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"Okay, uh, bad news. . ."
"What happened?"
"Nightmare noticed that I'm enjoying it here, so I'm being sent back. The only reason I'm here right now is because Cross convinced him that I should say goodbye. So. . Goodbye. . ."
...
Two months without Chara. The most boring two months of Betty's life. She wondered what had happened. Had Chara been forgiven? Was he doing overdue work? Did Chara forget about her?
She turned over. No, he couldn't have. . . She was a mortal- no! He wouldn't!
Hopefully.
...
"You look like someone died." Frisk chuckled, poking Betty's shoulder.
"Kind of. . ."
"Holy fuck."
"They didn't! They're just. . . Not with me. . ."
"Pf, that sounds like death." Betty glared.
"Geez, fine."
". . . Death. . . Holy shit, I'm gonna make an offering to Reaper real quick!!"
...
"Betty! What are you doing?" Miss Nelson asked.
"An offering."
"What for?"
"Uh, I don't know." She lied.
Miss Nelson scoffed. "Honestly, Betty, you need to learn how to lie." She rolled her eyes.
"Sorry. . ." She looked down.
Miss Nelson sighed. "I'll ask again; what for?"
"To see Chara. I'm going to send an offering to Reaper."
"Reaper-?! The God of Death?! That's dangerous-!"
"Chara said he's-!"
"Stop, Betty. He's not here."
"That doesn't mean I can't see him again."
"That ghost never belonged here in the first place!"
"But he's still my friend!"
"Frisk is your friend, too!"
"They're not Chara, though!" She shoved past Miss Nelson and got as much coffee stuff as she could.
"Betty-! Are you going to offer coffee-?!"
"Just watch."
...
"What do you mean he's not available?!"
"Betty! Stop arguing with Death!" Miss Nelson hissed. She turned to Reaper. "I deeply apologise for my step-daughter's behaviour, your greatness."
Reaper loosened his pinch from his nosebridge. ". . . Step out, mortal. I'd like to speak to her alone."
"Alone-?"
"Yes." Reaper glared. Miss Nelson tensed, nodding. "She won't die." He assured her as she left. Afterwards, he fell onto Betty's bed, groaning. "You're being a pain in the ass, kid. CC said you were stubborn, but damn. . ." He squeezed one of Betty's pillows as something of a stress ball.
". . . Do you always pretend that everything around you is yours?" She muttered. "Your clothes are dusty, it's getting on my blanket."
"Don't care. When I said he wasn't available, he isn't available. Try again later."
