What makes Cecil work as a villain, for me, is the fact that he's careful when he needs to be, but he's also dangerously reckless when he needs to be. This chapter is a fine example of the latter category. I say "fine" like this somehow makes him a character to respect, but that's not really what I'm getting at.
I'm saying it takes a certain type of person to win against a Kaiba.
Cecil is that type.
.
"You're seriously pushing your luck, Normack," Kaiba said, leaning back in his chair.
"So I seem to be, sir," came the slick man's voice from the other line. Kaiba still didn't like Cecil Normack—hated his guts, in fact—but that was the whole point of redemption, wasn't it? Kaiba Seto hated everyone. He could no more trust his own opinions of people than he could trust a blind man's description of a rainbow. "I know it's late, and I know this is . . . unprecedented. He's your brother. You have every reason to be concerned. It won't happen again."
There was one thing he did appreciate about the man, though. Cecil Normack got to the point. He didn't make excuses, he didn't expect favors, and he certainly didn't expect anyone to pat him on the back for admitting when he screwed up. The very fact that he hadn't apologized for his tardiness in getting in touch with the elder Kaiba, in fact, took several strides toward making the precisely correct impression on a man who was notorious for . . . well, again, hating everyone.
"How is he behaving?" Kaiba asked.
"About as well as you might expect," Normack replied. "Pushy. Sulky. Bit of a spoiled brat." Seto's eyes widened slightly, and he leaned forward. "But then, I suppose that's to be expected. A high-stress position like the one he's in . . . well, you know, it's bound to bring about certain habits. It's not fair to hold him to an adult's standards, anyway. But you know, I do think this trip will be worthwhile. Perspective, like I said."
Kaiba scowled. ". . . Yes. I suppose. He does have a bit of an attitude problem." The irony of Kaiba Seto commenting on someone else's attitude problem was not lost on him, who knew perhaps better than anyone that his mind was almost irrevocably warped.
"Yes. He, ah . . . doesn't seem all that open to other ideas, you know. And I mean ideas that run deeper than simple aesthetic choices in a game. I mean that . . . your brother seems to have issues with accepting other people's principles. If someone's belief system doesn't match up with his own . . . well, Mokuba-sama loses all interest. He'll have a hard time adapting to the rest of the world like that."
Normack sounded pleasant enough, like he was honestly attempting to help. Which was rare, and a bit refreshing. Kaiba wondered if that was why he had accepted the man's offer of help in the first place. Kaiba had never been one to accept outside help, but he had been having trouble with reining in his brother's behavior. Kaiba forced the negative expression off of his statuesque face, leaned back, rested his elbows on the arms of his chair, and tented his fingers in front of him. He reached up, adjusted the hands-free headset tucked into his ear, and returned to his previous, contemplative position. He said, "I told you before. Just . . . call him Mokuba. That's . . . ahem. Something to work on. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Let me speak with him."
"Oh. Of course. Hold on a second—Mokuba? Mokuba! Your brother wants to . . . oh. I'm sorry, sir. Looks like he's in the shower. Should I have him call you when he's finished?"
Seto glanced at the clock. It was nearly 9 PM. ". . . No. That won't be necessary."
"And . . . sir. I hope you understand, I mean no offense. I'm just—well, it's just that Isono-sama told me that it was best to be candid with you, sir. So, you know. I just . . . well. I mean no offense."
The trademark Kaiba scowl returned.
Absolute deadpan: ". . . You'd better not."