The two men had come to ask the Earl of Phantomhive to host a party for someone…Someone important…and foreign…And that was all Eleanora could remember. She wasn't one for names. Or people. Or really anything that she thought didn't matter. Which was almost everything.

They didn't have much time to get ready, and soon the date of the party had arrived. Eleanora stood in the corner, as usual, watching all of the guests drink wine and chat about their fancy rich-people problems. There was a soft rumble of thunder outside and she looked out the nearest window. Oh, it was raining. Well, that was nice. She always liked rain.

The butler finished walking around the room and stood by her, blending in the shadows easily, as if he was half-shadow himself.

"Some party," he said.

"I thought it turned out well," she said.

"So far," he said, looking around at all the guests. "Some of them…" He trailed off and shook his head, as if shaking off a bad omen.

"What—you don't like some of them?"

He turned to look at her, a deep, serious expression in his eyes.

"Have you ever gotten the feeling that someone is a very bad person?"

"Certainly."

"Like who?"

"Like you!"

She snickered at her joke and Sebastian's intense look changed to one of exasperation.

"Can you ever take anything seriously?"

"Not if I can help it." She smirked at him. "Life's too short, so you might as well be sarcastic."

"Such words of wisdom! I must remember to write them down."

"Ouch," she said and nudged him playfully. "You're quite the sassy one yourself, aren't you?"

"I've always preferred 'witty,'" he said and smirked back at her. Then he seemed to notice that something was wrong with his precious party and he walked off, leaving her alone again.

She leaned against the wall, mulling over his words. "The feeling that someone is a very bad person?" Well, there was the butler, naturally; she realized that she could never trust him; but who else? There was some weedy looking man sitting on a chair across from her; he looked like a wallflower; nothing dangerous. There were two rich-looking people; theatre persons, she assumed. There was a loud guy and a nervous guy and a big German man and two Asians and that Queen's butler—what was his name again? Chuckie or something. No, Charles. She frowned at the glutton with a sword—she didn't trust him at all. There was something about him that really irked her…She couldn't put her finger on it, but thinking about him made her wonder if, given the choice, would she rather trust him or the Phantomhive butler? This was an unusual thought and she was just about to explore it further when the big German man suddenly noticed her.

"Hellooooo," he slurred, leaning in. "What'ssss your name, pretty *hic!* one?"

"Shit," she thought and curtseyed, trying to smile.

"Forgive me, my Lord; there is a matter that I must attend to," she said in a light tone and tried to scoot away from him, preferably heading for the kitchen. She knew all about men, especially drunken bastards like his type, and she knew that the best thing for her was to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible. But this man wasn't one to take "no" for an answer, because he leaned against the wall, preventing her escape route.

"Ohhh, don't be like that," he said, grinning sleazily at her. "Such a pretty body…Surely someone of your type can't resist a maaan?" He stretched his hand out and squeezed her left breast. Eleanora controlled herself and stepped away from him.

"I must go," she said and turned away. He grabbed her wrist and tried to pull her back.

"Come onnnn, don't be like thaaat; surely you doon't meeeean thaaat?"

"Don't disgrace the Phantomhives; don't disgrace the Phantomhives…" she thought, only she really couldn't think of a way out of this situation aside from slapping him several times and cursing him to high hell. "Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink…"

"Mary Ann!"

Eleanora jumped and the German jumped and released her. The butler was approaching, scowling at her.

"Honestly," he said, "I thought I told you that you're needed in the kitchen. Why are you still out here? I do beg your pardon, sir," he said, bowing to the man, "please forgive our maid. Come along now, Mary Ann." He grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her away from the ballroom and down to the servants' quarters. He shut the door and sighed. "There, now. Are you alright, Miss Black?"

Eleanora suddenly collapsed and leaned against him, panting. She had a certain quirk which helped her in some situations but was also rather dangerous: whenever she was scared, she would freeze up and not move. She had been scared in the ballroom so she had frozen and was almost at the mercy of that drunken jerk. She gripped the butler and tried not to cry.

"I hate men," she panted. "I really hate MEN."

Sebastian instinctively put his arm around her waist and held her closer.

"I know," he said softly. "Humans can be disgusting."

They remained like that for a time while she tried to control herself. Eventually she pulled away and wiped her eyes, hiccupping.

"Are you alright?" Sebastian asked, looking at her with something like mild concern. She nodded and hiccupped again. "I don't think that you should go back up there," he said. "Stay down here; you can help in the kitchen."

"But—the party…"

"Don't worry," he said firmly, pushing her towards the kitchen. "Just sit down and rest for a bit. I'll take care of everything."

She hiccupped for a third time and nodded. Sebastian smiled and left the servants' quarters.

Eleanora sat down at the kitchen table and sighed heavily. He had been unnaturally nice to her. She wondered why. Probably just being a gentleman—or something. Nothing to be concerned about. She was really mostly worried about the party—but there were other servants around, and the Earl. She was sure that—somehow—everything would turn out fine.

Sebastian made his way back up to the party, feeling a little lightheaded. Her hair had smelled nice—like roses.