Myrtle stopped in her tracks. Who would bother talking to her? She was just another passerby, not to mention how her attire would normally scare people off. However, she was intrigued someone like him, clearly of noble or wealthy standing, was addressing her, a humble mortician. She didn’t quite care for people of wealth, the Grimoire family being the only exception, as her family had served them for as long as she could remember. She looked the man up and down, eyeing his clothing, that might have been custom made to his liking. She wanted to scoff, but kept it in, and replied to the man instead.
“I am here to fullfil my duty as the Grimoire Family’s Head Mortician, as my mother, the previous head mortician, has passed on.”
Her voice was one of nonchalance, her tone monotonus, as though reading off a script she was tired of rehearsing.
“Could you please point me in the direction of the Grimoire Family’s residence?”
She asked, her tone unchanging and voice unwavering.
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