Eleanora arrived at eight, just as she had promised. Sebastian was relieved to see her; for a moment, he thought that she had decided to run away and he would have had to go out and find her.
She was dressed in a tattered black dress with a thin black shawl draped over her shoulders. Her shoes didn't match, had holes, and were clearly several sizes too small for her. She had let her hair down, so it fell to the small of her back in soft curls.
Ciel stepped forward.
"Hello," he called out as she approached. "It's nice to see you again."
"Likewise," she said quietly. She didn't seem to have the energy to be sarcastic—just tired.
Eleanora bit back a whimper. She had had to change her clothes for this fool's mission, which resulted in her jolting her left arm around, and it still hurt. But never mind that; the faster she got this done, the faster she could go home.
"Why don't you go and get ready and then we can leave."
Ciel blinked at her.
"…But we are ready. See? I changed my clothes."
He was wearing some patched-up pants, a shirt that was too big for him, a brown vest, a newsboy's cap, and instead of the usual black eyepatch, he had a white one with four strings.
"…What the hell are you supposed to be? Oliver Twist?"
"What? You don't like it?"
"It's cute for Halloween, but you wouldn't last ten seconds in the East End."
"Why not?"
"Because you look too good! You think that all the kids in the East End wander around in fancy boots like that? Go back and see if you can find something more…tattered. Something that clearly wasn't made for you."
Ciel obediently ran back to the manor, anxious to get the show on the road, leaving Sebastian and Eleanora alone outside.
They just stood there in silence, Eleanora staring out into space, Sebastian thinking of something to say.
"…Eleanora?" he finally said.
"Don't call me that," she said coldly. "You've lost the privilege of calling me 'Eleanora.'"
"Miss Black, then," Sebastian said. "Did you…get the briefcase?"
"I got it."
"Have you been using it?"
"No."
"…Did you use it tonight?"
"…No."
"…I imagine that you're in quite a lot of pain, then," Sebastian said icily. "Wait here."
He went back into the manor and came out a minute later with a syringe.
"Give me your arm—the left one."
Eleanora winced but held her arm out anyway. She screamed when he took it and screamed even louder when he injected it. But her arm went numb within seconds, and she didn't feel any side-effects, so perhaps it was necessary. After all, she couldn't go around screaming in the East End when people would bump into her—which they undoubtedly would do.
"Thank you," she mumbled, pulling her sleeve down so that the pentagram was hidden.
Silence resumed.
"…Did you get the note?" he finally asked.
"I got it."
"Did you read it?"
"Read it."
"All of it?"
"Yes."
"Even the bottom part?" he said softly.
She scoffed.
"Because I meant it, you know."
"I'm sure that you did."
"I'm serious."
"I'm sure."
"Miss Black," he said seriously, "I never intended on hurting you. I just wanted you to sign."
"What—you're that desperate to lose your virginity that you would force a woman—who you just met and barely know—to marry you? That's just sick."
Sebastian was about to reply but the young Master was returning.
"I didn't find anything," he panted. "This is the best that we can do!"
"Great," Eleanora sighed and looked at them both. The butler hadn't changed at all—he still wore his black overcoat and butler suit. The Earl looked a touch better, but not quite. He still looked like a kid going to a costume party. She knelt down in front of him and felt his shirt. It was made out of high-quality material. She sighed again. This would be fun.
"Firstly," she said, "take those shoes off."
"But if I take my shoes off, how will I walk?"
"Using your feet, of course. Take them off."
The butler knelt down and took his shoes and socks off. Eleanora resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Now then…"
She took the vest and the hat off and tore a strip off of his shirt.
"Hey—"
She ignored the Earl's protests and removed his eye patch, tying up his right eye with the strip. She tore off the ends of his pants so that it looked as if he was wearing torn shorts. She paused to admire her handwork—
"Ugh, you still look so clean."
She tousled his hair and began smearing dirt all over his face and his clothes, making him squirm.
"Don't wriggle; it's for your own good."
She tore some more of his clothing and frowned at him. A nobleman wouldn't have known him for a fellow aristocrat in years, but the people at the East End would be instantly suspicious of his perfect white skin, devoid of any cuts or scars, and his upright posture and fancy talk.
"Slouch," she ordered. "Skulk, don't walk. Shuffle your feet. And talk as crudely as possible."
Ciel tried and Eleanora couldn't hold back her eye-roll.
"Now you," she said, turning to the butler. "Shed as many layers as possible."
Sebastian winced but obediently removed as much as he could, including shoes and socks, leaving him wearing nothing but a white shirt and black pants.
"You don't have anything more ragged? Nothing too big, nothing too small?"
"No."
"Wonderful," she grumbled and punched him in the eye.
"WHATAREYOUDOING!" Ciel shrieked as he watched his butler fall to the ground.
"He's too perfect," she snapped. "You might pass because you're a child, but a grown man can't walk around looking like that. He'd be snapped up immediately."
"'Snapped up?' What do you mean?"
"I mean that he'll be kidnapped and drugged and shipped out to some godforsaken whorehouse to be some bitch's pleasure slave for all eternity."
Sebastian licked his lips. "Pleasure slave." How come he didn't have one? It sounded positively delightful—He glanced at Eleanora and decided not to say anything; she probably wouldn't jump at the idea. Besides, they were married—there would be plenty of time for bedroom fun later.
He sighed. He couldn't think of a woman he found more repulsive. But they had a contract, and the contract must never be broken.
He pressed his hand over his eye. He had healed both of his eyes after Eleanora's attack yesterday, but they were still a little tender. But he didn't feel pain; mostly he felt anger. This had to be the third time that she had managed to hit him. He never expected any of it. He had to be prepared. A mere human beating him was despicable.
She ran her nails down his cheeks and tousled his hair. She tore his pants and ripped his shirt a bit and got him as dirty as possible. Then she reached for his gloves and he pulled back.
"What are you doing?" she said irritably. "Take those off."
"I can't."
"Why not? Are they glued to your skin or something?"
"You don't understand; I can't…"
She snatched his hands and pulled the gloves off, revealing his black nails and—worst of all—the symbol of the contract. Eleanora was unperturbed; she ripped off some more of his shirt and quickly tied the hand up so that the symbol wasn't visible.
"Take this off," she said, tapping his wedding ring.
"What? Why? I can't."
"Why not? I took mine off."
Sebastian stared at her.
"…You what?"
"I took it off."
"Why?!"
"Because if I took it into the East End it would get stolen and I hate looking at it anyway."
"You didn't…throw it away…did you?"
"Of course not."
She wouldn't toss a ring into the garbage without a good reason. Rings were good—they could be pawned for big money.
Sebastian glared at her and hesitantly removed his ring. The ring was a sign of the contract—removing the ring meant that the contract was at risk of being broken. And she had just taken it off with absolutely no respect for what it meant! He wanted to tell her that he hated her, but he couldn't in front of the young Master. That would be unprofessional.
"Alright, now try and talk for me. Be as crude and as low-class as possible."
If Ciel was bad at it, Sebastian was even worse. Eleanora pressed her hand against her forehead.
"Alright, new plan: you will not talk as much as possible," she said, pointing to the Earl, "and you," pointing to Sebastian, "will not be talking at all. Understood?"
They nodded.
"Okay, I think that we're ready. As ready as we'll ever be," she mumbled. "Now, when we're in the East End, you do as I say, and you do it immediately. Got it?" She glared at them all and they nodded and mumbled agreements.
"Alright," she sighed. "God help me; let's get this freak show on the road."