"What is this?"

"Expenses."

Commissioner Arthur raised a busy brow, dark and un-kept (like an overgrown weed patch) at the raven-haired man that stood expectantly and smug in front of him.

"Expenses? For that building?" The man didn't answer, crimson gaze steady and burning, filled with an overflowing tint of disdain. Sir Arthur scoffed, his lips thin and chapped turned into an upward wormy grimace; like a roughly carved rotting jack-o-lantern.

"That Phantomhive brat caused this, did he?" The man clad in black flinched slightly at the mention of brat, poison thrown across his face, and his gaze darkened considerably.

"My young master did what needed to be done in his services for the Queen. Moreover, he was doing your job…" A dark Cheshire smile, a passing shiver of stale fear: "…If you have any concerns, why don't you direct these worthless questions to Her Majesty? That would surely be easier than having to deal with that young brat, wouldn't it, Commissioner?"

"Know your place, Butler! You have no right to speak to me that way!" The man smiles coldly, causing the Commissioner's insides to twist and converge in on themselves. It was such a chilling feeling, as though juicy shaggy spiders were teetering their way over his chilled flesh, making their way up his legs, neck, back, thighs…

He hated it. He hated this "butler", and he hated his "master". Wanting nothing more than to be rid of this eccentric, intimidating man in front of him, he cleared his throat nervously and nodded slightly towards the subtle pile of papers.

"I'll sign 'em." He snarled between yellowed, beer tainted teeth. The butler nodded, his demented smile widening and he gave a slight bow before turning on his heel and exiting the building. The commissioner let out a sharp exhale of breath, unknowing that he had been holding it, and turned his gaze warily to his hands. They were trembling.

He hated this feeling, he hated the Phantomhive brat, but most of all he hated his butler clad in black…

It had rained all day. The inky grey skies were spilled over with teal watercolor and the trees of the courtyards reached desperately toward salvation, long spidery fingers grasping nothing but air when they reached to grasp the sun. There was no hope for them as of late; the last of their leafy companions crumbled and shriveling fell drunkenly to the frost bitten earth.

The servants of Phantomhive had kept themselves busy by scurrying about like scared mice, breaking and re-mending porcelain vases and old nostalgic portraits. They tried their best not to bother their master with their clumsy behaviors and bashful expressions as he tucked himself in the security blanket of his study for the evening, awaiting his butler's return. The manor seemed empty and loud without the dark haired man's demanding presence…

The rain kept a steady beat, rattling against shop windows and cobblestone walkways. The chilled water washed and blended in with the smell of roasted nuts, cinnamon and sugary sweet. The thunder drowned out the strangled and calmed mannered voices as London's people carried on. The female seemed to be in quite a rush as she stumbled about, brown leather boots splashing heavily into the small pools of gathered water by the sewers. She dodged nimbly in between the engrossed crowds of muttering English men. Her short auburn hair stuck to her face like starving leeches would suckle to crisp clean flesh. Her cheeks are flushed bubble gum pink from the bitter cold, and her breath bellows out in white smoky huffs. She narrows her eyes, green and determined to stare viciously at the elegant manor that sat humbly atop the forested hill over-looking the bustling city. She clutched the picture tighter under her black wool shawl, fabric brushing prickly atop of white strained knuckles as a gust of wind moaned and howled across her squared face. She needed to get to the manor before nightfall, and sending a wary glance at the tall demeaning clock tower she shivered in worry. Not much time, no, not much time at all. Would they even let her in? She picked up her pace, apologizing as she bumped into a couple of window watchers, ducking her head to avoid the needle like stabs of frigid rain.

The red-waxed cover seal was all that Ciel Phantomhive needed. The envelope was parching white, rough slightly around the edges and still tender from the falling rain. It smelled of moss and musk and the young earl turned his attention to his butler who stood obediently in front of his dark mahogany wood desk.

"When did this arrive, Sebastian?" The child's voice was rough, yet still young, and it reminded Sebastian slightly of a kitten's growl. He smiled lightly, his dark hair black curtains sweeping across pale tinted skin as he spoke:

"This afternoon, My Lord." The boy lifted thin brows, sweeping silk felt bangs across the back of his hand as his cheek came to rest lazily in his small palm.

"So soon?" He sighed more to himself than anyone, but his butler heard and his eyes seemed to glow rubies in the light of the laughing fire.

"It must be fairly urgent, Bocchan, to have her send you another task just after you had finished her last." Ciel nodded absently, holding the letter out tiredly to Sebastian.

"Read it to me. I am not in the mood to do so myself." Sebastian's grin widened and his eyes took on a mocking sort of light. From rubies to burnt cinnamon.

"Indeed. Sitting at your desk all day must be very demanding, My Lord." He taunted, taking the ominous letter from his Lord's weak grip. The teal-haired boy shot him a glare, but didn't respond. The fire cackled and spewed on its tarred embers restlessly, and the shadows of the flames danced a slow waltz on the forest colored walls of the study. The rain let out an upbeat song to accompany the waltz as Sebastian swiftly opened and read the letter. Soon he turned his sparkling gaze to the impatient blue one before him.

"My, my, Bocchan! You may have a long night ahead of you." Ciel cocked his head to the left, silently urging his butler to continue. In the light of the fire he looked demonic, fire flares casting shadows on his egg-white skin. Ciel laughed inwardly at his assumption. How very ironic.

"Another murder case it seems. The victims this time have no outward signs of any disturbance."

Ciel's eyes narrowed slightly and he sighed in annoyance.

"Whatever do you mean by that, Sebastian? If there are no problems bestowed upon these "victims" than I really mustn't waste my time to-"

"Oh, of course, sir. But would you like me to continue, or are you to tired?" His grin grew wider, more menacing. Snow-white teeth flashed beautifully behind glossy full lips.

"Hurry up, Sebastian. My patience is wearing thin today."

"The victims were young girls and boys, just reaching the peak of youth. They had their left livers removed without any surgical procedures. They didn't even wake." The smile widened, tongue hidden slightly behind gleaming fangs. Ciel's eye burned a lovely cobalt blue, demanding attention from cooked cinnamon.

"This sounds interesting, doesn't it Sebastian?" Garnet eyes clashed with a wide blue one, each burning into the depths of each other. Garnet always seemed to win.

"Indeed it does, My Lord." Ciel felt a grin of his own stretch slowly across his features, and he met his butler with a rather intimidating smug stare.

"Tell me. Is this "perpetrator" human?" Sebastian's eyes flashed.

"Always the clever one, aren't you, Bocchan?"

"I'll take it I'm correct?"

"Would you like to investigate, My Lord?"

"I suppose. Ready a carriage, let's get this over with." A white-gloved hand pressed sincerely against a chest of a dark pressed swallowtail suit, marking his answer to be true.

"Yes, My Lord."

"Mr. Sebastian! Oh! Mr. Sebastian!" A rough female voice echoed around the foyer of the main hall, and Sebastian and Ciel turned their heads, exasperated, in the direction. Sebastian sighed, and flashed his master a weary half laden smile.

"If you would excuse me, young master." Ciel waved him off and Sebastian glided gracefully across the study to the door, before bowing slightly and slipping out into the hallway.

After closing the oak doors, he turned, and glared irritated at the red-haired maid. Her glasses, always to big for her slender nose, were cracked slightly around the rim, like a small willowy spider's web. When she spotted Sebastian, a light blush flittered across her face and she quickly found that the nearby staircase was far more interesting than the quickly approaching butler.

"Mey-rin, how many times have I told you not to yell inside the manor?" His voice was calm and cool, yet it held a rather nasty edge to it.

"I-I'm s-sorry, yes! But there was someone at the door who requested the Young Master's assistance and I-"

"At the door?"

"Oh! Um, yes?"

"Where are they now?"

"They are still outside, s-sir!" Sebastian groaned inwardly.

"Mey-rin, is that anyway to treat a guest?" Her face got ten shades redder from the growing embarrassment, and Sebastian decided to ignore her as he made his way to the door. Pulling it open, the gold handle cool on his gloved hands, he saw a young woman, soaked thoroughly and panting slightly, receding on their front step.

"May I help you?" Sebastian asked, startling the woman slightly and she turned, her eyes wide and unconditionally relieved.

"I am so sorry to come here so late! I-I was wondering if the Earl of Phantomhive could help me?" Sebastian cocked a slender black brow, and his smile slowly faded. Her eyes sparkled in the light of the moon.

"Help you with what?"

Ciel's gaze never left the woman, who had seated herself at the very edge of her seat, the plush cushions dipping downward slightly under the added weight. She was soaking, and even provided with a blanket and a hot cup of Earl Grey, she still trembled, her frail bony hands knotting themselves up in the blankets added warmth. Ciel turned his gaze to the picture that lay on his desk, wrinkled and wet, yet still clear. Sebastian stood by the hearth, the flames straining upward to kiss the hem of his coat as he watched the woman with regarded silence. Ciel was very irritated by her arrival, and his head had just begun to throb when he realized sleep was not an option tonight. The woman kept her eyes trained downward, like a bashful rabbit or cautious deer.

"Who is this?" Ciel demanded, his voice seeming very loud in the spacious softness of the room. The woman turned her head upwards, lashes sticking together due to the rain, and she licked her lips nervously, catching sight of the photograph in the young earl's hand.

"M-my son, sir."

"You say he's missing?" The woman nodded, her eyes wide and unsure. Sebastian couldn't help but grin at her unease.

"Why did you come here? Why not go to Scotland Yard?"

The woman turned her attention to her knees, studying the wrinkles in the green clothes of her skirts.

"I- I did. They've been trying to find him for weeks, but-"

"No leads?" Groaning Ciel turned his attention to his butler, whose eyes seemed to be following the rain outside.

"Sebastian." At the mention of his name the man in question turned his head, eyes rolling (almost lazily) downward to stare patiently at his master. "Do you suppose this connects to the case we received today?" Sebastian's eyes gleamed, laughing quietly as he turned to stare at the woman again. When she looked up toward him expectantly she noticed the tint in his eyes and quickly turned away, blushing ever so slightly.

"I doubt it, Bocchan. Unless…" He strode forward toward the woman, Ciel's eye following his every move, until he came to stop at a respectful distance away from the coy woman.

"Ma'am?" He whispered, voice smooth as spun silk and rich as bitter cocoa caused the woman to stare at him cheeks flushing fiercely. "How was your son's behavior before he was missing?" The woman blinked, and turned to stare at the young Earl who was gazing at her expectantly.

"H-He often stared into space. The night before he disappeared he complained about someone outside his window, though there was no one there. I didn't ask him to much questions about his change in behavior because I didn't want to upset him." Sebastian smiled softly, his eyes smoothing out to a rich strawberry red as he stood up straight again.

"Do you have what you need, My Lord?" Ciel closed his eyes and rose from behind his desk, striding over to stand in front of it instead.

"Yes. Sebastian, arrange for a carriage to escort her home. What did you say your name was?" Ciel questioned, turning to stare at the now standing woman.

"Oh! Forgive me; I should have introduced myself sooner! It's Rebecca Scaffold, please do pardon my interruption of your evening!" She gave a rather awkward curtsy, feet pigeon toed and pointing inward, covered unfashionably by clunky brown boots. Ciel gave a slight nod and caught Sebastian's stare. His eyes were bemused, yet hard, as though he was torn between finding this whole situation amusing or angering. Either way, he noticed his master's silent order and escorted Rebecca out into the main hallway, calling upon Tanaka to arrange a carriage (the other three servants could not handle that task). The auburn haired woman stepped into the dark stagecoach and she turned her gaze to Sebastian, who stood, rather irritated in the rain. She felt a smile grace her lips as she reached a pale hand out the carriage window, and delicately allowed her fingertips to kiss Sebastian's water dropped cheek. He didn't flinch, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

"It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian." And her voice was cold and rough, no longer baby sweet and innocent. Her eyes gleamed eerily in the night. The carriage started forward, her fingers slowly, sensually, leaving his skin as she stared on.

"He is such a nice young soul, akuma." At this she smiled, leaning slightly out the carriage window as to better see Sebastian's now receding form. "I would watch over him. I hear you have another hungry imp on your hands." Sebastian watched heatedly as the carriage rode of into the night, his cheek stinging from where it had touched him. He had his suspicions before, but never had he thought that her kind would come all the way to London. But…he smiled slightly at her ignorance and turned to glance up at his master's study window, they now had a rather obvious suspect…her so-called son.