So Rockwell arrived at the Phantomhive manor promptly on time. He took great care to examine the exterior décor, from the various sculptures to the Gothic palette. He stepped out of the cabby, paying his fare and tipping his hat at him, and gathered his strength to come before Ciel.
A cool wind buffeted through the trees, rustling their leaves. The sound appeared to Rockwell like rattling chains, only unsettling him further. Stones lined the pavement to the grand front doors. The windows at each door peered into the world like sightless eyes, clouded and faintly showing the silhouette of Ciel standing in wait.
Rockwell knocked on the door, keeping a hand which held a handkerchief tightly at his jacket-lapel, as though it was slowly choking him.
The door opened much more quickly than he would have liked. Before him was the pale, crimson-eyed butler Rockwell feared so.
"H-Hello," Rockwell stammered, then cleared his throat. "Hello, I am here to collect my goods from Ciel." His hand travelled from his lapel to his coat pocket, lingering there.
"Come in," Sebastian said, noticing each breath and movement than man before him made. "Ciel will be here shortly. Would you like some tea, sir?"
Rockwell looked around the interior, which was quite unlike the outside, all fogged up with the misty weather. Lavish furniture lined the walls, and a painting stood at the top of the stairs, hidden half by shadow so that it was undistinguishable.
"No," Rockwell said, "I'm afraid I am short on time. Although I do not want to seem hasty…"
"Certainly, sir. I will collect your order." Sebastian turned in left. At his exit, hardly a moment after, Ciel walked in. His tight blue suit stood out against the maroon walls. A flower was pinned to his breast pocket. He approached Rockwell stiffly.
"Hello, boy," Rockwell leered.
Ciel refused to answer.
"Well, it is a pleasure certainly to see you again." He prattled on until Sebastian returned, with a hefty box. He handed it to Rockwell he struggled under the weight. "Oh, thank you, the money will be sent to you before the sun sets."
That was what Rockwell wanted to say, but the box slipped out of his hands and Sebastian loomed over him, holding the box daintily in a single hand.
"Rockwell, I know you do not simple wish to don these presents upon your relatives. I know latent motives when I catch sight of them. So tell me, what is it that you want?"
Rockwell started to pull a sleek metal handle from his pocket, which trembled in his grasp.
"Don't try anything you'd regret," Ciel almost sneered, "I'll have you know that my butler is much more than capable."
Sebastian did, however, sneer. Rockwell bit his lip, his cheeks enflamed pink and his eyes wide.
"Mr. Phantomhive, my good boy, whatever do you mean by-"
Sebastian threw him against the wall, pinning him by his throat with a stern hand. The box lay peacefully in another corner of the room.
"I will tell, please, don't kill me!" He blubbered, shutting his eyes. "I am doing this for an old friend of his. I don't know what he wants with me, I don't know what he wants at all to do with these dolls! He asked for an order. I have the money and I owe him my life, so who am I to refuse? I swear it's the truth!" Rockwell poked a stubby finger at his heart and made a cross over it.
Ciel gave Sebastian a sidelong glance.
Sebastian dropped a blustering Rockwell and collected the box, returning it to Rockwell.
Rockwell took it, pulling a slip of paper from his pocket. "Take the money now, then." Ciel snatched the bank note away and hid it in his pocket, looking upwards at Rockwell from his height.
Rockwell chuckled uneasily, stepping back towards the door. "Now, it is my turn to warn you not to do anything you may regret. My friend is also very capable. I'm sure your butler here can do much harm, but something tells me that he will be no match to him."
"Tell us all you know and we'll let you go without another word." Sebastian wagered.
The offer wavered before Rockwell's gullible eyes, loitering in one part of his mind before drifting to the next. As he chewed it, the two owners of the house stared at him. Somewhere the other workers were possibly breaking a plate of fine china. Rockwell's life started to feel threatened and he decided that he would tell the two. Besides, what harm could they do?
If only he knew.
"My good gentlemen, my friend is a doctor of the finest quality. He may lack in strength, but his mind is the most powerful of all that I have ever come across. He's a doctor, you see, a doctor of the mind—a therapist, if you will. But he's mighty powerful. He plays tricks on your mind. One minute you could be a healthy young man and the next you'll be in the loony bin claiming to be a chicken raised by a pack of wolves." Rockwell said.
"And…" he hesitated, not knowing where to look. "And he has some sort of hellish help, something not of this world."
"Does it take the shape of a man?" Sebastian asked.
"I can't say that I truly know. He only speaks of it, he only makes these threats and I feel it. I can feel him using his power, using his mad abilities to make me believe. He may not have it at all. He may have tricked me into believing it. But something tells me that it's true, something tells me that he really does have that help. How else would he be able to do such things?"
"Is that all you know?" Ciel said, tapping his fingers on the wall. He had walked back over to the hall, watching Rockwell speak from there. Sebastian had, too, retreated back by several steps.
"He has a son, too. Several years older, in fact, and he's very ill, but no fool—mind you. Perhaps you should consult with him. But I warn you, he sleeps any time I go over so you should time yourself well."
"Very well, go." Ciel turned away and went to his office.
Sebastian called a cabby and led Rockwell to the door.
Just as Rockwell turned away, he bent his head and said:
"Tell him that I am no stranger to his games."
Rockwell, chilled to the bone, nodded and left quickly, his coat tails trailing behind him. Sebastian did not smile, but rather he frowned and shut the door, contemplating his next course of action.