Let's be Friends || Black Butler x Male! Reader

Coffins

"And well. . . I reached the human realm right after."

"How thrilling, that must 'ave been!"

The Undertaker had brought you into his shop. You thought it was quite nice. It was filled with coffins, which were something you had never seen before. They looked very comfortable.

The two of you settled inside, with you placing your new clothes on a coffin and with the Undertaker making you a cup of tea, albeit he served it to you in a rather weird looking cup with measurements on it. You weren't sure what kind of cup it was. Maybe it was a human thing.

Anyway, you had just finished telling your tragic tale, the Undertaker so patiently listening.

"I guess so. . . After I fell, I've been living out in the woods."

"Oh really? Then you must've been living out there for. . . Five years!"

"I have. But it wasn't all bad. At least, I don't think it was. It looks really pretty out there."

"Didn't you get hungry out there?"

You laughed, "What do you mean? Angels don't need to eat."

"They don't? Then what do you do? Surely you need to sleep?"

You hummed and rested your head on your hand. The two of you sat up at the front desk of the shop.

"I think eating and sleeping are only to pass time and for pleasure. Isn't it like that for grim reapers?"

He shrugged in reply, tapping his nails (which were strangely long and black) against the desk.

"No, not really. We're practically human, except we don't die as easily." He replied, throwing a biscuit into his mouth.

"That's interesting. . . Wait, grim reapers die? That's. . . Unexpected."

"Angels can't? You're father was killed, wasn't he?"

You griminced, "I mean. . . Yes, but we can only be killed by other angels. Not by other things, as far as we know. The only thing that can kill an angel are angels themselves or an archangel's sword. Er, well- an archangel's sword can kill anything, I'm pretty sure. That's it's purpose."

You passed the sword, still in it's scabbard, to him. The Undertaker examined it carefully, before deciding to remove it from it's scabbard.

The sword could simply be described as an angel would be.

Angelic. Delicate. Bright.

It was a sleek steel sword that was shinier than any fancy silverware he had ever seen. And it's handle was a beautiful golden colored metal. The swords hilt, or handle, resembled the wings of an angel. It was definitely no fencing sword.

This was a sword.

The Undertaker took a look at the point of the sword, gently placing his finger onto it, before quickly pulling it back.

The sword drew blood, immediately.

He sucked on his bloodied finger as he told you, "Then it's the same for reapers."

"What do you mean?"

"The only thing that can kill a grim reaper are death scythes, and apparently this sword here."

The Undertaker fiddled with the sword. He jabbed it into certain directions as if he had actually been fighting someone. You would say he's a bit sloppy.

"Ah! I thought you meant grim reapers have stronger bodies. Like with humans and their organs and weird bodily fluids."

"Do angels not have those?"