefer to keep it clean. TV remote’s on the coffee table. That and the books should keep you busy for the day.”
“What’s out here?”
He took a couple of long strides toward the French doors that led out onto the small balcony space just off the living room.
