Downhill || 𝘥𝘯𝘧

XXXI

// 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 //

Dream and George entered the hospital and made their way through the lobby toward the receptionist, a stout old lady with thick rectangle glasses and a snake-like expression. She looked like at any moment she could snap and start sucking peoples' blood like a vampire. When they walked up to her, she surveyed them with a judgmental expression as George explained that they needed to see his father in the mortuary.

"Name," she cawed in a raspy old voice, and when she spoke Dream smelled the unmistakable stench of cigarettes roll off her tongue. He automatically recoiled with a barely contained scowl. George shot him a warning glance, as if he noticed, too, but didn't want to anger her or make a scene.

"George Davidson," George spoke in response. The lady; Brenda, going by the name on her shirt; scribbled down George's name on a nametag before handing it to him. She then turned her cold-eyed gaze on Dream and looked him over with a scowl. 

"And who is this?" She demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Dream. "Only family members are allowed in the mortuary," she growled. Dream stared at her, eyes narrowed, as George took a breath to reply.

There was no hesitation in George's voice as he responded, "he's my boyfriend." In a tone just as accusatory as her's. That was a new word. Dream glanced at him, but George didn't meet his eyes. He was too busy staring at the lady, waiting for her to respond.

She stared at the both of them with that same judgmental glare for a long moment before eventually caving and letting out a scoff. "Okay then," she snickered under her breath, shaking her head slowly with a sneer on her face. "What's your name?" She asked Dream, sniffing distastefully.

"Clay," Dream stated flatly.

"Clay what?" She asked as she scribbled down the letters. "I need a last name, honey." She rasped out the words as if she were talking to a child.

Well, two can play at that game.

"No you don't," Dream retorted, crossing his arms at her. If she was going to treat him like a child, he was going to act like one.

"Yes, I do," she shot back, staring at him. "Either you tell me a last name, or you don't get to go in at all. Which is it gonna be, honey?" She asked, raising her voice slightly. Dream stared at her evenly.

"First of all, stop calling me honey. I'm not your honey. Second of all, no I don't. There is no rule anywhere that says I need to give you my full name if a member of the family permits me to go with him." Dream motioned pointedly to George. "And third of all, how about you give me your last name, Brenda? I would love to take it up with your supervisor," He asked, keeping his voice absolutely even, despite the anger he felt rising in the pit of his stomach. He absolutely despised blockheads such as herself.

"Dream," George whispered through his teeth, kicking Dream not-so-subtly in the foot.

"What?" Dream whispered innocently in response, not breaking his glare with the Brenda lady.

"Stop," George said with a pointed stare at him. Dream hesitated. The lady was glaring at him, waiting for him to say something. She obviously had no intention of actually giving Dream her last name. Not like he really wanted it, anyway. He was just trying to prove a point. 

Finally, Dream sighed in defeat. "Fine. You want my last name?" He asked, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. "It's Balls," he lied. Brenda raised an eyebrow at him.