Not many people had the guts to tell God to go fuck himself. Even fewer of those people were fifteen year old girls. Then again, Lord Death mused, what did he know about fifteen year old girls? Maybe they were all mouthy, substance-abusing, disrespectful little monsters. This particular specimen and her sister had been under his roof for less than two hours and they'd put the entire house in an uproar. He'd finally cornered Elizabeth Thompson in the library and informed her in no uncertain terms that rehab was in her future.

She'd responded by telling him off in a heap, grabbing a bottle of his 62 year-old Dalmore scotch and swigging it like water. She glared at him with blue eyes that would have been lovely if they weren't so bloodshot. Her pupils were mere pinpricks, and he wondered what on earth she was on. Out of all the criminals in New York, Kid couldn't have found a couple of sober ones to bring home?

"You can go fuck yourself!" Liz repeated, tossing her wild mane of dirty blonde hair, "You aren't taking my sister away from me!"

"Nobody is trying to separate you and your sister. You are both going in for medical testing and then into a work rehabilitation program until I know if I can trust either of you."

Frankly, Death was almost more concerned about the little one, Patricia. Elizabeth was street-wise, smart-mouthed and liked her chemicals, but her twelve year-old sister seemed downright dangerous. She was the same age as his son, but ten times more terrifying. Lord Death had a few choice words he wanted to say to the usually dependable Kid, who had been banished to his room until this mess could be straightened out.

"Work rehabilitation?!" Liz shrieked, "Your stupid son said we were going to be his personal weapons, and now you're trying to pull this shit on me? If he even is your son. How come he looks like does and you look like...that?"

Lord Death sighed and dissolved his Reaper aspect. Not something he did in front of most people, but the girl was high as a kite and probably wouldn't remember anyway.

"Better?" he asked.

She didn't bat an eyelash, "Well I guess you are his daddy after all." she drawled, putting poisonous emphasis on the 'daddy', "Where is the little bastard, anyway? He promises us the friggin' moon, drags us to the middle of nowhere, and then disappears. Typical guy."

She lifted the Scotch and took another healthy slug straight from the bottle.

"You don't drink good Scotch that way." Death grabbed the bottle out of her hand and stalked back to the liquor cabinet where he poured a couple of neat doubles.

"First lesson," he said, handing her a heavy-bottomed crystal glass etched with his skull emblem, "If you're going to do something, do it right."

Liz looked dumbfounded, "You tell me I have to get all clean and well-behaved before I'm allowed around your precious baby and then give me a glass of booze? What the hell is wrong with you? Like, it's only bad if I'm not drinking it out of a fancy-ass cup?"

"You already took it without asking. I just gave you something to put it in. And aren't "fancy ass" things the whole reason you agreed to come here? I sincerely doubt it's because you want to use your talents to help us promote order and peace in the world."

Lord Death thought she was going to throw the glass at him. Liz knew that she was.

"If you break that, you are going to be one very sorry young lady."

His voice was hard, and for the first time, Liz' bravado failed her. She put the glass down and lit a cigarette to hide her fear. If there was one thing she knew about men, it was that you never let them see you scared.

"No smoking," he told her, "Kid's allergic."

Okay, even God being pissed off at her couldn't stop her from thinking that was funny.

"He's supposed to be a bad-ass, son-of-God Reaper and smoke gives him the sniffles?" she giggled hysterically, shaking so hard she almost dropped the cigarette on the rug. Maybe she should go ahead and drop it. Burn a hole right through the thing. It was awfully expensive-looking and she was willing to be it wasn't a fake. Serve them right, stupid-ass rich people looking down on her and telling her what to do...

"I sent Kid to take your souls, you know." Lord said conversationally, pausing to take a much-needed sip of his drink, "Your crimes were pushing you toward becoming kishin. Kid is convinced that you were only doing what you had to in order to survive. Convinced enough to want you as personal weapons. Which, I might add, he actually has no need of, and I suspect he's being driven by, uh, aesthetic motives. I'm humoring all three of you right now but there is a limit to what I'm going to put up with. And right now you're pushing that limit pretty hard."

He was standing in front of her, watching her antics impassively, and when Liz glanced up at him the laughter died on her lips. His yellow eyes were sort of glowing and Liz could see some kind of purple sparks coming off of him. She realized he wasn't fooling around; she'd been around death enough to recognize it's crawling sensation on her skin. He really wouldn't hesitate to take her soul. and then what would happen to Patty? They'd come here for Kid's wealth and she needed to stay alive so her sister could take advantage of it. She turned away and tossed the cigarette into the fireplace.

"Thank you."Lord Death said politely. The weird light went out of his eyes and the sparks stopped snapping around him. Now he just looked...disappointed, and it made Liz feel worse than any amount of anger could have. She'd pissed off a lot of people in her life, but nobody had ever bothered to be disappointed in her before.

"You're welcome." Liz held out her glass, "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Drink up." he replied, "But from this minute on there will be no drugs, no smoking, you will ask if you want a drink, and there will be precious few times I say yes. You will meet the terms of your parole, and you will behave yourself, and if you become my son's weapons you will act in a manner befitting that position. Can you manage that?"

Damn straight she could. She wasn't going to let anything get between her and the good life that was just within her grasp. Money was safety, and Patty was going to be safe no matter what Liz had to do.

"Sure I can. No problem." she shrugged, trying act like she wasn't terrified.

"Well then," Lord Death clinked his glass against hers, "Here's to your future, Elizabeth."

A/N: I don't know if Kid really has allergies (probably not), but it cracked me up in chapter three of the manga/anime when they go into the pyramid and he was complaining because the dust made his eyes itch. It was sort of precious, so I ran with it, even though he is a Reaper.