Ghost in the Machine (Undertaker x Female Reader)

Chapter Fourteen.

I heard the boiler growling in the bathroom as I poked around the meager kitchen for tea. I found a tin of loose leaves—was this the Darjeeling from before?—while I listened to the sound of water filling the tub. He might be a bit if he was planning on having a bath, I thought. I found a pair of mismatched teacups and saucers, and measured tea leaves into the pot. There were a few kettles around, so I'd filled one and let it heat up on the stove; the Undertaker had stoked the embers and added some wood before, so that it was warming the room nicely by now. While waiting for the water to boil, I peeked inside a black jar among the tea things on the counter.

...Bones? In shape alone, I surmised, as the buttery shortbread scent wafted to my nose.

I was nibbling one when I heard the water turn off. I was pouring boiling water into the tea pot, the bone cookie half in my mouth (for who was there to see me?) when the bathroom door opened, and the Undertaker emerged from a cloud of steam.

(Ah, of course, this is who would see me.)

He chuckled at my faceful of buttery treasure. To my surprise, he was already dressed in his black pants and white shirt; the damp strands of hair around his face were a clue that he had at least performed the perfunctory wash-up. He lightly rubbed behind his ears with a towel, drying what his long locks had taken in while he'd scrubbed his neck. I noticed that he was barefoot, his toenails inked black to match the talons at his fingertips.

"Oh, you've made tea, how kind." He let his towel rest around his shoulders, and one palm atop my head. "Come along and we'll bring it with us; I've filled the bath for you."

I swallowed my cookie. "I thought you were filling it for yourself...?"

"Oh, I took a basin of the water as it was filling and did my wash while it was going. I had a proper bath the other day, and I'm sure after last night, your muscles could benefit from the heat. Or...have they gone back to cold water being the supposed tonic?" He tilted his silvery head in thought, a black claw posed to his mouth.

I shook my head. "I can't keep track of what they believe anymore." I had always thought the guidance of "professionals" to use cold water for therapeutic and hygiene purposes had to be rubbish, for what body could feel anything but the harshest of chills in response to bathing in ice-melt? However, the temperature of this particular bath was not of concern.

The issue, really, was...hadn't I just woken up in a precarious position with this man? To bring the tea along for "us" suggested he intended to be present while I bathed. Of course, it wouldn't be the first time, and I knew he had seen humans at their most vulnerable as a matter of daily course. I longed to get down to our promised discussion; would that hinge on my agreement to this?

He frowned, watching my expression cloud over. "Are you worried I might try something? –oh, one moment!" He turned to dig around next to the small stock of firewood, before standing up with a look of triumph and a length of black iron in his hand. "Fire poker!" He giggled madly, and I couldn't help snorting at the gesture.

"How thoughtful of you, gifting me the right to commit violence against you in the middle of a nice, hot soak." I took it from him, pretending to wield it like a sword.

He had cackled loudly before suddenly turning silent, a look of faint inspiration passing over his features before he shook his head. The grin returned, and I briefly questioned the quality of sight my spectacles were capable of, even as everything appeared crystal clear through their tinted lenses.

"Well then," he poured the tea out into the cups and lifted them, drifting back towards the bathroom. "Come along, love, and bring your weapon. This would be as good a time as any to make good on my promised explanation."