Jack looked around. He realised he was back in the same office as he'd appeared in the first time he'd died, he also realised to his dismay, that he still wore the top-heavy young girl's body he'd unintentionally designed for himself.
"Er, yes, I made a bit of a mess of it last time." He said.
"So I see." She wasn't smiling.
"So if you'll just process me, I'll go back through the canteen and I can get it right this time." He smiled, trying to ignore the strange sound of his voice.
The woman behind the desk frowned. "I'm afraid it's not that simple, Miss Morris. You can't just go around killing yourself and expect it to go unpunished. Dying of natural causes in an accident is one thing, but this time you slit your wrists!"
Jack frowned, worriedly, he hadn't thought of that.
The woman's face seemed a little apologetic. "I understand you have a unique situation here. We here at the afterlife are not unfeeling oafs, yet at the same time we can't just let you keep doing this until you get it right."
Jack piped up while he had the chance: "Er, you can't just let me off? I can go through the canteen again, sort this all out and we'll forget all about it."
She looked up. "Sorry, but it seems as though some attributes of your previous choices will not be changed, others at our discretion..."
Jack blacked out...
