Hi my people!
I did all this today. I couldn't hepl myself; I wrote a little short and I wanted to do this.
I do not own Black Butler. Tell me if you wanna turn this into a series, kay?
Charlotte Locke slumped, back against the door, eyes on the numerous gifts her eldest cousin had dared her to wear for the coming month. Making a mental note to kick her cousin's ass to high heaven the next time they would see each other again, she asked Lucian to help haul them into the secret passage to avoid…him.
And his schemes.
And other things he was perfectly capable of pulling off.
"I still don't understand why you do this. He is your butler, anyway." Lucian said, bringing half the boxes while Charlotte got the other half.
"I don't trust him to change my look entirely, Lucian. Even if the both of us agreed to this relationship." Charlotte's gray eyes narrowed. "I can still remember his greatest mess from the first day." She hung her head, topped with squiggly blue lines. His greatest mess was created within twenty-four hours of his first day.
And the house pretty much fell apart from there.
Charlotte put the boxes on the secret chamber's table. "I'll go check if the coast is clear. I'll ring the bell to signal you to put them in the dumbwaiter." She said, walking out the door and into dangerous territory – the mansion itself.
"Of course, Lady Charlotte." Lucian called after her.
"I heard that!" Lottie yelled.
"Um…I mean…yessir Lottie!"
From the chamber, Lottie walked to the kitchen and found herself in the lobby. Her room was a flight of stairs up and some ways off.
What greeted her in her bedroom was total and utter murder.
The plants on her balcony were painted red.
The draperies were red.
The furniture was red.
The lamp was red.
The mirror had been painted with red hearts, and so were the windows.
The metals were replaced with red.
Hell, even Charlotte's normal lingerie had been replaced with red ones.
Shaking, she picked up a card, the only thing that didn't look like a woman didn't have childbirth all over it.
On the card in red ink it was scrawled:
Dear Miss Lottie,
I'm in the middle of a little Grim Reaper business for a while. I'll be back tonight to fix
the rest of the house.
With love,
Grell Sutcliffe,
Your butler.
P.S. I hope you like the lingerie. I picked them out myself.
And so there was only one thing to do:
Scream bloody murder so loud that hell could hear it.
Somewhere, Grell had finished off a new assignment and was walking off to buy more paint for the Locke manor.
That is, before he felt like someone was screaming his name. And that someone was pissed to the extreme.
"What is it, Grell?" William irritatedly pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He came to watch Grell's performance, and he did quite well, using his homicidal tendencies to keep the assignment right in line.
"Nothing, Willy. A disturbance. Lottie must want the entire house turned red now." Grell smiled, thinking of Charlotte's face when he'd get back.