"Aye aye." Reaper nodded and grinned as he hopped off the bed and sank through the cloud floor, the top of Scarlet's handle passing through just as a pony walked in from the catwalk outside. A coat as red as new blood clashed against the white of his labcoat, a grey mane carrying a sense of aged wisdom, however matted and stained it was. The stale scent of formaldehyde and cleaning solution clung to him like a disease, but his expression held its cold, business-like scowl, experienced golden eyes turning to his patient.