It was rare that Katrielle ever failed to cheer herself up after something unfavorable had happened. Normally, she'd take it as it was, seeing as it had already been done and nothing could've stopped it (or even if something could, it didn't, so what's the purpose of lamenting over that?), and moved on with her life unbothered.

It was way too rare that a cup of tea couldn't cheer her up from whatever doldrums she fell into, and even more so since it was Ernest's tea. That was why when she continued sulking after a sip, her brain reacted and screamed that something was wrong, while her body ignored it.

Katrielle couldn't remember the last time she felt so bitterly angry. Her morning was filled with mishaps that she couldn't control, and her afternoon was even worse. First, the stove had shut off at three in the morning, leaving her to shiver for two more hours before she couldn't take it anymore. She then proceeded to scale the stairs for at least ten times, going up and down until she felt warm enough to sit on her couch, which turned out to be freezing cold as well.

At approximately seven, the postman rang her doorbell. Katrielle had looked outside and felt sorry for him, as he had to trek through the whole neighborhood handing out mail in such freezing and blustery weather. Of course, she'd have reserved her sympathy for herself if she was clairvoyant. Anyway, she had slipped on her coat and opened her door, ready to receive the tea leaves that she had ordered, but only to find the postman bolting off to chase a little brown box that looked like her tea leaves. Katrielle stood still, watching as the box bounced on the road, under a car, over a lamp, then finally as it threw itself into the Thames and sank like the Titanic. She had assured the postman that she could do a few days without tea.

In a weather like that, no shop would've been open. Well, obviously, no shop was open. So, Katrielle, being the chef that she was, toasted bread and ate it with jam for brunch. It was a sad sight, a girl sitting alone in her kitchen, eating bread on a plate. But don't let this sight fool you, for if she wanted to, the girl could cook like a Michelin star chef. She just didn't want to. Yes, that's all.

Sure, it was only a matter of spontaneity. Everything horrible that came after, what with her ramming into a pole because a branch flew into her face, thinking that she forgot the keys to the agency at home and having to trek back only to discover they were in her bag all along, those were all things she couldn't have prevented as they were spontaneous. At least, that's what Katrielle told herself. It made her feel better, but clearly not enough, for she was still sulking, still bitter.

Even her tea tasted bitter.

"Ernest," she started, "Does the tea taste a bit weird to you?"

The assistant frowned. He poured himself a cup and drank it, then his head. "No, miss. Why? Has your cup gone bad? I'll pour another-"

"No, no need." Katrielle cut him off, then continued sulking, glaring at the window.

"Miss?"

"Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." No, clearly not.

Immediately after Katrielle's thought formed itself, a loud snap, almost close to a crackle of lighting, sounded. Sherl jumped up, sniffing the air for whatever reason as if he thought the crack came from oxygen and nitrogen colliding with each other.

Then, the agency turned pitch black.

Katrielle was not even surprised that the lights shut off. She uttered a four letter word that could be used as a noun, a verb, an adjective, an adverb, but most importantly, an auxiliary for anger.

"I hate the dark," she grumbled, "Today's been the worst."

Somewhere in the darkness, Ernest chuckled. The laugh exerted more force on a string that was about to snap. Eventually, the string broke into two pieces.

"What now?" Katrielle growled, the whole day's mishaps bubbling in her chest.

She heard shuffling, more shuffling, a clink, then silence.

"Ernest?"

Sherl snorted in response.

"Not you, you old dog."

"Well, I wasn't responding to ya."

"Shut up."

"Whoa. Someone got off the wrong side of the bed today?"

"Shut up."

Another shuffle sounded, then a howl.

"Pinstripes! Careful where your foot lands!"

"Sorry!"

Katrielle called out again. "Ernest?"

"Yes, miss?" The assistant responded.

"Where'd you go?"

A small burst of light told her the answer. "The matches were in the kitchen, miss."

"Ah."

Ernest brought the flames to a candle. He locked eyes with Katrielle, then smiled as bright as the flames burned.

"Sometimes it's best to light a candle than curse the darkness, miss."

Katrielle's mind registered his words as senseless small talk. Then, after thirty seconds, she realized what he was referring to. A small smile graced her lips despite herself. She breathed a laugh.

"Of course, Ernest. Of course."

anyone catch the discworld reference?