Alfred tucked his master into bed and left him to sleep off his injury. As he shut the door to leave, he was greeted by Ivan. His mauve eyes surveying his every move from across the hall. The capricious man was smiling, but, there was no kindness behind it. Jones was sure of that.

"You pissed at me?" Alfred inquired. "Or, what?"

"How is he?"

His speech was brimming with mockery.

"Fine. " Said Jones, aggravated. "He's asleep, don't bother him."

"How wonderful. You really do make an admirable pet." Ivan said, in attempt to provoke. "A proper dog you are, bravo."

"Listen up, prick." Growled Alfred, aggressively. He jerked Braginski by his collar. "Don't even think for a moment I am afraid to punch you, cripple."

"Your breath is rancid. I suggest you get yourself out of my face." Warned Ivan, he was beaming. "I rather not have to hurt you."

"Oh, really?" Jones laughed and yanked him down the hall to their bedroom. He shoved him inside, uncaring, when the man fell into the dresser. "Come on. You and me, right now."

The door was slammed shut. Alfred threw his jacket onto the desk. Paper and writing utensils scattered cross the room as he rolled his sleeves up hastily. Backed against the wardrobe, Braginski chuckled.

"Damn you!" Bellowed the young American hurling a fist at Ivan's head.

With balletic precision the elder man evaded the attack with ease. His leg swept under his challenger's feet and sent him plummeting to the ground. Glaring furiously, Alfred wrenched Ivan down with him. He pinned his adversary down, immobilizing him.

"Your footwork is terribly sad."

"Stop badgering me." Demanded Jones, snatching Braginski by the hair. "Are you trying to make me hate you?"

Ivan's smile dissipated. He stared up at Alfred. His glasses were askew and sliding off the bridge of the nose.

"Do you? That would explain much. I trust you with all my heart, but, yet, you lie to my face. Then, you become friendly with the man who purchased us, making promises to keep more from me."

With a long sigh, Alfred rested his forehead onto Ivan's.

"I don't hate you and you come before him, okay?" He grumbled. "Asshole. Don't make me say weird stuff."

Jones climbed off the large man and helped him stand. Both their cheeks were flushed, unable to look directly at one another. After a few moments of awkward silence, Alfred began to clean up the mess he had made. He gathered the papers and placed them back onto the desk moving his coat to the chair.

"I spoke with the Queen." Said Ivan, sitting on his mattress.

"The Queen? She talked to you?"

"Da. She seemed to take an interest in me, I do not be knowing why." Braginski explained. "She was uninjured in the attack. One of her soulless bodyguards was struck by a bullet and the assassin was killed. His companion, however, escaped fatally wounded. The authorities are searching for him, but, have no leads." He said, looking at Alfred skeptically.

Sitting next to him, Jones, clicked his tongue. It took him a second to reply to what was said.

"I-It was Arthur, the guy who got away." He whispered.

"I see." Snickered the Russian, resting against his comrade. "I am so glad to hear truth, I wish I could embrace you."

Alfred laughed.

"You already knew that, didn't you?"

"Da." Ivan smirked. "You confirmed my assumption."

The doorbell chimed through the house. Toby was first to answer. Two men dressed in white stood outside. Both had mauve eyes and had the royal seal tattooed on their person.

"Mein gott, a child." The brunette said, crossing his arms. He had a distinct beauty mark at the corner of his mouth."Williams, deal with this. You are better in these situations."

"H-hello there, my name is Matthew Williams." Spoke the other. His light wavy hair was pulled back tight. A curl had managed to slip out and settled over the tattoo on his cheek. "Is your father home?"

The boy inhaled deeply.

"KIRKLAND! Some git named Willard is at the door! Get your drunken ass out here, you wanker!" Toby yelled through the house at the top of his lungs.

A hand rested on the youth's shoulder, pulling him back.

"Can we help you?" Alfred asked, standing in front of the young master protectively. Braginski stood at his side.

"Good afternoon. My name ist Roderich Edelstein und dies ist Matthew Williams." Introduced the dark haired gentleman. "We are der Majesty's royal escorts und have a message for Master Arthur Kirkland."

"Unfortunately, our master has fallen ill." Spoke Braginski. "He is resting, I apologize on his behalf."

"That is a shame." The one called Matthew said, frowning. "Our Queen was hoping to have him attend her ball this evening."

"Who is at the door?" Said Kirkland, shoving the Russian out of the way.

Alfred looked at him in surprise. He was fully dressed and appeared perfectly fine.

"Ah, Master Arthur Kirkland, nice zu see you are feeling better. I am Roderich Edelste-"

"I know who you are." The Englishman interrupted. "What business do you have here?"

"The Royal Ball is this evening. The Queen has cordially invited you to attend." Williams said. He held out a small blue envelope containing an invitation. "Your son and servants are also welcome to come."

Arthur took the invite hastily.

"Thank you. Tell Her Royal Highness, we will be attending."

"Exzellent." Roderich said, nodding his head. "Danke für your time. Our Freifrau will be very pleased. Auf Wiedersehen."

He began to walk down the steps to the vehicle parked in the drive.

"I met your great grandfather long ago. Y-you, eh, look just like him." Said Matthew, he spoke nervously. "I am a fan of his research on the Soulless gene."

"My great grandfather was a fool. Soulless are abominations, the gene should be wiped from the face of the Earth, not understood or sympathized with." Kirkland said coldly. "You were the one that was shot today, am I right? It truly is a shame the bullet missed your heart."

The man took a step back, a hand clasping over his shoulder.

"Matthew, come, we must nicht keep the Queen waiting!" Called Roderich.

"I-I must be going now." Matthew bowed and took his leave.