The boy to his left was remarkably well-dressed, in clothes of fine wool, silk stockings, and even a black silk patch covering his right eye. He grasped a walking stick in his hand, a perfect miniature of an adult's. Though he would be loath to hear anyone say it, Cameron thought that Ciel's sincere attempt to front as a grown man was adorable.

Of course, the boy was wise beyond his years, and that wisdom was hard-won. In many ways Ciel had seen and knew more than most adults ever would. It was deeply tragic, and even more so considering that Ciel's soul was forfeit.

"I never want to visit that frightful city again," the boy complained as they entered the manor.

"You say the same thing each time we visit the townhouse, or indeed the city, my lord," said Sebastian, sounding rather amused as he collected their outerwear.

"I'm right with him," Cameron seconded. "The city stinks."

"Believe it or not, this is a great improvement from just a few decades ago," Sebastian said from behind, his breath tickling Cameron's ear. He didn't react, but he almost shook when Sebastian slid his heavy coat over his shoulders, his fingers running a slow line along his shoulders and the back of his neck, sweeping his long curls to the side. He took a quick step forward. Perhaps he didn't mean it, but whatever he was doing felt entirely too risqué to be happening in the entryway feet away from a child. He heard the man chuckle before he went on. "The English have improved their waste management practices immensely since the Great Stink of London in 1858."

"The Great Stink?" Cameron said. "Really?"

"Indeed, the smell of the Thames that year was enough to drive people from the city in droves," Sebastian answered.

"Ugh," Cameron muttered, "I shudder to imagine it any worse than it already is. We're spoiled out here in this country house."

"Speaking of which," Ciel said as he made it up the stairs, "I want something sweet. Chocolate, in fact."

"We're not far from dinner," Sebastian told him. "I will bear that in mind when I prepare dessert."

"See to it that you do," Ciel instructed.

He was quickly out of sight, and Cameron made to go to his own room, but Sebastian stopped him. "The young master will be having a bath in the hours after dinner. Would you have men draw you a bath to enjoy during the dinner preparations?"

The lack of a daily shower here did grate on him at times—he was fastidiously clean by nature, and especially during a luxurious dinner with Ciel and prepared by Sebastian, he felt horribly out of place if he hadn't bathed and cleaned up nicely. "That would be outstanding," he answered gratefully. "Please. But—don't you have your hands full already? Especially if there's something to, ah, clean up in the kitchen."

Sebastian gave him a stunning smile—not that his usual polite smiles and arrogant smirks weren't something to behold already. "It's kind of you as always to worry, sir. I assure you that I can manage the workload. After all, I am—"

"—one hell of a butler," Cameron finished, exasperated. "Lest I forget. And how many times do I have to beg you not to 'sir' me? All the formalities of this age are driving me up the wall."

Sebastian touched his chin in a thoughtful gesture. "Since you asked… I don't believe that you have resorted to begging, yet."

Cameron shot him a look. "Begging? Is that what you want from me?"

The look in Sebastian's eyes surprised him. What was it? Lust? Longing? Perhaps alongside some dark amusement. But he had to be mistaken… Cam didn't think Sebastian was like that. And… neither was he, for that matter. "Certainly not, sir. As for the formalities… I'm afraid it is the appropriate way for me to address you, being a servant."

"We're in a room alone," Cameron responded with a roll of his eyes, heart pounding. "But I get it… it's 1889."

"As you can see, young master, there's nothing to worry about. He's coming to now."

"You seem perfectly at ease," Ciel said, trying to sound perfectly at ease even though he was more than a little shaken by what had just happened. He'd noticed right away that Cameron Rutherford had eyes almost perfectly identical to those of the demon: deep brown in the shadows, glinting mahogany-red in the light. But Sebastian had assured him when the demon first alerted his young master to the situation that Rutherford, too, was only a human. He could only be as much of a threat to Ciel as any other human man was—that was none, as long as Sebastian was around. Of course, the situation with this particular man was a little… different.

He hadn't expected for his supposedly human guest's eyes to suddenly flash to a bright, shimmering fushia, exactly like his demon's during a show of power. The second Ciel had told him the date, his mouth had fallen slightly open, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his teacup—which was still full, and steaming slightly—slipped from his grasp. Ciel had expected him to pass out, even scoffed at the older man's weakness. Instead, though, his head had stayed straight up, his body tensed, and his eyes flickered to that unnatural color. Sebastian had startled and fallen to one knee in front of his seated form. Perhaps he too believed that Rutherford had passed out or was experiencing a seizure from the shock; after all, he'd looked alarmed.

But his expression didn't last long. Ciel watched as the demon gripped the man's chin between his thumb and forefinger, glanced up at his face, and made a curious noise.

Rutherford's eyes, still glowing, were darting rapidly from left to right, but that was the only part of him that appeared to be moving. In fact, Ciel wasn't entirely convinced he was even breathing. His whole body was rigidly still, and he had a white-knuckled grip on the arms of his chair.

"Hm." Sebastian tilted his head a little, looking directly into the brunette's eyes as well as he possibly could, in that state.

"Sebastian!" he choked out. "What—"

"One moment, young master," Sebastian had said, releasing his grip on Rutherford's chin and placing an index finger on each of his temples instead. He leaned in close. Their foreheads were almost touching. Ciel had thought about what Sebastian had told him about Rutherford and his stomach turned, but he was too fascinated to look away.

Sebastian's eyes had drifted shut. When they shot back open, his, too, were glowing demonically. He looked at first shocked, and then decidedly pleased, just as he had when he brought news of Rutherford's arrival.

The episode had only lasted a few moments longer, which brought them back to the present, with Rutherford leaning over his lap, resting his head in one palm, and gasping for breath.

"I am, young master," Sebastian replied. "If there was anything seriously amiss, I would have sensed it."

"Then what was that?" he demanded, gesturing at Rutherford. "Is that normal for all—people like him?"

The butler smiled thinly. "If you mean to refer to his relation to me, then no. This is a separate thing entirely." He leaned down to pick up the fallen teacup. "My, my. It is fortunate that I selected the silver set today over the porcelain. I didn't realize that our guest would be quite so clumsy."

Rutherford groaned quietly. "Well? What was it, then?" Ciel asked—for the third time—as he watched Rutherford raise his head and glanced sightlessly in his direction. There were suddenly shadows under his eyes, as if he'd been awake for hours. They'd also gone back to his less unusual color.

"It seems that you might benefit from Mr. Rutherford's presence after all, young master," Sebastian told him. "He is a Seer."

At this, Rutherford stiffened up again. Ciel was prepared for another fit, but instead the young man fixed his butler with a surprisingly menacing glare. His hands were balled into tight fists. "A seer. I guess you think that's funny, huh?" he ground our through gritted teeth.

Sebastian put a hand over his heart. "Why, you mistake me, sir. This is no slight against you," he said solemnly. "Tell me, what did you experience just now? Did you see Lord Phantomhive?"

Ciel leaned forward. What is he getting at?

Rutherford's eyes widened minutely. "Yes."

"And did you, perhaps, see me?"

"Yes," the man echoed.

"Your blindness," Sebastian continued, "is it a congenital defect?"

"Yes… I was born this way," the man continued. "I've never seen anything. I… shouldn't be able to see anything, or even picture it mentally."

"Sebastian, do you mean to imply that during a… fit, Mr. Rutherford is able to see?" Ciel asked. "I fail to see how that's useful to me."

"You'll understand momentarily, my lord," Sebastian promised. "Mr. Rutherford, did anything stand out to you about this vision?"

A crease formed between the man's eyebrows. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. I don't.., I didn't see you as you are now, in front of me. We were walking into a very large house… this one, I assume. I called it a countryside house. And we'd just been to London, to… to a townhouse."

Ciel was beginning to feel vaguely drawn in. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that someone could guess that a wealthy noble would have a London townhouse. Except… however outlandish it was, it seemed that this stranger had arrived from more than 150 years in the future. On top of that, he was American… would he really know enough about English customs in a time so far before his own? "Describe more of what you saw."

Rutherford seemed surprised. "It was nothing too consequential," he said after a few false starts. "We were just… just returning. You, Ci—Lord Phantomhive, complained that you hated the city and didn't want to return to it. Then you went up the stairs and—and demanded that Sebastian make you something chocolate for dessert." He scratched the back of his neck. "Uh. Now that I say it out loud it sounds very silly."

Sebastian's lips curved up in a smile. He looked very predatory in a way which, ironically enough, Ciel rarely saw. Perhaps the demon felt that it betrayed his aesthetic, and in this case just felt comfortable in the knowledge that his knew plaything couldn't see him doing it. "Mr. Rutherford, if you would do us the kindness of explaining what you saw," he requested. "Could you, perhaps, describe my young master?"

This was a test, Ciel realized, to determine whether his "visions" were, in fact, visions at all. Perhaps Rutherford got a similar feeling. He looked surprised by the question, and paused in consideration. "About five feet tall. Maybe a little shorter. Um, a meter and a half, I guess. Skinny. Like, 85 pounds soaking wet. Black hair—really dark, almost blue in the light. Big blue eye—a patch on the right one. He was wearing a bunch of silk and wool—all dark colors or blues. And… he had a bulky ring on his thumb. Silver with a blue stone, I think."

Throughout the description, he felt increasingly more surprised. It certainly sounded like him, though he resented the implication that he was unusually short and skinny. Even the details like the color of his hair in high light… if one of the servants had described him, perhaps, and this was where all that had come from, would they even bother mentioning that?

Still… if Rutherford's visions were always of such a benign nature, he couldn't imagine exactly how they could be useful, as Sebastian had said.

"And I, Mr. Rutherford?" Sebastian asked, his glinting eyes affixed upon the unsuspecting Rutherford.

"Excuse me?" he startled. His face flushed; he looked embarrassed. Ciel realized with amusement that he'd picked up on the affect of Sebastian's voice and believed he was being mocked. "Tall, dark, and handsome," he snapped out, with no small amount of sarcasm.

Ciel snorted into his palm at the look on the demon's face. If he'd been looking to have his ego stroked, the grating tone of Rutherford's voice must have thoroughly quashed his hopes.

Ciel wondered if Sebastian wasn't disappointed already, anyways, and just hadn't given voice to it. How strange it must be to discover the think that you're looking for is another man, he thought snidely. If Sebastian, a demon, could even be considered a man himself.

Ciel cleared his throat. "Interesting though that may be, I don't see its usefulness. Sebastian, you'll have to elaborate."

"It has been many years since I've come across a Seer, my lord. They, and others of their kind, were much more common in the old days. But they all had one thing in common," Sebastian told him. "They were occasionally granted visions of their futures."

Rutherford made a confused sound at the same time, and in the same moment Ciel scoffed, "Nonsense!" It was certainly his instinct to think so… except that Sebastian couldn't lie to him.

"You doubt me, young master?" Sebastian said reproachfully. "You commanded me to answer, and I can only tell the truth."

Rutherford seemed the most confused out of anyone in the room, which was a little strange since they were his visions. "I'm sorry? It's… it's hard enough for me to believe that I've somehow landed in 1889… and now you're telling me that I've been seeing the future all this time? It's—I can't believe that."

"And whyever not, sir?" Sebastian asked smoothly. And it seemed that even without being able to see the look in the demon's eyes, the other man could sense that he was a creature hunted; he sank slightly in on himself as the butler continued. "Surely you've had visions which have later come to pass. In fact… I'm certain you Saw me before today and perhaps my young master."

Sebastian really was closing in on him now, in a physical sense. It was a strange thing to see him do this, not at Ciel's command or request. But Sebastian had made it clear he would not be muzzled when it came to this person. "It's called deja vu," he snapped weakly. "It happens to everyone."

Sebastian was on his knees now, and again gripped Rutherford's chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing him into a facsimile of eye contact. "You have, then," Sebastian said lowly into the man's shocked face. "And tell me… have any of those come true yet?"

Rutherford snapped out of his stupor in a flash. In one swift movement, he used one arm to push Sebastian's hand from his face and pushed his chair back with the other, rising to stand. "Don't put your fucking hands on me."

"So it's true," Sebastian said. "And what a filthy mouth you have."

Rutherford looked enraged, but Ciel quickly cut in before he or Sebastian could speak any further. It seemed that his butler would only keep needling him, and he had no desire to see how his butler would handle the situation if it escalated, especially considering the nature of his… relationship with the young man, who was clearly none the wiser.

And if it was true that there had been visions concerning his future before… that was his concern now. "Mr. Rutherford. Please. I apologize. Will you have a seat?"

The other man sighed wearily, eyes still sparkling with rage, and stepped away from a now standing Sebastian to be seated again.

"Sebastian, go and freshen up the tea. It's gone cold, and Mr. Rutherford's has gone to waste. The same blend will do."

"Yes, my lord."

His butler promptly left with the cart in tow, and the tension seemed to diffuse immediately. It wasn't to last long, but it would be long enough.

"Do you…" Rutherford cleared his throat. "Do you believe him?"

Ciel reclined in the chair. "It's as he said. He can't lie." He took a bite of his scone, looking thoughtfully at the other man. He didn't have the look of a commoner; he was thin, but had clean, white skin tarnished only by a smattering of light freckles, and his hair was in sleek curls too perfect to be anything but healthy. His eyes didn't look like what Ciel would expect from a blind person—clouded with cataracts, perhaps—but were sharp and intelligent. If it weren't for his ridiculous getup in the gardener's ill-fitting clothing, he would fit in well enough as a staff member… or a guest, as Sebastian had insisted. "You seem more resistant to believing it yourself. Denying the truth isn't strength. You won't survive this world if you can't accept reality."

Most older men bristled upon receiving advice from a boy Ciel's age, but surprisingly, Rutherford did not. Instead, he stared directly at him, smiling thinly. "Of course you're right," he said with resignation. There was a pause, and he sighed. "In my time, doctors have mapped out all the areas of the brain and their respective purposes. One of them is the visual cortex… it's just here." He tapped the back of his head, ruffling some of the curls. "The thing is… your brain doesn't want to waste energy. So if you're born blind, as I was, the visual cortex doesn't develop properly. In fact, if you were to lose your eyesight later in life, you would eventually lose your visual memory when your brain realizes you aren't collected new data anymore. Over time you'll forget everything you saw. The point is… I shouldn't be able to visualize anything. It isn't meant to be possible. Much less the future. That's ludicrous. But here I am…" He paused again, eerily meet Ciel's eyes with his unseeing ones. "Here I am in the estate of the Queen's Guard Dog… and his inhuman butler."

Ciel's breath caught, both in surprise and fascination. Sebastian certainly would not have told him that, or had reason to mention his unofficial title. "I suppose this means you can no longer deny yourself."

Rutherford chuckled wearily, leaning his head heavily on one arm. "I suppose not." He swallowed. "So… am I useful to you?" He seemed unoffended, his lips curling into a more genuinely amused expression.

Ciel didn't answer that question. He didn't have to. In truth, he'd never had the option to turn Rutherford out to begin with. Sebastian would leave too, perhaps brutally ending their contract in the process. Even if he was loath to admit it, he stood little chance against the underworld without his very capable butler.

Now, however, he had leverage. Forcing himself to allow Rutherford to remain as a guest if he had no worthy skills to offer would mean alerting Rutherford to the fact that he'd never risked being abandoned in a strange time or place, and gave him a power that made Ciel distinctly uncomfortable. Since he was of particular talents, however, he could believe that his invitation to stay depended on his usefulness. At least for now, that guaranteed his loyalty.

And even apart from Sebastian's demand to keep the young man at close proximity, he could hardly stand to lose a person who could potentially give him insight out of reach even of the demon.

The very thought of Sebastian seemed to summon the demon and he appeared in the opened doorway, pushing the cart ahead of him. Rutherford tensed as the cart came to a stop. "Your tea, young master," the demon said, placing the cup on a saucer ahead of him. "And Mr. Rutherford."

"Wait, Sebastian," he ordered, tapping the desk in front of him. "Set it here. Cameron—might I call you Cameron?"

"Please," Rutherford said with tangible relief. "People in the 21st century are a lot less formal."

"Cameron, pull up your chair," Ciel said, glowing in his victory. "We are to be friends, after all."

"I take it your conversation was productive, young master," Sebastian said as he poured Rutherford's tea, looking rather pleased with himself as well. Notably, Rutherford didn't thank him.

"Indeed. Cameron will stay here at the manor as an honored guest. You'll move him to a better room from the servant's quarters, of course. Make sure his needs are met. I trust you'll pass this on to the servants."

"Of course, my lord."

"I'm certain you'll need someone to assist you in navigating the manor to begin with, won't you?" he asked, addressing the Seer this time.

"Yes," Cameron said. "I'm sorry to be trouble… I can easily avoid obstacles with my cane but I'm just as liable to get lost."

Ciel nodded. "Very well."

"It would be my pleasure, sir," Sebastian said.

Rutherford tensed again, but seemed to sense that there was no polite way to escape the situation. Ciel couldn't (and wouldn't) spare him either. He'd been forced to agree that he would in no way disrupt Sebastian's interactions with this man. And, with a stranger in the manor, he would prefer if his butler had an eye on it. "Excellent. We'll also need to acquire more suitable clothing for your station. Which means…" He cringed. "We'll have to call on Nina Hopkins."

His butler sighed. "I suppose you're right, my lord."

"I'm sorry," said Rutherford, sipping his tea and looking pleasantly surprised at it. "Who?"

"Nina Hopkins is the foremost tailor and designer in all of London," Sebastian explained. "She's known as 'the tailor who announces the seasons', and serves only the elite and wealthy clientele."

"She's also very eccentric," Ciel complained. "If, as you say, people in the future are 'not so formal', I'm sure you'll get along well."

The man laughed heartily at his discontent and then frowned. "Elite and wealthy? Then… this is going to cost a lot."

Ciel waved a hand dismissively. "It's of no consequence."

Rutherford looked as if he might protest when Sebastian cut in. "If I may, I believe your knowledge of the future may be useful to the young master in more ways than one. The Phantomhives own a corporation with several distinguished branches. Perhaps you could shed light on what ventures may soon be profitable."

Ciel hummed his agreement. If Rutherford was going to be here, he certainly wasn't opposed to using his unique circumstances to enrich his family name. And the man could hardly protest, shown such hospitality.

And the other man did look skeptical for a moment, but not for long—shorter even than Ciel had expected. "I do like to feel productive," he answered with a shrug. "But I should warn you that my field is biochemistry. My expertise on other subjects is bound to be limited."

"No matter," said Ciel. "If you give us a starting point, we can expand from there. If an idea is promising, Funtom Corporation will spare no expense to hire qualified people to do the fine tuning."

"Master, I'm afraid I must see to Mr. Rutherford's arrangements, and check on the progress of dinner," Sebastian announced, checking his watch. "Are you quite comfortable?"

"Yes, yes," Ciel answered. "Cameron, perhaps you could stay here and keep me company until your room is prepared. Do you play chess?"

"If you're willing to announce your move aloud to me, of course," the other man answered in earnest.

"I'll take my leave, then," Sebastian said with a bow. "Do call if you need me."

Rutherford's sculpted brow twitched in annoyance.

Ciel couldn't help but smirk at his butler's retreating back. Sebastian may not be able to lie to him, but that part of their agreement was only one way. The fool didn't seem to know that his so-called mate was aware of his true nature and thoroughly repelled… and Ciel didn't intend to enlighten him. It would be much more fun, he thought, to watch the beast suffer.

two updates in one day? because i skipped work to write? no way! 10.21.2023

edited to add a missing line break