"Speech."
"Discorso in un'altra lingua."
"Speech understood by the speaker, or native speech."
'Thoughts.'
'Reading.'
(Memory.)
Words spoken with emphasis.
enjoy.
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cop a mouse = black eye, colour and size of a mouse
That Assassin, Inquisitive
(-)
"...in a couple weeks it should dissolve naturally, if it doesn't. Come see me again and I'll clear it out for you." The doctor had a kind face, wrinkles from days of countless stress servicing and caring for the citizens of Southwark. Jacob only tried to shoot him an appreciative smile all the while, the suturing on his forehead finally being clipped and sealed shut. "I'd advise you to not get into a scrap again but," His eyes glanced quickly to the gauntleted hand, fresh blood stained the metal knuckles. Telling of his hesitance to call him outright for what he'd done.
Chuckling, Jacob slightly raised the brow opposite his left, careful not to put too much tension in the healing wound. "I'll try not to cop another mouser, Doctor. If that's what you're implying." The sawbones pulled away, dabbing a cloth in a small bowl of alcohol and blood before wiping away again at his cuts a final time. "So, how much for the treatment?"
The doctor looked to the door of his practice, a thug lay on the ground wearing little else than a simple worker's jacket and a scrappy pair of trousers, his friends blocking the entrance in equal states of unconsciousness. "Well..." he began, uncertain of charging the man would earn his ire or fire. Though he was yet unsure of how to gauge the gigglemug's intentions, the bearded Doctor came around to deciding to follow up on the original payment for his services, the local gang's tax notwithstanding. "A hundred quid and ten crowns."
A dry gulp passed, and so did the Doctor shut his eyes and turn away, nervous hands reaching inside his coat to pull a folded handkerchief out in an attempt to steady his nerves and dry the sweat beginning to drip from his brow. "Doctor... Sun, wasn't it?" Asked his most recent client, the sound of paper flipping behind him gave him some semblance of calm. He didn't even hear the man walk to the door, but upon hearing him heave the body of the yet sleeping man did he finally return his attention to the strange man.
"Here, and and there's a tad more for the mess." An awfully heavy coin purse the size of his fist was thrown at the chair, and when Doctor Sun looked back. All he saw was the now vacant door and one that seemed a little less obstructed now.
(-)
Perspective Change
Ciel Phantomhive, Queen's Watchdog
After his butler set down an aptly prepared meal, Ciel noted that beside his tea was a letter still sealed. But the forefront was signed in a manner he'd certainly grown familiar with after his return. "Sebastian," Ciel began, the butler's head raising a fraction after being mentioned. "When did Lau arrive?"
Sebastian was occupied for a moment, spreading the curtains wide to let the sun in but refraining from opening the windows. It was that season after all where pollen allergies ran most rampant, and what kind of butler would he be if he subjected his Master to a severe case of the sniffles? "He didn't actually, instead it appears he sent a messenger along. A spry young man who claimed to have rode in from the city, though it's within my understanding that he wasn't being entirely truthful."
Upon hearing Sebastian's words, the young Earl had a taste of the tea. It was quite strong and full-bodied with a bitter aroma and a sweet after taste. Not entirely unpleasant, but not at all catering to his tastes- far too bitter on second thought. "Sebastian, this Assam… where did you get it from?"
"Assam, a gift from Prince S-"
"Unless it's from Agni, I suggest you leave it for Finnian to use as compost." Ciel cut through in a dismissive tone before reaching for the letter in question, he regarded the cup with a disdainful eye. "I'll find it more likely that he bought it from a street-peddler, his faith in his fellow man really is too much." Hidden beneath his bangs did Ciel raise an eyebrow at the lack of resistance, a weak adhesive or a poor attempt at re-sealing?
That set off a bell in his head that something was afoot, Ciel watched the butler's back as he retreated from the table after clearing the tea which had offended him so. No doubt if the contents were at all poisoned or due to put his life at harm, then his would have read the contents of the letter first before destroying it.
That was just the kind of aesthetic that he heeded to.
Opening the letter to read its contents within, Ciel pierced the cold cut of bacon - idly eating as he read the report. Pushing the concerns of who else took to reading this message out of mind for later, more likely it could be attributed to Lau's lax nature in handling his correspondence but again that was not the focus.
'My Lord,' Said the opening salutation, written in penmanship; so sharp and precise, a surprise to anyone who'd not been penpals with Lau not long after his estate was rebuilt. Irritation creased across Ciel's forehead at the mention of the honorific, another of his patience thinning, teases clearly.
A thumb full of space between itself and the body of text beneath, 'I do wish that this letter finds you in pleasant health, if ever you feel aching pains. Don't hesitate to reach out for me. It appears that the Italian gardeners have, despite your past disagreements, and polite warnings; chosen to plant an invasive species into London soil.' Ciel rolled his eyes at the man's flowery speech, understanding the precaution but really must he be so cheesy. Invasive or a threat to his own business, clearly that sly man sees this as a potential impact on his own revenue?
At the very least, Ciel could expect that Lau was acting purely in his own interests by reporting this information. Such news would have reached him inevitably given the Phantomhive's web of influence which spanned across London, given the size of the letter the young Earl could tell that Lau actually had information to report and likely expected something beneficial in return. No matter how flowery he may have made their friendship be, it was always a matter of business.
'Their exact method of import is yet unknown to me, evidence however has been uncovered by yours truly. A train wagon an hour late arriving at King's Cross station was in the papers recently, though I suspect that they may have been in leagues with the railroad authorities - might I suggest speaking to an acquaintance in the industry?' Suggesting that the goods- drugs he'd deducted, had come through by dubious means of bribing local officials and have an existing presence if the amount massed to the point of needing a train to begin with.
After all Lau seemed to consider that business a possible threat and rival, gunrunning wasn't exactly his specialty but not ruled out. But as the slippery python himself said, he dealt in dreams. The newspaper that he'd written of was merely sitting in the rays of sunshine, "Sebastian, how does my schedule look today?"
His butler, ever omnipresent returned to his master's table with a freshly laundered change of clothes. Formal attire with a familiar mauve coat, matched with a double breasted vest striped with thin white threads. Meaning that he was due a visit into town, "By nine you are expected by the Baron's uncle to make an appearance for Funtom's outreach in a rural community nearby. The rest of your day past that is open for you to decide," Sebastian cocked his head before kneeling to set down his clothes and spoke with a self-certain initiative, hiding any grievances held towards his master masterfully - only the odd twitch of his finger behind his waist giving anything away. "Shall I make preparations for a trip into town?"
"Make it quick," Answered Ciel, immediately making a move on his morning breakfast. Spiking a sausage with the fork, his butler already halfway across the lawn on a tight schedule.