Mr. Julian Syrus was somewhat annoyed.
The toy company he worked for had sent him all the way to London on the pretense of meeting a toy tycoon to discuss a possible partnership, and he had taken a carriage to the place, and now he was sitting at a beautiful antique table with no one on the other side.
A butler had told him that the master would be along shortly. Ha! These Brits were all the same- stuffy, thoroughly annoying, and thinking they were better than anyone else.
Well. He had been sent here, and he would try to make the best of it.
"The guest is here!" Finny hollered at Mey-Rin, who went scurrying down the hall to inform Sebastian when she tripped and fell headlong into Ciel, knocking the wind out of them both.
Ciel attempted shakily to rise, his face a faint shade of grey. Sebastian rushed out of the kitchen to steady him. "Master, are you all right?"
"Yes," Ciel coughed. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Is Mr. Syrus here?"
"Yes, sir, yes, that's what I was rushin' to tell you!" Mey-Rin squeaked. Sebastian peered closely into Ciel's eyes.
"Master, you look a little pale. Are you quite sure-?"
"I'm fine!" Ciel snapped. "I just had a bit too much breakfast, that's all."
Sebastian looked thoughtful. "Very well then. Your guest is waiting for you in the drawing room."
Ciel marched off. As soon as he was out of sight, Sebastian beckoned to Mey-Rin.
"Mey-Rin, I want you to go to the drawing room and stand against the wall. Do nothing. Say nothing. Just stand there. If you see the master looking ill at all, you come out immediately and let me know. Is that clear?"
"Oh, yes, Mister Sebastian!" Mey-Rin squeaked, and with that she dashed away, only to lose her balance and tumble to the ground. Sebastian sighed.
"Walk, please, Mey-Rin," he called after the hapless maid.
"You really think that's gonna work?" Bard asked dubiously as Sebastian re-entered the kitchen and began stacking tiny sugar cakes onto a silver plate. Sebastian smiled.
"Of course it will."
Julian was beginning to wonder when this meeting would be over.
A little boy had sat down opposite him, declared himself the Earl Phantomhive, and begun discussing the company. His manner was supercilious and annoying and Julian was extremely fed up with the brat, owner if Funtom or not.
The butler entered again with a silver tray of aromatic tiny cakes and strong-smelling tea, bowed, and exited. Julian took a sip from his teacup and a bite of a cake. Both were fresh and well-made. Opposite him, the little earl swallowed hard and coughed lightly.
"Won't you have some?" Julian asked curiously. The boy waved a hand weakly.
"No, no need. Now, about these wooden blocks."
But Julian could tell something was wrong. The little earl was looking almost sick, and he hadn't touched any food or tea. Weren't you supposed to eat and drink together at these meetings?
The boy hiccupped. A noise behind him made Julian whip around in his seat. The pink-haired maidservant was rushing out of the room, boots slapping loudly against the floor.
Another hiccup. The little earl had pressed a napkin to his mouth, yet he still hadn't touched a thing. These Brits really were odd.
The door opened yet again, and the butler walked swiftly in, heading for the earl's chair. He bowed to Julian. "Good day, sir. Unfortunately, I find it my duty to inform you that I must cut this meeting short, as my master is urgently required elsewhere. I apologize, and I will have someone escort you out. Good day."
And with that, he scooped the little earl out of his chair and literally ran him out of the room, living a bewildered Julian sitting once again at a deserted table.
These Brits. Honestly.
"So, how'd it go?" Bard asked cheerfully as Sebastian came back into the kitchen a quarter of an hour later. Sebastian began making tea. "It went perfectly, Bard. Finish the dishes."
"So Young Master got sick after all, eh?" Bard grinned as he applied himself to the enormous mound of dishes in the sink. "Finny told me you made him escort the guest out, and Mey-Rin told me Young Master almost threw up during the meeting but you hustled him out of there just in time."
Sebastian glared at him. "Enough."
Bard shrugged and flicked at his cigarette. "Whatever you say, Sebastian."
Ciel was lying on his bed, half-asleep, when Sebastian came in with the tea. The young earl groaned softly as the scent of the hot beverage reached him. Sebastian helped him sit up to drink.
"Why did you go into the meeting if you were feeling poorly?" the butler asked as Ciel's eyelids drooped. "We could have rescheduled."
"Thought I could handle it," Ciel mumbled as he took a sip. "Was doing fine until you brought the food in."
Sebastian inclined his head. "My apologies, Master."
"I can't drink this," Ciel muttered, pushing the tea back at Sebastian. "I want to go to sleep."
Sebastian bowed. "Would you like me to bring you anything?"
"Yes. Bring me a few wet cloths. The room is too hot."
Sebastian bowed once more and left the room.
