New York City, America. 1939.
"Sebastian."
"Yes, young master?"
"…I dislike this game."
Disgruntled, Ciel spins his chair around and flops his head back. Years of idle lazing about and an exponentially more relaxed schedule has left with the young demon with some less than proper habits. Or then again, maybe it is the influence of these Americans. Sebastian tuts quietly. His young master would have been appalled to even think the words "snazzy" or "aces" a hundred years ago.
"Remind me again why we are playing this godforsaken board game?" Ciel whines piteously, for what must have been the fifth time that hour.
His butler smiles pleasantly. "As we have relocated to the American continent, I thought it appropriate to provide entertainment popular in our setting. 'Monopoly' is all the rage in the States currently."
Ciel slouches farther down into his chair.
"You know, adaptability is a useful trait for a human to have (to say nothing of a demon). And wouldn't you say that carrying on in this manner is just a tad immature? Hmm, but wait, young master, I forgot…"
"Shut up." grumbles Ciel. "Just because I was assigned to adolescence for eternity doesn't mean I have not matured mentally."
"… does it really?"
Ciel's glare almost peels the paint off of the walls, and it seems as if he will fall wholly onto the floor if he tries to sink lower in the armchair.
Sebastian displays his signature smirk, fitting for one of the most powerful demons in existence. He's quite proud of it. "I regret to say this, my most esteemed little lord, but I am afraid you owe me two thousand dollars in rent."
"Drat!"
Definitely the Americans.