When Ciel turned onto his street, he wasn't sure what to expect.

It was still far too soon for his liking, this whole endeavor, and the promise of his new "living arrangements" did little to ease his mind. He wished that at least he would have been able to have some say in the house-hunting the prison had done for him. After all, he knew nothing about the area, nothing about the homes, the budget, the neighborhood- he was utterly clueless. And he was not one for being clueless.

He knew not what was going on in this dire situation, and it ticked him off to no end. The silence in his vehicle did nothing to enhance the experience, either.

It felt odd with nothing playing in the background after all that time. He was glad to be rid of that dreadful noise Alois called music, but it was oddly lonely, almost depressing without it. He couldn't think without it anymore. Dammit, he shook his head as his hand reached for the dial, turning the knob until it reached the radio.

The station was playing modern pop, which was probably the last thing he wanted to hear at the moment. Rock? No, he'd just gotten an earful of that, and it was more than enough to quench any desire he had to listen to more. He flipped it again. Indie. Eh, he wasn't much into what he'd heard of the song playing. Flip. Rap. Absolutely not. Flip.

Ah, a jazz station. And it was a good piece too, Ciel decided as he checked the small screen for the name of the song. Like Someone In Love, composed by Bill Evans. It was a slow song, showy and yet tender- it gave him a hint of old Charlie Brown cartoons. Very easily did it give off the emotion that it wanted to portray, soothing the detective's wiry nerves and seemingly pulling back his chair so he could settle into his carseat. He did love a good jazz composition. When done right, it could even bring a small smile to his lips, much like the one he wore now as his shoulders sunk into a proper posture. Now he was calm, no other outside thoughts daring to give him the slightest bit of anxiety. It was like they'd all been warded off by the piano's whip-of-a moan. The only thing that mattered in this moment was driving. Getting to where he needed to go without a hitch.

"Hmm... There's Cornwall... Barnaby- ah, Macabre." Ciel tended to talk to himself. He didn't have a problem with it, and neither did anyone else, really. That was because he only ever did it when he was alone, but he had an inkling that it wasn't so out of the ordinary for others to do it, too.

He turned onto the street and was greeted with large, fanciful houses made of glass and stone, big windows and slanted ceilings strewn across the horizon and making Ciel's eyes go wide. The lawns were lush and green, with shrubs and trees spattered wherever they saw fit, while the driveways that sat atop them were a light sandy marble brick, paved expertly and gracious to the touch. Come to think of it, the road Ciel was driving on had been completely smooth and black this entire time- this was a rich neighborhood.

1700, 1763, 1832... 1894, there it was. A lovely replica of the other houses, but it obviously had its own special charms. For example, the slanted glass roof was wavier than the others, just a simple slight curve, and the bluey-purple hue it carried was also a nice touch. Next to and above the garage was artfully jagged stone, the kind used regularly in modern architecture. Three stories tall, it carried several lavishly furnished rooms, the bottom floor visible from the outside. Each floor got progressively smaller from the ground up, making whole the house look as if it were shifted to left.

Palm trees and square bushes made up the yard, and they made the entire thing come full circle, the house effortlessly stylish in such a way that Ciel did not mind the geometrics of it all. In fact, he found he quite liked it. Preferred it, even, from the quaintness of his old home back in Britain. He liked this. It demanded importance and attention, just as he did, beckoning all pairs of eyes to stare at its magnificence and originality. It radiated wealth and prestige. The detective felt it suited him.

He stopped the car and opened the door, stepping foot onto the handsome pavement for the first time and sighing in relief. Thank god it's not what I expected. With that, he started for the door.

The inside was even more grandiose than the outside, modern in its extravagance and clean in its fashion. The floor was comprised of white tiles, pure white marble that Ciel could see his stately appearance in if he peered hard enough. To his left was a kitchen that hugged the corner of the wall and then some, hosting white island and silver and black and gray appliances splashed wherever they saw fit; to his right, a curved two-step staircase that led to an oval shaped floor with an unusually shaped sofa, a white fur rug, a fireplace, and a large television mounted on a monochromatic cabinet.

Perhaps his favorite feature, though, was the wall. He had taken note of a small black bar right next to the door, and the only context he was given over what it controlled was a set of buttons labelled "+" and "-". Always a curious man, he pressed the plus, and the walls were suddenly opaque. It took him by surprise- the white brick looked almost as real as the shirt on his back. He even had to check outside just to be sure he wasn't going mad- and sure enough, he couldn't see through the walls he knew were glass.

The home was certainly chic, there was no denying that. And honestly, Ciel was so glad it came furnished because he really knew nothing about interior design. The only thing he knew it needed were some personal touches- pictures to go in the deep-set shelves, his favorite throw pillows draped across the beds (wherever they were), a music player of some kind so he could always have some jazz playing in the back of his busy life- small things that would make a world of difference to him.

Ah, but right now he was too tired. Too tired to think about it, anyway. So, without much thought to look around the rest of the house, the great detective climbed onto the couch, snatched the blanket from the top of the thing and wrapped himself inside of it. This is it, he thought to himself. This is it.

With that, he was sound asleep.

~oOo~

"This is it?" Alois' eyes fell dark and gloomy as he stared at his cell, his neck slumping forward. "It looks like a bloody cage."

"That's because it is one," Abberline said matter-of-factly. "We figured a simple cell would be an inconvenience to a person of your... nature. And you would have been a danger to the inmates and staff around you. It was really the best we could offer, Mr. Trancy."

"Hmm." He wasn't necessarily satisfied with the answer he received, but he supposed it would have to do. "I suppose it would've also been a danger to send a guard that knew sentences shouldn't start with conjunctions?"

Abberline opened his mouth to protest, but he quickly shut it, a faint tint appearing on his cheeks. His eyebrows furrowed, "I- You know what I meant. I don't want to cause any trouble, now. Please just get inside."

Alois' eyes started searching the room, once again analyzing it; he knew he promised himself he wouldn't do that anymore, but he figured if he would be living here for the next four to five years he would want to know what was around him. Concrete floor, concrete brick walls, cubbies with several towels to the right, a shower outside the cell to his left, a walkway with eleven doors that circled the room from above- it was all very plain. He kept ending up in rooms he did not like and that bugged him.

It was then that he discovered something that exceeded his interest. To be frank, it made Alois scoff when he discovered it because it was such a stupid mistake, but it surely made things much easier. And they call this a maximum security prison.

Alois sauntered into his cell, smirking to himself as he passed Abberline. He went up on the balls of his feet and turned to face the man as he rustled with the keys to the enclosure. He watched him for some time, simply staring as he fumbled and cursed and tried every single key on the ring with no success.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... Urgh, what'd I-?"

Without so much as a second thought, Alois' hand reached through the bars of the cage and snatched up Abberline's collar, shoving him forward so that his head collided with the bars. The hit caused the poor man to crumple to the ground and drop the keys, leaving Alois with an apt opportunity to grab them. The proud criminal gleefully stuffed the keys in his pocket and marched right out and into the open, being careful to step over the unconscious sap in front of his cell.

He went to the cubbies, rummaging through them to see if he could find anything that would help him out. He was stressed out- he needed release.

Cloth. A soft but only mildly stretchy fabric that he would normally despise for such an activity, but it was the best he had at the moment so it would have to do. Alois tugged out what he could, finding that the textile was in a continuous stream- the more he pulled, the more came out. He realized he would have to cut it. Scissors... Ah, he could just use the keys. He drew his tool and slashed the stuff right down the middle, and when he pulled away he had a crooked-ended load of cloth.

He wondered why a prison would need so much, especially in this room, and then he remembered that they thought he was criminally insane and may need to be restrained on a whim. It was the same cloth that made up the straitjacket he wore earlier, tan and prickly but mobile enough to work for its job.

He got to work almost immediately, pausing for a moment to sever the long pants of his jumpsuit in favor of a more tight fitting, shorter suit. Securing it to the top middle bar of his cell, the piece of cloth was long enough to wrap around two times and reach just above the floor; which, thankfully, was the perfect length. Alois made absolutely sure he tied it tight- after all, if it went anywhere he would be in deep shit and he certainly didn't want that.

Yes! He was done now, and the result was simply beautiful. It almost looked like Rapunzel's hair, flowing and elegant, and Alois had no choice but to caress it and pretend he was a prince for a few fleeting moments. After all, anyone in his situation, upon seeing such great beauty, would definitely pretend

that they were a handsome prince stroking the cloth-like locks of a lovely princess.

Of course, he wouldn't really care about her. No, not even a little bit. Not when he was so infatuated with men. Just her hair. Climbing it would give him a great upper body workout.

So that was precisely what the princely Alois spent his morning doing. Climbing and flipping and winding and falling on his makeshift aerial silk from 3 AM 'til 7.

He had always found solace and relaxation in using one of these. The first time he used one, it must have been two years ago now, he remembered holding it and instinctively beginning a series of tricks and spins he didn't even know he could do- it was already muscle memory to him. It was a strange phenomenon, as he still to this day could not recall learning, but regardless, the activity helped him unwind.

He climbed and spread his legs, catching both of the cloths under one thigh and over the other, then bringing his legs together so that the fabric cradled his hips. Flipping to the side so that he was perpendicular to the ground, he took the cloth from behind him and pulled it over his head, still gripping it as he searched above him for the right piece.

Aha, he got it. With a hold on it, he pulled his body up and through the hole between the first cloth and the second so that he made himself a seat. Now securely floating in the air as if he were on a swing, he grabbed his left ankle and arched his back, falling behind him so that he was upside down. This was probably Alois' favorite stretch. He worked for a good week trying to master it, and once he did, he found that it worked almost all of his body at once- a feat he had been dying to find an exercise for.

Alois loved to stretch. He loved to "work out," he loved to exercise, he loved to be physically active in any way he possibly could- just as long as he worked up a sweat. Of course, he wasn't as muscular as one might expect him to be upon hearing this information- in fact he was quite svelte. Just barely toned all over, he hardly fit the physical disposition of a fitness junkie, but muscles weren't what mattered to him.

The fruits of his labor were not the giant arms or the meaty chest other athletes possessed, but rather the feeling he got in the moment. The sensation of pushing his body to its limit and then past that loosened him up, surprisingly. Made him feel so present and calm, connected with himself if you wanted to get spiritual about it. Stretching was a ritual to him, a sacred ritual in which he derived the utmost relaxation.

Thus, he sat there, dangling freely above the ground without a care in the world. It was peaceful.

And then Ciel clocked in for work.

A wave of predatory nature washed upon the building and everyone seemed to feel its effects. All except Alois, of course. While the prisoners Ciel passed in the halls of cells cowered in fear of the aura he emitted, while even the guards avoided his gaze because they were terrified he might eat them alive if they looked his way, Alois felt no such worry in the face of danger. He could, of course, sense the tension in the place, but he had no clue it was caused by his fearsome boy-toy. He brushed it off as someone getting hurt and continued on with his play.

The two doors separating Alois' cell from the rest of the prisoners swung open to reveal a very agitated detective, startling the poor thing on the cloth.

"Jesus! You couldn't have knocked?!" He exclaimed, sitting back up.

"There's no need for knocking, this isn't a bed and breakfast- What are you doing?!" Alois was seated properly now, high above the ground and appearing as if he were on a swing in the park.

"Well, the cameras were off, so I made an aerial silk. There was a boatload of cloth in that cubby over there, so I just snatched some up and strung it. They're quite calming, actually, they make me feel so-"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. The cameras were off?"

"Yeah, see?" He pointed up to the wall just below the balcony, where a tiny white rectangle rested sadly. "They're facing downward and there's no red dot. Not recording."

Ciel had to process this for a moment. They really forgot to turn on the cameras? In perhaps the most important cell in the entire vicinity? How could people make such a vital mistake like that?! Oh, the absolute idiocy he was going to be faced with made his blood boil hot in anger. "I- How is that even plausi- ugh," he groaned, lowering his head and rubbing his temple to ease his furrowed brow.

"Nevermind that- for now. Where is Abberline? The first thing I wake up to is a phone call saying he's gone missing after entering your cell and so I have to clock in early to investigate it. In case you haven't noticed, it wasn't really the way I wanted to start my first day."

Alois kicked out his leg and laxly gestured with his head, "In that broom closet. I knew he wasn't going to stay knocked out for long, so I figured if I stuffed him in there he wouldn't cause any trouble."

"...You locked him in a cupboard?"

"No, not a cupboard, a broom closet. You know, you really must pay better attention when someone is speaking to you. It's quite rude!"

Ciel could not take much more of this and it had only been three minutes. He grunted and pulled his keys from his pocket, searching to find the right one before starting to rustle with the lock. When he succeeded in opening the door, poor Abberline dashed out, not bothering to thank his savior as he ran for the hills.

Detective Phantomhive shut his eyes and drew in a long, deep breath. "Alois," he began sternly, straightening his back, "the fact that you found this behavior acceptable is beyond me. Even further, the fact that I'm being forced to work with you of all people. However, if we're going to be working together from now on we need to establish some ground rules. Rule number one: absolutely no more mischief." He stalked toward the blond and held out his hand. "The keys."

Alois glared, entering a stare-off with Ciel as he tried his very best to defy him. His icy cold glower proved strong and effective, but it was no match when compared to Ciel's murderous scowl- especially after he raised his brows expectantly at him. Lord, could that look make a man weak in the knees. Feeling as if he had no choice but to obey for the first time in his life, Alois reached into his pocket and gracefully placed the keys in Ciel's palm, much to the latter's satisfaction.

He wrapped his fingers around them and stuffed them into his back pocket, prompting Alois to roll his neck in annoyance and pout at his compatriot.

"And now, whatever you called this," Ciel gestured to the contraption, awarding him a winning terrified gaze from Alois.

"No! You can't! I worked so hard on it!"

"I'm sure you can't have spent more than five minutes on it," he strode inside and started trying to dismantle it, not seeming to care the other man was seated.

"But- it'll keep me in shape, make me better fit for missions and shit! You'd be doing yourself a disservice if you-"

"I don't care. Hop off. Now."

"No," Alois continued to protest, crossing his arms and looking away, "as long as I'm on it you can't do shit. If you pull it down I'll break my leg."

"Doesn't matter. You're a prisoner, I don't have to protect you."

"Don't you think it'd really suck having a crippled teammate?"

Ciel supposed that was a good point. But he was full of good points, more than Alois, of course, and so he countered, "I don't have to take you anywhere."

"Oh, trust me," he leaned forward menacingly, "You'll want to."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You forget how good of a shot I am. I'd be a viable asset in the field, especially in dangerous territory."

"You don't need your legs to shoot. And besides, you couldn't even shoot me in the casino."

"One miss out of eighty nine total shots. Don't forget how many of your police crew I sent to the hospital."

"They all wound up fine. If your shot is the only reason I should keep you around, I see no problem in letting you go."

"You were just saying how we need to establish ground rules if we're to keep working together! That's why this entire conversation is happening, and you're threatening to incapacitate me over an aerial silk! You're nothing but a bloody hypocrite, y'know that?"

Ciel thrust a cruel finger in Alois' face, his eyes going wide. "Don't you ever call me a hypocrite."

"Why, what's the-"

"I'm fucking serious. I will not let you walk all over me and treat me as your doormat. The second ground rule we need to establish is respect, and you don't have a lick of it in you. You are my assistant, and you will follow my orders, not the other way around. If you don't, I will make your meaningless life as miserable as I possibly fucking can. Is that understood?"

Alois froze. He was completely rendered silent. As he realized that his place in this world had hardly changed at all, the spark of fiery determination went out of him, his posture stiffening and eyes glossing over. He felt empty and lightheaded at the thought, his heart beating harder against his chest. Not again, not again. He lowered his head, staring helplessly at the ground and the man before him. "Yes, sir."

Alois slunk out of his position, lowering himself to the ground slowly like a zombie. He stood there for a few moments in shame before trudging over to his bed, falling on top of it and crossing his arms.

Ciel found the whole display rather dramatic, rolling his eyes at the blond. As he went back to getting the monstrosity off of his cage, he caught a glimpse of Alois' sullen expression and he was suddenly overcome with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Surely this was no way to establish a good relationship between the two of them.

What would that matter, though? He wasn't here to be his friend, no, quite the opposite. Alois was too neurotic for his own good, and he needed to be whipped into shape; Ciel would be the man to make that happen.

Ah, but now he was his companion and assistant for the next four years- he had to play nice or Alois would never listen to him. Not to mention that in every good work relationship there lies a sense of great trust. If he could not be a trustworthy person to this unsightly excuse for a criminal mastermind, what good would "whipping him into shape" do?

Ciel bit his lip as he came to his conclusion, and shook his head in disbelief at what he was thinking. The only way to get the best work and loyalty out of the blond would be to befriend him, in a work-oriented fashion of course.

He put his hands on his hips, "Ah, this- this knot. It's- ah, far too stuck for me to get it undone. I suppose I'll have to take it down later. Drat." He pursed his lips and looked back at Alois, who was now sitting up gently with a parted expression on his defeated features.

There he was, being scared and beautiful again. Ciel turned and scoffed, setting his fingers on his jaw to start brushing under his nose. "I- am, however, going to get you a new suit. You can't possibly work under me in that, you look like a right whore. I'll be back in a few minutes to tell you the case we'll be taking. Suit in tow." He started to turn and walk away, but then remembered something and he pointed straight at Alois to get his point across, "And, I'm going to turn on the cameras. Absolutely no more mischief."

Alois nodded hurriedly, assuring Ciel that he was heard loud and clear. Detective Phantomhive reciprocated with one nod and strode out, shutting the doors behind him and leaving Alois by himself again.

The man placed a hand over his heart, his expression softening as a smile spread across his face. Then the smile turned into more of a smirk and he rolled over onto his back, kicking his legs up and crossing them in the air.

"Stupid dote."