My mom found Wizards 101. I may never see the laptop again. Please. Someone kill that game.
Ciel was in a dangerous position. The man in front of him was a nobleman from England and he knew his name and where he lived now. The nobleman just sat there, staring at him as Ciel grabbed at the curtains behind him. Once introductions had been completed, the man backed off and further reclined on the fainting couch. Ciel took the moments of silence to actually study the man; he was around the same age as the people Ciel generally targeted. This put Ciel at some slight ease, at least it was not some old man who had found about his existence. But this knowledge did not prevent his desire to run and Ciel was only inching closer to the door as the staring of the older man continued. His vermillion stare was unnerving, as if he could see right through everything Ciel was and the feeling left the boy feeling very exposed and frightened. But there was also the spark of amusement that made Ciel stay put, knowing somehow-instinctually almost-that the man would not turn him in. In fact the man seemed as amused with Ciel's discomfort as Ciel felt unnerved about being around the man. It also did not help that the man did not look threatening. He was handsome, probably even more so than anyone Ciel had encountered before.
Ciel released the curtain and shuffled around under the man's gaze. It was intense, as if every fiber of Ciel's being was being judged.
"What?!" He finally shouted at the man, making the man chuckle.
"You are cute." He said and Ciel felt his temper flare.
"Excuse me?! You stalked me for two days and followed me to my home to tell me I'm CUTE?!" Ciel snapped as he approached the man, feet stomping on the ground like a temperamental five year old.
"Well, not really. I wanted to know more about you." The man admitted.
"No thank you. I already told you, I'm not a whore. So leave." Ciel barked at the man, crossing his arms.
"So how old are you?"
"How old are you?"
"So you live here without being a whore?"
"Why are you in France if you're a British nobleman?"
"Are you just going to keep dodging my questions by asking me ones about myself?"
"How long to intend to stay here, bothering me?"
The man went silent then, meeting Ciel's angry glare with an indifferent one and refused to look away. Ciel continued glaring at the man, frustrated that he could not get a read on the man. It was like there was nothing behind his eyes, and it was all Ciel could do not to scream. Ciel was normally very good at reading people and could instantly tell what a person was thinking, but this time, there was nothing. There was no way to tell if the man was being honest or malicious or manipulative or was genuinely interested in Ciel. That was perhaps the most frustrating of all; the fact that Ciel could not tell if he was being led on or not. There was nothing, no red flags, no feeling of comfort, nothing.
"I'm leaving." Ciel announced and pivot turned on his heel towards the door.
"Shame." The man said, tone clearly telling Ciel that if he left something would happen. The first jolt of suspicion he felt since he entering the room flickered in Ciel's head and he slowly turned.
"Why?" He asked carefully.
"I was going to invite you to dinner with me, but if you insist on leaving, I guess I'll have to make my decision on my own."
"What decision?"
"The decision on whether or not I'd tell the new brothel owner about your presence here or not." The threat was clear and Ciel felt ice trickle down his spine and his heart stop. He knew what the man was doing, it was a tactic Ciel had seen used many times. The man was now blackmailing him into dinner. And Ciel had no choice anymore.
"When?" He asked, frustrated defeat in his voice.
"I will take you as soon as you are dressed properly." The man said and Ciel tightened his fists. Well, that was a rather broad invitation, Ciel could just walk from the room and run. But he would not; and damn it that man knew it. Ciel would not risk being exposed. He had been played, and far worse than that, the man had read right through him.
Growling under his breath, Ciel stomped out the room and slammed the door again, looking at Angelina who had been true to her word and waiting in the lobby. Making eye contact with her and telling her that he was upset, he dashed off to their room; Angelina's clicking heels echoing behind him as she attempted to keep up. Ciel rushed in their room without much thought and nearly ran Meyrin over in his temper tantrum. The young woman quickly adjusted and steadied herself under Ciel's collide, grabbing his arms.
"Ciel? What's wrong?" She asked.
"Nothing." Ciel said in a pouting voice, removing himself from Meyrin's grasp and kicking up clothing on the floor.
"Then why are you looking for an outfit like you have some kind of last minute appointment?"
"Cause I do. No, not an appointment, I have a last minute dinner date with an unreadable, blackmailing jerk!" He shouted, earning a chuckle from Angelina when she entered the room.
"Is that what that man wanted?" She asked and Ciel sent her a glare.
"Did the word 'blackmail' slip past your ears?" Ciel snapped and Angelina laughed.
"Oh please, love. If I had a payment for every time I've been 'blackmailed' by a client, I'd be richer than a pirate." She said, tapping the boy on the head as she did. "Though I have to wonder why he wants to take you to dinner. Perhaps he wishes to invest in the brothel." She muttered to herself. "You know, if you start work with a patron already lined up, you'd basically be safe in the business for life." She said as she pushed Ciel to the side in his clothing search.
"I seem to recall having this conversation with Grell earlier. Speaking of, where is he?" Ciel asked, watching as Angelina went through the clothing around the room.
"He spotted Will, so I doubt he'll be back before closing." Meyrin stated and Ciel rolled his eyes. It was well known that Grell was pining after the stiff hired guard, though the man seemed about as interested as Ciel was in going to dinner.
"Poor Will." Ciel stated as a pile of clothing was suddenly thrown at him. He was about to protest when he looked at them.
"What in the world is this, Angelina?" He almost yelled.
"You can't go to a date with just any clothes, love. These are your date clothes." She said flippantly before giving a look to Ciel that told him that he had better get dressed or else. With a growl Ciel did as he was told.
When he was dressed, he wanted to roll his eyes as his mother's sense of clothing. He was dressed in something half way between the typical clothing of the 1930s and his mother's obsession with the Victorian Era. Knee-length shorts of basic black made up his lower half while a blue dress shirt was covered by a darker blue vest that was adorned with gold buttons. As he pulled up his socks and attached his mid-shin high black shoes that bore a slight heel, he sighed. The deep blue of the laces tied the shoes to the top and when he looked up at his mother, she handed him a black pinstripe jacket that was only a little too long for him. It wasn't bulky however and as Angelina buttoned it shut, the stripes did their job and made Ciel look even skinnier and straighter than he already was. She made sure his boots were tightened properly and clapped her hands.
"You look completely adorable, Ciel!" She said. "I am wonderful at picking clothing. He won't be able to resist you in these." She affirmed and both Ciel and Meyrin rolled their eyes.
"I don't think you should be putting Ciel on display like this. The man might be dangerous." Meyrin commented as Ciel rolled the sleeves up on the jacket to make them fit his arms, finding the process frustrated when the sleeves refused to fold symmetrically.
"The only danger here is Ciel not getting his attention." Angelina waved the younger woman off.
"I don't like the idea of a stranger wanting to take Ciel out and none of us going with him." Meyrin protested as Ciel finally just gave up on the jacket and ripped it off, leaving just the shirt and vest. At least the shirt was already pinned at his wrists. He glared at the offensive coat before sighing and patting Meyrin on the hand.
"I'll be fine. Promise." He assured, taking her hand gun when the woman still looked unsure. He carefully tucked it into his vest, and it was basically hidden as the gun was intended to only carry one shot. Such a small gun may have seemed like a foolish idea, but not with Meyrin or Ciel. Both were very good at shooting and one bullet was enough to get an attacker off their trail. Once Angelina stopped fussing over the hair he would probably just mess up again once she was out of sight, Ciel took another breath. It was time for him to go on his date.
It was the second time that week that Ciel had been treated to a meal by a wealthy man. But this time he was not trying to get money from the man, so he hardly touched the food in front of him and instead spent his time watching the man for any sign of weakness Ciel could exploit. He was being critical of the man and every detail, from a thread loose in the man's black pinstripe suit, to every twitch his hand made when he reached for his glass. Everything was catalogued. But the man was almost crazy perfect. His hair was framing his face perfectly, even the hairs that would normally be out of place seemed to a perfect style for the man. His skin was slightly pale, probably from the fact he was English (or at least that's what Grell said all the time), but there was almost no flaw to it. No scratch, no tiny scars that would wink in the light, nothing. It was as if the man had never gotten into a fight, or tripped as a child, or did anything. His black pinstripe suite was tailored to his frame, lengthening the man's body while the dark red vest and white shirt underneath commanded attention from everyone around him. His cufflinks were silver, glinting like diamonds against the candle on the table as he once again reached for his glass for a drink.
He reminded Ciel of a gangster, like the ones he'd seen a few times arguing with the Madam of the brothel. They were not a common sight, but they also commanded attention like this man did.
"Are you really a nobleman?" Ciel finally asked.
"Ah. Finally talking now, are we?" The man responded.
"Look. Answer the question and I'll answer one of yours from earlier." Ciel offered, crossing his arms over his vest and taking a drink from his own water glass.
The man chuckled. "Alright. Deal." He said before setting the water down on the table. "Yes. I am really a nobleman. I have my title papers if you wish for proof." The man said with a pinning stare and Ciel shook his head. He was just going to believe the man. "Now, your answer?"
Ciel smirked. "Yes. I am going to dodge all your questions by asking you ones about yourself." He affirmed. The man across from him smirked back and nodded.
"Fair enough. But I could make you answer, you know." The man related as he took a bite of the bread in front of him.
Ciel shrugged. "You would have already if you intended to." He said, taking the other roll from the table and eating. The man nodded.
"Caught on, have you? Good."
Ciel raised his eyebrow, but let it go. The man was not going to make him talk, but that did not mean that the threat did not still stand. When the food arrived, Ciel found himself staring at the food with wide eyes. Again given more food than he was used to, Ciel could only stare at the spread. It was less than the meal the other man had bought for him, but it was still more than what was normal, usually only living off the tips his mothers made and the sweets he bought for himself off his cons. Before him was a spread of bread, different jams and a bowl of a strange yellowish soup that was thick like a stew and filled with what looked to be chunks of a dark meat. He had never seen anything like it and was unsure if he was supposed to eat it or dip the bread in it. Looking over to the black-haired man (his name is Sebastian, right?) for cues, he only found those amused eyes and matching smirk again; again Ciel's face lit up with indignation.
His pride would not let him ask, so instead he grabbed his spoon and shoveled a piece of the meat and strangely thick broth into his mouth in defiance of the man in front of him. He instantly regretted it when his mouth felt like it was on fire. At first he thought it was because the soup was freshly cooked, but the heat spread as he breathed, back into his throat and into his nose, making his eyes water. Still refusing to let the man get the best of him, Ciel chewed the thick meat and found that some of the heat went away when the meat absorbed the fluid in his mouth. He swallowed and instantly grabbed his water, downing it quickly and sending a thick glare at the across from him. In response, the man laughed.
"What the hell was that?!" Ciel hissed.
"I see you've never had curry before. It was hugely popular in the Victorian era shortly after England conquered India. It's still a common food in England, but this is the first restaurant I've seen in France that makes it. So I guess I should have expected you've never had it." The man said and Ciel growled at him.
"Of course I've never had it." He snarled. "I hate it. It's too spicy and disgusting."
The man shook with laughter. "Alright. Alright. I admit it was probably a mean trick to order you Lamb Vindaloo on your first trip." He said and called the waiter to take it back and instead ordered something else Ciel recognized as Indian.
"I don't want curry." Ciel glowered.
"Alright. We'll make a deal. If you don't like the next curry they bring out, I'll never bother you again and you can return to your life of con-artistry and brothel-living. However, if you do like it you'll have dinner with me once every week." He put forth and Ciel considered his options.
"What of your threat?" He asked.
"Well, I was trying to leave it out of the equation, but since you seem determined to bring it up, it still stands. If you fail to meet me for dinner, I guess I'll have to tell. But if you don't like the curry I'll forget I even made a threat." He offered and Ciel nodded slowly.
"Fine. Deal." He said, shaking hands with the man across from him as the waiter brought out another bowl filled with a pale yellow curry that was less bright than the one before. The meat this time was chicken, Ciel could at least recognize it easily and that gave him some confidence to eat it. Remembering how badly the one before had burned, Ciel took a much smaller amount in to his spoon and put it in his mouth carefully. The heat was still there, but far less powerful as Ciel was introduced to the actual flavor behind curry. The thick stew was more milky and smooth than the one before and the flavor of the curry behind it was incredible.
He cursed under his breath as he swallowed. He looked up at Sebastian and saw the victory there. Damn him. Ciel hissed internally. Sebastian had won.
