Author's Note: Warning the following chapter contains nudity and suggestive themes.

Chapter 10: Dessert 5: The Signature of a City

The apartment was filled with warm and exotic spices which tickled the nose and palate of any chef who walked by. Decked with traditional indian furniture and decor it was clear that both Agni and Soma had lived in London for a great deal of time. Burgundy eyes looked around curiously, they had a beautiful place high above the streets with a number of windows and it was open. "Please take your shoes off," said Soma sweetly as he slipped out of his slippers and began to walk through the house barefoot. Sebastian noticed the warm colors and vibrant fabrics which had been used. It made him stare in awe as he walked into a world of intense color. "I grew up in India, we moved to London when Agni decided he wanted to open a curry shop," explained Soma as he came out of the bathroom with a white box in hand.

He gestured for Sebastian to take a seat on one of the large pillows which was sitting on the floor. Sebastian had been to Bazaars and Curry houses before, however none of them were this authentic. He slowly sank to the floor and felt the plush pillow cradle him, it was far softer than he had anticipated. It provided support, and he smiled as he crossed his legs, he hadn't simply sat on a pillow in a while. Soma smiled as he watched Sebastian look around the room, "So colorful," whispered Sebastian with wonder. Lau's exhibit had been filled with vibrant colors however these were beyond that. Their lives were filled with so much warmth and light it was pleasant to simply sit there. Soma reached for the hem of Sebastian's shirt and smiled before peeling it off of the man, "Okay let's take care of these!" chirped Soma as he opened the box and pulled a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton balls. It stung slightly as he felt each plush cloud that had been dipped in the vile liquid touch his skin. He hissed with discomfort and Soma looked at him apologetically.

"Sorry Sebastian, but it needs to be cleaned," he stated, his hands continued to work as Sebastian's eyes wandered about the room. There was a beautiful golden statue of Shiva and Vishnu, the only reason he recognized it was from a small Indian place he used to go to in Paris. It was small and the food was good. The smell of familiar spices swept through the room like a welcome spring breeze, pushing the stale smell of rubbing alcohol and the metallic scent of his blood out. He smiled as he smelt coriander and lobster being added, it was a wonderful and heart warming scent. "Smells wonderful," Sebastian said slowly as a smile swept across his face. It had been a long time since he had warm food in a warm house with welcoming people. "You know, Claude did this interview once," commented Agni as he walked in with three white bowls in hand.

They were simple but told so much about how they saw food as the main part and that the plate shouldn't matter. Sebastian admired chefs like this and began to wonder both what Claude had said and why Agni didn't own his own curry shop. "Usually I don't bother reading those things, I skim them to know just what the other customers will ask or say when the book a table in advance," he confessed, "But there was this one thing he said that made total sense." Agni placed the three bowls on the table and took a seat on the other side of Sebastian, he got several gauze ready and tape.

"When a chef creates a dish, he is putting out part of his heart and soul for other to taste. His emotions and dreams are put to the test as you place his creation in your mouth," Soma continued, Sebastian was frozen he didn't think Claude had a cooking philosophy, he seemed to simply take command of the kitchen, never once did he think to ask. "When tasted you can see how the chef feels, if they are in pain or not, essentially you can taste their soul. You can taste it because it's part of their food. Ingredients are just ingredients until someone comes along and makes them into something more." Soma hummed once he said that and Sebastian felt as though he knew nothing of the Head Chef. His philosophy was different and yet, there was something familiar about it. The last line reminded him of something someone wrote on a comment card back at La Cordon Bleu after watching his demo.

He had been asked to show others how to craft a Cheesecake, which wasn't easy in France. The essential ingredient was missing, cream cheese, it took some clever improvisation on his part to find just the thing to replace the essential element. He could remember how he had used Ricotta which shocked a number of chefs. It was just as sweet and produced the same product, but different. A number of students and professors were irritated and criticized him as he crafted the desert. Sebastian could remember how they looked at him as though he had gone mad. After he had released the cake from it's spring pan, very few tried it. He was slightly depressed and simply abandoned the cake to go and wash his tools. Cheesecake filling had a habit of getting crusty and sticking to nearly everything if it sat too long. When he returned the cake was gone which few had touched. Resting in it's place was a note the size of a 7.6x12.7 cm(1) recipe card with beautiful purple ink on it. The loops of the script were small and beautiful to look at. He could only imagine what that chef's recipe cards looked like.

"Les ingrédients sont juste des ingrédients, jusqu'à ce que quelqu'un arrive et les transforme en quelque chose de plus. C'était merveilleux, ma seule suggestion est d'utiliser moins de l'Amaretto, il était trop fort pour moi. ~CF" (2)

Sebastian paused, CF the same initials as the Head Chef, he hadn't noticed before. "Soma, do you know which school he went to?" asked Sebastian after a moment. He doubted they were the same person, it could have all been coincidence, however something told him this time it wasn't. Soma looked at him and blinked in confusion, "The CIA, Culinary Institute of America, in New York," replied Agni. The raven haired chef felt his heart sank, he never did have the chance to thank that person. It was because of him that he altered the recipe and made it just a little sweeter with less of an almond taste. He sighed and looked at them, "Something wrong?" asked Soma in a panic. Sebastian chuckled and held up his hands, "Oh no, nothing, I just thought I'd heard that somewhere before, now I know it was a coincidence," he responded.

"You know cheer up, you have us!" Soma chirped with a grin. Sebastian froze and looked at the pair, he was confused he wasn't aware that there were other people who enjoyed his work. "We are rooting for you, after all you've made customers smile again! I like seeing happy people leave," Soma replied happily, it was clear this young man simply wanted others to be happy. Sebastian reached out and grabbed the bowl of curry, it was warm to the touch much like Soma's personality. Warm like the Indian sun, and vibrant like their lives. He took a spoonful of the bright orange liquid with chunks of goat in it and hummed with approval. Their spices ticked his tongue and made him feel more alive than he had in awhile. Soma had finished cleaning his wounds and Agni pulled a tin of cream out of the box. "This will help soothe the pain and make them heal cleanly," he stated. He slipped on a glove and swiped some cream out of the tin, it was cold to the touch, but numbed the pain. "Thank you, for doing this," said Sebastian as Angi swiped down one of the welts. "Not a problem," replied Agni as he pulled more cream from the tin.

"Why don't you have a curry shop?" asked Sebastian after a moment. Agni blinked and looked up at him with rather confused blue-gray eyes. He paused, it looked as though he were trying to compose what he intended to say. "Well, when I got here there were a great number of shops and I lost confidence in my skill as a chef when I tasted another's curry," replied Agni honestly, "I was famous in India, however here it was very different. They cared about presentation where I only cared about taste."

That was a common issue with chefs, many had forgotten that food used all the senses and often didn't want to recognize that. The fact that cuisine was just as visual as it was the taste was a trap which, many chefs fell into. He could remember being yelled at for going overboard and forgetting about the general taste of his dish. Some chefs focused so much on the look that they forgot about the taste. It took years to finally understand and do well in both areas.

Sebastian placed the bowl on the table and lifted his arms so Agni could wrap the tape around his chest. Soma held the gauze in place lightly as the taller of the two deftly wrapped his injury. There was one thing on his mind, and that was what he was going to make the Undertaker. He couldn't afford to be another victim of his, thrown into a casket far too early and hoisted into a grave in which no restaurant owner would touch. It had to be something unexpected, yet appealing, something sophisticated, yet warm.

~~xXx~~

The crimson flower on the linen handkerchief, it was as vibrant and painful as the person's whose eyes it belonged to. Ciel hummed as he walked through his flat, he hadn't expected this. Sebastian seemed like the perfect chef, always three steps ahead and diligently working to please him. There was too much blood on the cloth for it to be simply a cut on his finger. He hadn't seen a bandage either, which would be a tell tale sign that he had been cut. His footsteps fell anxiously as he paced, usually he wouldn't care, however Sebastian was his golden goose. If there was something wrong he needed to know about it, he couldn't' afford to lose the man who was boosting his popularity.

He continued to walk a line with the handkerchief in hand, Sebastian didn't seem like the type to lie. He had been honest that day of the interview, too honest and rather frank, which irritated Ciel. Yet, now he retreated and acted as though Ciel was going to kill him. It was unsettling to see the chef look so afraid. He wasn't a fool, he knew Sebastian was hiding something, he just couldn't figure out what.

"Ciel?" asked a soft and sweet voice, it was light and sounded like a bird singing. The slate haired young man turned to see Lizzy leaning in the doorway, she was wrapped in one of his midnight blue sheets, her hair was a mess and her emerald eyes glowed with mischief. A grin curved his lips, he knew very well that there was nothing under that silk sheet. His sapphire eyes skated over her rather large bust, trim waist and wide hips. She was the ideal woman to have hanging off his arm, sculpted, charming, and ever so beautiful. He could see those smooth, long white legs he had spread hours before through a gap in the sheet. "Yes Lizzy?" asked Ciel with a smile, he was simply in sweatpants, he didn't bother with the shirt. He had a feeling they would just take it off again. "You left the bed," she whined as she walked toward him, he stared at her delicious pale skin as she moved. He could see several hickeys that he had left in his wake. "I was thinking," he replied.

It was difficult to believe that this woman had been the flat chested, boisterous, energetic and girly, 12 year old Elizabeth. She certainly didn't look it anymore. "About?" she asked inquisitively as she tilted her head to the side and looked at him with bright emerald eyes. He took a seat on one of the arms of his chair and indicated for her to come over. "Work," he admitted, she usually got irritated with him when he thought about work. In her eyes it was all he ever thought about. "Oh," she mumbled as she looked down at him, she was just out of his reach. "Jealous?" asked Ciel smugly as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into him. Elizabeth blushed, "About?" she asked as she looked away. Ciel hummed and grinned widely, "The other woman," he said teasingly. Lizzy stiffened and sat up, the sheet fell from her body, exposing her from the waist up. "Ciel Phantomhive, that is not funny! I don't want to compete with your work!" she stated and crossed her arms.

Ciel tipped his head to the side, "Oh?" he asked as he looped his arms around her waist. "I don't, I want to be more important," she pouted. Ciel looked up at her with a grin, of course she did. He couldn't tell her that he didn't care for her the ways she desired him to, that he could never give her that. He did care, however he loved the sex which came with her. "I see," he commented as he kissed her neck, she was straddling his waist which, made this even more enjoyable. "Then show me," he whispered before crashing into her lips.

~~xXx~~

Soma and Agni had helped Sebastian a great deal, he didn't expect the pair to be so kind. He had witnessed something intimate earlier, and figured they would be angry or more guarded around him. This didn't seem to be the case, in fact they were pleasant and gentle. He felt a little guilty for thinking that they would not be, they were kind. He sighed and wondered what kindness tasted like, he could remember the Pets de Nonne from his childhood. It was a flavor he would always remember, he paused and looked in the windows of one of the shops.

"Memories, are what makes food special. Add a little magic and then you have a pastry," he whispered. He was slightly upset that he had forgotten his own view on the matter. He needed to know where the Undertaker was from, he had heard the man was ruthless however there had to be something he held near and dear to his heart. A dish which would reach his soul. The only questions that remained were, where was he from and what could he make to remind him of his roots.

Sebastian slipped his hands into his pockets, his knife bag was over his shoulder and continued to walk down the sidewalk. He was happy that Agni had grabbed his knife bag, he couldn't risk running into Claude again. That would have ended poorly, he didn't want the chef to see his wounds, he didn't want pity. The Indian had handed them to him and reached for something in his pocket, only to take his hand out again. Sebastian vaguely wondered what it was, it must have not been important for Agni to not give it to him. Otherwise, he would have had it in his hands before the knife bag. That seemed to be how he functioned, he smiled as he looked up at the sky, for once there weren't' clouds in it. He could finally see the moon.

"Now if only I could sleep," he muttered as he turned the corner and walked over to his apartment building. Ideas of what to make still jumped around in his head as he climbed the stairs, "This is going to be a long night," he whispered. Details were buzzing around in his head like flies as he attempted to figure out just what Ciel was expecting him to do. Claude's words from the interview made him understand what cuisine meant to him. Once in the apartment he looked around nervously for any sign that Angela had been there. He couldn't afford another beating it was bad enough she had injured him to the point that it was difficult to move and work. The bright red Linus Roadster leaned against the wall as he looked over the few possessions he had in his room. It was simple and hardly furnished, a stack of cookbooks rested in the corner, there were a few notebooks mixed in. His clothing had made its way to the small chest of drawers he had purchased from a thrift shop, it wasn't the prettiest thing but it served its purpose. There was just one thing he would never tuck in it, he hummed as he slowly walked over to an old steamer trunk he had used in college. It was a gift from one of the nuns, it was covered in a number of old stickers, he gently touched the yellowed emblems with the tips of his fingers.

"Sister Amalie," Sebastian whispered as he slowly touched the trunk, the only other person he ever baked for. He smiled sadly as he looked at the stickers from Cairo, Bangladesh, Hong Kong, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Berlin and other places he had never been. It was an heirloom, however the Nun couldn't have children, she was in an accident as a child, and the doctors told her she could never have one of her own. She was ordained at the age of 20 and worked at the orphanage he had been dropped off at. She was perhaps one of the sweeter memories of his childhood. The smiling ginger haired nun, she had started work at the Orphanage three days before he had arrived. He could remember the magic of her smile and rhymes, her gentle touch when she patched him up after he had fallen out of a tree.

She left the orphanage when she was 29, to take care of her sick sister, Sebastian was 15 years old. Yet another person slipped from between his fingers. Before leaving she handed Sebastian a letter, simply asking for the nuns to do two things. The first was to give him her trunk with it's contents and the second was to allow him to continue studying under the baker in town. Her trunk was perhaps one of his most precious possessions, second to the pastry tools he had gotten as a gift from the baker who taught him. He never heard from her again, and oddly he was okay with that.

Sebastian's fingers hovered over the latches before he popped them. Nestled inside were some old letters and two cookbooks he couldn't live without. Some old pages and sheets which he had scratched notes on the sides of. Resting on top was a black box with a familiar navy blue ribbon. He pulled the box and gently pulled the ribbon. Nestled in paper was the one jacket he was the proudest to own, his culinary jacket from La Cordon Bleu resting inside, it was still a pristine white with bright blue accents. He was top of his class and he admired the logo on the chest, he was going to wear it again.

He sat on the floor and looked at the school's crest and attempted to figure out what he was going to make. Seconds became hours and before he realized it the sun had risen and the moon was gone from view. He had a number of pastries in mind, yet none of them seemed like the one. He groaned and tugged on his hair until he reached in the pocket of the white chef's coat, the note was still there. He had carried with it him through college as a charm. "I think I know what to make," he whispered with a smile as he quickly got changed and slipped into the white coat, he wouldn't be able to take his bike, he would risk opening his rounds if he attempted to carry it again. Today, Sebastian was going to walk to work and think of just how he was going to do this, there were two ways to prepare the dish. One which was predictable and one which was not. Part of him wanted to ask Claude, yet he had a feeling he wouldn't listen. He wasn't a pastry chef, Sebastian was. He looked up at the sky and hummed, "The sun is out and not a cloud in the sky, I suppose I can't ask the rain to wash me away now," he muttered before continuing down the street.

~~xXx~~

The Undertaker hummed as he looked around the kitchen, "My my, Ciel I see you upgraded," he commented. His voice was harsh like nails on a chalkboard and he was decked in black. Claude looked up and stared at the man who now entered, he was fortunate to have received a good review from him. His slimming black pants made him seem taller than he really was, he had long white hair which glistened silver in the light. His bangs hid his eyes and he had rather long black nails. A black shirt covered his rather muscular body as he walked over to them, with the poise of a tiger. He chuckled as he looked at Claude and smiled broadly, "Faustus you look as though I'm going to evaluate you," he commented. His cackling irritated the Head Chef, "It's been a while," he commented.

The Undertaker sighed and straightened up, "Far too long, you still cook rather well for your age," he commented. Claude knew this was the closest thing he would ever get to a compliment. His eyes followed the row of lockets, which hung from a belt loop and ended in one of his pockets. A frayed light gray scarf hung around his neck, at a glance this man didn't seem like the Grim Reaper he was known as in the realm of the chef. However he knew better, "Thank you, it's nice to see you can still hold a pen," replied Claude acridly. Ciel shot Claude a warning glare, it was no secret Claude and the man butt heads from time to time. The man cackled with glee and looked at the chef, "Do you still have that pet spider?" he asked in an attempt to make small talk.

Claude hummed and crossed his arms, "Yes, I bought another one as well," he stated. The Undertaker hummed and nodded, "I see, you should spend more time with your kind," he commented before pulling a dog biscuit from his jacket pocket. Claude could see the brown paper which lined it and watched at the man snapped the biscuit and chewed it. The crunch echoed through the room, it was a rather unnerving sound. Claude felt a slight wave of concern he hadn't seen Sebastian come in, he could see the question in Ciel's eyes and he shook his head. He prayed for Sebastian's sake he didn't run, Ciel would kill him and the Undertaker would take it out on Ciel. It was bad enough that both Alois and Vincent had also come to see how this would go. The Undertaker was cruel and it was quite clear that Vincent wanted to see how this chef would fare.

"So where is this chef who had me served soulless food?" asked the Undertaker with glee, "Perhaps I should craft him his own coffin, so that when he falls I can bury him in it." Claude closed his eyes and silently prayed that somehow Sebastian had pulled himself together. He was about to state that Sebastian was nowhere to be found only to see a flash of white in the back of the kitchen and smell the familiar scent of fresh graham crackers. The hint of ginger and assorted spices wafted from the corner which Sebastian usually occupied. His eyes widened as he turned to see the raven haired chef standing in the pristine which jacket. His sleeves were rolled up and he wore the white hat with a blue hand around the rim. "An early start, interesting," mused the Undertaker as he walked to the back of the kitchen. His eyes never left the chef as he approached, and Claude snapped his fingers signalling Ronald to bring a chair for not only the critic but also Ciel, Alois, Vincent and himself. Thompson and company brought three stools as Ronald carried in one for the Undertaker.

The silver haired critic took a seat, his eyes were glued to Sebastian's hands as he snapped the graham crackers. "I remember you," said the Undertaker with a grin. Sebastian paused and looked up, there was a hint of shock in his eyes. "You, the one who gave me the scholarship," he whispered. The Undertaker smiled, he had assisted in funding the rest of the chef's education which meant he could be even harsher than the rest of the critics. Claude noticed a spark had returned to those burgundy eyes, "It's nice to see you again," said Sebastian with a flirtatious smile. The golden eyed chef stared in confusion, this wasn't the same man who was in his kitchen last night. He was different, confident and had a plan, now what it was concerned Claude. "How was New York?" asked Sebastian smoothly.

There was a pause as the chef went back to work on the crumbs, "Dryer, but otherwise the same. Plenty of chefs disappointing me," he remarked as he grinned manicically. Sebastian hummed and nodded before pulling two glass bowls and a spatula, Claude stared at the fresh crackers which were now cool and cold, he had no idea what this man was making and it scared him. Sebastian pulled a rather large clear bowl and a strainer before picking up a plastic tub. The Undertaker adjusted his position and his wide grin was gone as he watched the chef open the tub. Sebastian held the strainer in one hand and container in the other. He picked it up and tipped the tub, white chunky ricotta cheese fell into the strainer, and Claude watched the milky white whey fall from the fine netting of the strainer. The chunks rested inside of it as he tapped the whey out of it, Claude stared in confusion.

French cuisine didn't use ricotta, Italian did. His eyes narrowed as he watched Sebastian gracefully sift the rest of the whey out and moved the now drained ricotta into the second bowl. The Undertaker was still as he watched the chef turn on his heel and walk over to the walk in to grab a few sticks of butter. As he walked by an oven he twisted the knob to turn the oven up to temperature. His movements were smooth and elegant to watch, they all seemed vaguely familiar, dream like. "Deja Vu," Claude whispered. The Undertaker looked up curiously at Claude and then back to the chef who was grabbing a rather normal looking metal pan, with a pot for the stove and the butter.

The raven haired chef placed the pan off to the side and then set the butter on the silver scale, once the weight to his satisfaction he unwrapped the butter and slipped it into the pot. Time seemed to stop as the skilled fingers of the chef melted the butter and placed the pot on the glass cutting board beside the metal pan and a bowl of broken graham crackers. He smiled as lined the bottom and added the melted butter to the bottom of the pan. "Cheesecake?" asked Claude after a moment. His eyes widened as he watched the chef pop the now graham cracker coated pan in the oven for a moment and turned his attention to the filling. The silver whisk glistened in the light and Sebastian's eyes fluttered closed as he cradled the bowl in one hand and beat the ricotta into submission. The chunks slowly smoothed into a velvet like texture and then something which looked as smooth as silk. His technique was flawless and there was something else in the air as he gently placed the bowl on the table and began to add a hint a vanilla, egg yolks which he had separated with ease from the whites The smell of vanilla danced in the air as Sebastian worked the filling, spoonful by spoonful he sweetened the mixture with sugar until he decided it was enough.

The timer tinged in the distance summoning the chef to the other side of the room, he left the mixture and pulled the spring pan with a towel. Sebastian placed it on the counter and grabbed yet another bowl, in reality all he had to do was pour the mixture into the pan, what he was doing now was even more confusing. The Undertaker's mouth popped open to question only to close as he watched Sebastian slip a quarter of the bowl out of the larger one and place it in the small one. "I forgot something very important, well two things," he commented as he walked over to the walk in and grabbed a small glass bowl which was covered with cellophane and a carton which Claude recognized a mile away.

He felt his heart skip a beat, Sebastian did get his note, a smile curved his lips. The man was replying to him, a desert which spelled warmth. Sebastian added a touch of amaretto to the filling, the room smelled of almonds, vanilla and the sweet mixture. Ciel's eyes closed and he hummed with pleasure as he smelt the explosion of flavor. It was tantalizing, and Claude could see Vincent nearly drooling for the treat. Claude stared at the bowl which hadn't been touched, Sebastian unwrapped it and slipped the sweet-smelling liquid into the smaller bowl, cherries. He paused as the chef blended the flavors together, turning the once white base into a light red one. He looked at Claude and asked, "You wouldn't happen to have a knife would you?"

The Head Chef blinked and asked, "Why would you ask if I was carrying one?" Sebastian set the bowl down and replied, "Because you carry forks and spoons in your pockets I figured you would have a knife as well," he commented. A chuckle left Ronald, that was preposterous, he sighed and slipped his hands into his pockets to pull a golden butter knife, "Will this do?" he asked as he held it up. Sebastian nodded and chuckled, "Yup, nicely," he responded as he held his hand out for the golden implement. He flipped it in his hand so he was holding the sharp end and held the handle out to Sebastian. Slender white fingers wrapped around the other end and Sebastian flashed him a sure smile. He looked confident and comfortable. Claude released the cold metal tool and watched as Sebastian added the beautiful red colored filling to the top and used the knife to put in the swirl. He looked like a painter with a brush as he finished and slipped the pan into the oven and set a time.

"Well your skills are impressive, however I didn't plan on spending an hour waiting," commented the Undertaker gruffly. There was a pause and Claude stared, there was a glint of mischief in Sebastian's eyes as a smirk of confidence formed on his lips. His eyes danced as he walked over to the side and picked up a glass dome. He placed it on the table and lifted it to show the cake beneath it. Claude stared at him and wondered just when Sebastian had made it. Thompson walked over carrying a small stack of plates with the cutter and placed them before Sebastian. "I had a feeling you would say that," Sebastian commented. The blade dipped as he sliced in the cake, "They are identical, I made this one an hour before," he replied as he made the second cut and then popped it out of cake. The wedge was layered with crimson red squirrels and white, the crumbs stuck to the bottom and were lightly browned.

Sebastian leaned over the table and placed the slice before the Undertaker and continued slicing pieces for Vincent, Ciel, Claude and Alois.

~~xXx~~

The Undertaker stared at the wedge before him, the chef's skill was far above what he had anticipated. He had seen Sebastian when he was a child baking when he reviewed his first master's bakery. A talented youngster with wide eyes and a keen palate. He could remember when Amalie had asked him to assist in funding Sebastian's schooling. At first he was going to refuse until he tasted the dark chocolate orange spice cake he had named after the nun. There was no doubt that he would go places, however, he never expected to see the chef again and in London of all places. This time he had crafted a cheesecake, he slowly picked up a fork and cut into the tip. He had tasted failed cheesecakes even in the city which was known for them and now here was the raven haired chef who had substituted cream cheese with ricotta.

He slowly slipped the fork between his lips and paused, the ricotta gave it a slightly different texture, however it wasn't regrettable, it helped the amaretto. The taste of tart graham crackers and almonds danced on his tongue. Cherries brightened the taste and pulled the nuttiness out of the subtle sweetness of the ricotta. He hummed as he slowly chewed, it was as though he were a child again in Little Italy, down in New York City. The smell of the bakeries and the taste of their rustic charm, and yet there was this undisputable french flare, the cherries were clearly filled with French influence since they had been pureed and mixed into the filling and not as a jelly.

The Undertaker slipped out of his lips and looked at the cake tenderly, he hastily took another bite and purred. His pen was still in his pocket and the page was blank as he dug in, the texture was fluffy and light and there was this indisputable warmth, kindness and love. Three things which had been missing from Amalie yet in this cheesecake. He looked out of the corner of his eyes and watched the warm smile on Claude's lips, it was small but there. He hadn't even taken a bite and yet he looked at it as though it were a fond memory.

The Undertaker finished the piece and looked at Sebastian who was waiting patiently for judgement. He swept his bangs up and smiled, his green eyes looked at the chef and the scar which had split his face from a car accident was far more pronounced. He knew his face frightened many, yet he had to look at the chef before him clearly. To take in the image of the man he had become, "Thank you," said the Undertaker honestly, "Thank you for the wonderful treat." He rose from his seat and looked at the chef, and then to Ciel and Vincent. "You have a wonderful Pâtissier, don't let him go," he stated. Vincent had finished the wedge and Ciel was licking his fork happily. The pair nodded enthusiastically before Vincent placed the plate on the counter and commented, "Allow me to walk out an old friend." The Undertaker smiled and followed Vincent out of the kitchen.

~~xXx~~

"So good! You're amazing Sebastian!" chirped Alois, "This would go so well with a Baileys cocktail!" Claude hummed as he took another bite, the Amaretto was a nice accent to the cherry and seemed to tie all the flavors together, complimenting them and teasing them. "You know what, I think this should be a regular thing," said Alois happily. Ciel blinked and stared at Alois, this was when everyone in the room knew that food wasn't really Alois' thing. Claude sighed and rubbed his temples, he had tried for years to explain that Cheesecakes go to New York and that there is an Italian version. "It's Italian, it wouldn't be right to serve it in a French restaurant," commented Ciel. Alois crossed his arms and sighed, "I know that, but it was good," he remarked, he was rather cross.

Sebastian smiled a little as he began to scrape the bowl and went to begin washing his utensils. "Wait, isn't cheesecake made with cream cheese?" asked Alois. There was a pause, it was as though Alois' brain had finally turned on, and everyone stared at him open-mouthed. "What?" he asked curiously and shrugged, "Why do people always look at me when I ask things like that?" Sebastian shook his head that smug and delighted grin had returned, as did the playful gleam in them. It was comforting to see had returned.

"Usually it is made with cream cheese, Philadelphia Cream Cheese to be exact according to Americans. However, the essential ingredient, cream cheese isn't made in France," Sebastian explained as he began to soak the mixing bowl, "Ironically it is one of the only cheese the French don't make, so a substitute is in order to get the filling close enough to a traditional New York Style Cheese Cake." Claude noticed how Alois actually looked interest for once, he could never get Alois interested in real food, then again he usually screamed at him. The fact that Sebastian wasn't calling him a moron every three seconds like Claude did was probably what sparked the interest. His golden eyes shifted to Ciel, even he looked interested. "So we use Ricotta which has a similar fat content, the only thing that you have to make sure you do is strain the whey," commented Sebastian as he lifted the bow of the murky liquid and carried it over to the sink.

"Whey?" asked Ciel after a moment, he didn't know the term, then again he also didn't venture into the kitchen often. It was rather ironic since he owned the place. "The liquid I strained out is called whey, it's filled with fats and salts from the maturing process," Sebastian explained. There was a hint of finality in his reply which was more than enough of a cue for the two to get up and go back to the front of the house.

~~xXx~~

Agni sifted through his pockets looking for his punch card only to find the note from Claude. He slowly unfolded it and sighed. He wanted to know what it said, it had been written in both French and Claude's hand writing. Agni didn't want Sebastian to be near Claude, not after what had happened with Ash, the previous pastry chef, before this. For both Sebastian and Claude's sake. He looked at the tight script as he typed it into a translator.

"Les ingrédients sont juste des ingrédients, jusqu'à ce qu'ils soient combinés par quelqu'un en quelque chose de plus. Souvenirs, la passion, et une touche de magie est tout ce qu'il faut pour élaborer un vrai régal. Bonne chance. ~ CF"

Agni was about to hit translate when he decided he wanted to know what the original sounded like, even if it was broken and synthetic . He pressed the speaker in the corner and the sound erupted in the room, he had no idea what the words meant but they sounded so passionate, beautiful and tender, even in a synthetic and cold voice. He pressed the translate button and stared at the screen.

"Ingredients are just ingredients, until they are combined by someone into something more. Memories, passion, and a touch of magic is all it takes to craft a wonderful treat. Good luck. ~CF"

He read the note aloud, it sounded beautiful, even in English. Claude had used the same line from the interview, the one which Sebastian recognized, part of him began to wonder just what was going on between the Head Chef and the Pastry Chef. There was no way it was a coincidence, even if Sebastian thought it was. Soma knocked on his office door and commented, "Agni! Sebastian just made an amazing cheese cake! Come and try a piece!" Blue eyes looked up as he closed the window and shoved the note in his desk, "Sounds great!" he replied enthusiastically. The note could stay there until he spoke to Claude and figured out what was going on. Ciel may have been the owner, but if there was something going on between Sebastian and Claude, it could cause friction. Which would reflect poorly on him.

Translations:

1.) The metric measurements of a 5x7 inch index card.

2.) "Ingredients are just ingredients, until someone comes along and turns them into something more. It was wonderful, my only suggestion is to use less of the Amaretto, it was a too strong for me. ~CF"

Please note that the other paragraph is directly translated in the story and isn't here because of this. I hope I didn't confuse you.