Chapter Text
"Hey, guys!" Waiter was trying very hard to act normal right now, even though she had literally just murdered a dead woman. Granted, the dead woman had totally had it coming, but she still did it. Not to mention how much of a mess her hair probably was. She also didn't remember what exactly she had told Allen, so she had already fucked up rule number one of getting away with murder: know your alibi.
"Hello. Are you feeling better?" Mariam asked, unaware of how she had totally just saved Waiter from having to fake spontaneous amnesia. She nodded and sat back down, avoiding eye contact as discreetly as possible. She didn't really feel like explaining anything, or talking to anyone. Not when she was still very aware of the blood that she hoped was concealed, because otherwise that was going to be a very awkward conversation.
"We're going to take a break now." Elluka announced, before storming off into a room that had very much not been there previously. She was definitely missing some context for that, but it was fine. Waiter could always just rob Gammon at gunpoint. For information of course, and no, she did not steal his wallet that one time to buy brioche. Arte was just hallucinating that day.
Her parents were halfway through saying something that might be directed at her when she got up. As nice as this all was, even her social battery was drained. And also she was absurdly tired, and if she was nice enough to the Gardener he'd probably let her use his infinite collection of scarves as a pillow. She also probably needed to talk to Gear about the whole engagement thing because that was really fucking embarrassing to think about.
"Hey Gammon!" Waiter was trying to sound as happy to see him as possible, which was a bit of a struggle considering she felt like she was going to drop dead from exhaustion. But no one could say she didn't try very hard to be polite. Well, no one who only heard that one interaction could say that.
"No you can't borrow my scarves. Buy your own, considering you're literally royalty." Oh he was so dead. As soon as he surrendered her makeshift pillow, considering those chairs were most definitely going to give her the worst back pain of her three lives if she slept in them.
"Pretty please? I'll do the chores for once!" That of course, was a bold faced lie, one she would vehemently deny when the matter eventually went to Court. But he didn't need to know that, even though he probably should. And yet he fell for it, or sort of did. He seemed to be considering it at the very least, and she'd take that over nothing any day.
"Including telling your tree God friend to fuck off?" Waiter almost felt bad for a second when she remembered Gammon had to fight off literal gods on the daily, but seeing as that nesscitated not being too tired to form more than one coherent thought at once, she didn't. Actually, maybe she shouldn't sleep. Then she'd never feel absurdly guilty again! She nodded, because that was something she should probably get around to doing, pillow or not. Begrudgingly, Gammon handed over the scarves and she walked back over to her seat, where her absence had unfortunately been noticed.
"Manners, Riliane! You can't just walk away in the middle of a conversation!" Her mother scolded, unaware that she had broken the rules of politeness in far worse ways than just walking off. Unless she thought stabbing someone was more polite than walking away, which was actually a possibility considering the amount of assassins who were constantly in the palace. Waiter's constant murders didn't ever seem to help, which was disappointing considering half of them had been committed so assassins would leave her the fuck alone. She was not left the fuck alone.
"I kill people. With guns and knives." Oh no. She really said that out loud, didn't she? While the looks of horror on her family's faces were mildly entertaining, something told her that was maybe not the best thing to say in public, because now other people were looking at her. And probably wondering why she was apparently very nonchalant about murder.
"And on that note, your break is officially over." Elluka's head stuck out from behind the door, and she seemed to be holding back laughter. Waiter didn't know why she was holding it back, because as embarrassing as the situation was for her, it was objectively funny as shit, especially since her father was now holding his head in his hands, seemingly regretting his life choices, which he really should've started on a while ago, like the rest of them.
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Court was getting really, really sick of Waiter's absence. It had been mildly tolerable at first, but now she was just about ready to set everything on fire and cry for the rest of eternity. Of course, she had to make her father proud, so she couldn't, but it was only looking more and more desirable an option by the moment. She missed the fire. She wished she could set something ablaze besides the occasional visitor.
What she was also getting sick of was being constantly bothered by Hansel, who, in the absence of his twin sister and friend, had decided to latch on to his mother her, for some reason unknown to anyone with two braincells to rub together. Whenever he hadn't been with Grave, he had been following her around like a lost puppy, occasionally commenting on the most random things. Unfortunately, the whole lost puppy shtick was making it hard to get rid of him without feeling like shit.
"Court! You'll never guess what I found!" Said boy had just materialized behind her, seemingly out of thin air. Not that him doing so was ever completely out of the question, as he was very definitely irregular, and it wasn't as though there was some way of knowing if they could teleport or not. He had a letter clutched in his hand, and was waving it in her face wildly enough the text was a blurry mess.
"What did you find that's this important?" Though she had assumed her sarcasm was at the very least implied, he barely reacted, opting to instead enthusiastically chuck the folded paper at her, which meant it lived on the floor. Normally, Court would have Gammon or Waiter pick it up, but since neither of them were there and she didn't feel like somehow shattering into a million pieces, that was where it lived. Hansel, her son, Lemy, really was growing into a fine boy, frowned at her hesitation.
"Why aren't you picking it up?" He gestured at the paper, though she was almost completely certain it was either fanfic about Grave that people liked to send them, or another report from the police telling them to stop murdering people that would most definitely be ignored, especially as corpses became integrated into their meal plan.
"It's gross now. It's been on the floor." She explained, because there was no way Court was explaining the truth to her teenage son Grave's little minion, who would immediately tell his master all her darkest secrets that could inevitably be linked to her being porcelain.
"Well fine, I'll read it!" He huffed, before scooping the paper of on the rather dirty floor (what did anyone expect, their entire cleaning staff had been missing for weeks).
Dearest sister-in-law,
It is wonderful to write to you after so many years, and have you actually receive the letter. I'm sure you must feel the same, except with a little more severe disgust and need for reaching. Fear not, I'm unfortunately very dead. Your sins have nor quite yet come back to haunt you. Exciting, I know.
Anyways my guests from your theater are perfectly alive and well, and will remain so until they eventually ditch this place. After that they're your legal responsibility. As far as I'm aware.
Love,
Elluka Chirclatia