The balance is the point at which a sheep can be convinced to move forward with virtually no input from the sheepdog other than its presence.

"Hey, hey, Ciel, you've gotten a bit taller, haven't you?"

Ciel had just stood up from behind his desk when Soma entered the office, and his wide blink said that he hadn't been prepared for that opening question. This off-guard expression quickly morphed into one of minor exasperation. "Um… yes…"

"I knew it!" Soma put his hands on his hips and laughed proudly. "As your best friend, you can count on me to notice! But why do you look so upset about it? You should be excited! How tall are you now, anyway?"

Ciel's response was like a long sigh. "I think I've managed to reach five feet…"

He was, in fact, just a bit more than five feet tall. And it was an understatement to say that Ciel lacked excitement: with an increase in height came a decrease in coordination. Sebastian was not unfamiliar with this in the least. At the very beginning of the year, weeks before the Shrove Tuesday party, Ciel had grown an entire inch in a matter of a month. He'd stumbled often, tripping over his own feet or the slightest indentation in a rug or nothing discernible at all, trying to learn how to navigate the world from a slightly higher vantage point. Once the boy was finally comfortable being four-foot-eleven, his body had decided it was time for yet another boost in height. Thus, the dreaded stumbling had returned.

Ciel yipped in annoyance as Soma yanked him out from behind the desk and spun him around so that they could stand back to back. The prince strained to peer behind himself. "You're about up to my chin now! Wow! I wonder if you'll ever get bigger than me! Well, you probably won't. I am pretty tall. But that just means the universe is as it should be! You are my little brother, after all!" Soma gave another ringing laugh.

"... All right," Ciel said wearily. "Now, can we ple—"

"Saaaay, why aren't you more excited?" Soma puffed out his cheeks, jabbing Ciel in the arm with an accusing finger. "You've been so small for so long! You're finally growing! Ah, but could it be that I'm the first one to congratulate you? Is that why you seem so indifferent?"

"... I don't want congratulations for something that's outside of my control," Ciel growled, pulling his arm away. Then, with a thought, he grinned mockingly. "And I've been growing steadily for a while now. That's old news. Maybe it just seems like a big change to you because you haven't been by in almost a month."

"Heyyyy! So mean! Ciel is the meanest!" Soma's hands were on his hips again, this time out of insult. "You were the one who told me that I couldn't come back to the manor until I was invited! You made me wait a month! And it was such a sad month for me, not seeing my best friend all that time!" Soma began to wither before them like the world's most dramatic flower, posture crumpling as he gripped at the front of his tunic and began to weep his crocodile tears. "And here you are, getting taller without me to see it! Who knows what else will change between this meeting and our next? Why, when you finally come to stay with me in London next month, maybe the dear sweet Ciel voice I know and love will be gone forever, never to be heard again!"

Ciel had been letting this monologue unravel, eyebrows ticking and mouth a mirthless smile. At that final sentence, he looked mildly curious. "What do you mean by that? Are… Are you talking about my voice getting deeper?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Soma cried. His theatrical descent had taken him all the way to his knees, and he grabbed at Ciel's hands now. "So stop spending so much time away from me! I don't like missing so much of my best friend's life that he could be a different person next time I see him!"

Ciel ignored the latter part of Soma's answer. "What made you mention that now? Is there something about me that makes you think my voice is going to change soon?"

"Hmmmmmm…" Soma considered that as he forced Ciel into helping him stand up again. "Oh! I suppose it's because right before my voice changed, I had grown about two inches in just a few months… I remember it happened very quickly. One day, I spoke no differently from my sisters, and the next I sounded like I do now!"

"It… It didn't really only take a day for your voice to get deeper, did it?" Ciel stammered.

"It did!" Soma snapped his fingers. "I went to bed and I woke up just like this!"

"Erm… let's not mislead, my prince," Agni felt the need to interject, from his assumed position next to Sebastian up against the wall. "I am certain it must have required at least a few weeks for such a change to take place…"

"I guess it probably took a few weeks," Soma agreed with a decisive nod. He patted Ciel on the head. "But maybe now that you've grown a bit more, you will start to sound like a man, too, like me! Isn't that exciting?!"

Ciel removed the hand from his hair. "Hmph. Your voice could drop an octave and you still wouldn't sound like a man. Everything you say is childish." He gazed at Soma for another second, debating momentarily before deciding to venture, "How old were you when your voice changed anyway…?"

"Hmmmm!" Soma put a hand to his chin and rocked on his heels. "I might have been fifteen or I might have been twelve. I don't really remember."

Ciel flinched. "Fifteen or twelve?! Th-That's a huge difference! Does it really feel the same to you?!" He clapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh, never mind, it doesn't matter… I should have known you wouldn't be able to give me a solid answer."

"You'll have to write me if your voice starts getting squeaky!" said Soma. "Then we'll know for sure that it's changing."

Ciel's brows drew together. "Squeaky? That… That's really what happens?"

Soma nodded, nodded, nodded. "Yeah! Sometimes you'll be talking and you'll make a noise like… BaaaAAAaaa!" After granting them what seemed to be the deathsong of a deranged ram, Soma laughed brightly. "Because your voice doesn't know what's right anymore, so it becomes strange and crackly. It's funny!"

Ciel had unconsciously brought a hand up to the base of his throat. He looked revolted. "That's not funny, it's horrific. If that happens to me, I'm not going to speak to anybody until it's all done with."

"It's not a matter of if! " Soma wagged his finger in the younger boy's face. "It's a matter of when! "

Ciel gave a slight shudder, perturbed. "Great. There's something I didn't know I had to look forward to. But that's enough dallying. There's work to be done."

"Ah, yes!" Soma clapped his hands together as Ciel rounded his desk once more. "There's work to be done! We are business partners, after all."

"Right. Business partners." Ciel reached for something in a lower drawer. "And I'm sure you'll have nothing but professional criticism for this, 'business partner.'"

Thus, the Maharaja Bitter Rabbit prototype was unceremoniously placed atop the desk. Whatever fanfare Ciel would not deign to supply, Soma made up for with an enormous gasp and cry of delight, for the little gray rabbit he'd been presented was dressed head to toe in an imitation of royal Indian garb. The doll's long ears poked through the top of a cream-colored muslin turban, and a turquoise glass jewel in the shape of an oval studded the front of the headpiece. The kurta beneath matched the jewel perfectly. Its Egyptian cotton surface was embroidered with gold thread around the collar. The embroidery's delicate yet simple design of ensnaring leaves plunged halfway down the tunic to loosely form the shape of a penknife. Finally, the dhoti was made of a burnished yellow sateen, and a plump round tail stuck out from the back of them, like a cute reminder that animals were not born to wear human clothing.

Soma seized the doll under its armpits and stared at it in awe. When he found his voice, the prince breathed, "It's perfect."

"It had better not be," said Ciel. "It's only the first iteration, and I want there to be at least two more stages of development before we settle on a finished product. Of course, that means my design team is going to have to work extra hard over the next few— ACK! "

Suddenly, Soma began awarding Ciel much the same treatment he had given Bitter Rabbit: pulling the boy, again, out from behind his desk and squeezing him as tightly as if he were full of soft stuffing. "Oh, Ciel! This is the greatest gift I've ever been given in my entire life, except for maybe my elephants! You are truly the best friend I will ever find in all of England!"

"Let… go of me…" Ciel coughed, and after a great bit of twisting, he finally managed to slither his way out of the hug, like a mongoose from a constrictor. He glowered beneath his struggle-fluffed hair. "Can't you ever control yourself?! If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times, don't touch me so easily!"

Soma paid him no mind. His capricious attention was back on the toy. "I do appreciate that this fellow has trousers on," he laughed. "A lot of the time, you don't give your poor dolls any! I always thought they must be so embarrassed."

Ciel sighed, accepting begrudgingly that he was being ignored. "May I interest you in the fact that modesty is lost on toy animals? The clothing is just to give them a bit of personality and to make them visually appealing. Now be more serious, if you're actually capable. Do you see anything that looks inaccurate? For instance, the embroidery at the neckline?"

"Oh, it's quite bad," Soma said as jovially as ever. "But there's nothing to be done about that, is there? Seeing as these dolls are meant for poor children."

"For poor children, he says… They are meant to be appreciated by anyone," Ciel explained carefully. "And they are intended to be affordable for the majority of the population, which is why the clothing is made entirely of cotton fabrics. But I'm not about to sacrifice the overall quality or craftsmanship, even when I'm catering to an average citizen. So, we do what we can to keep our prices lower on the scale while presenting something appealing. Anyway, the embroidery pattern you see here is just a placeholder. I would love for it to look more grand. But we also need to pick a pattern that can be easily replicated time and again by the seamstress department, as well as something that won't rack up expenses. Do you have any suggestions for how we might change the embroidery?"

"Well… other than the color, what you've done looks nothing like zardozi," Soma explained. "The stitches are too far apart. If they were closer together, then it would look more elegant, don't you think?"

Ciel squinted in thought. "It's hard for me to tell without seeing it firsthand. But you're more familiar with it, so I imagine you're right." Ciel had been half-sitting on the edge of his desk, and he turned around now to reach into a top drawer for a spare piece of paper. "I'm going to give you the address for my lead manager, Mr. Cavendish. If it isn't too much trouble, please send him a piece from your wardrobe with the, the zardozi? That embroidery, as an example. I'll be sure to cover the delivery and any added costs to keep your clothing safe. And of course it would be returned to you after the Funtom event. Is that fine?"

"Of course it's fine!" Soma had the rabbit by its ears and was swinging it back and forth in the air.

Ciel's hand slowed until it stopped writing. "You didn't hear anything I said just now, did you?"

"Sure I did!" Soma's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "You said you needed something with zardozi embroidery, so I'm going to send it to someone, and then they'll do something about it."

"..." Ciel went back to writing. "Close enough, but I'm certain you aren't going to remember, so at least I know I can count on Agni to have the task accomplished."

"Oh! Um, of course, Lord Phantomhive!" Agni piped up, flustered.

But Soma was abruptly offended. "Agni doesn't have to do anything! I'm fully capable of remembering!" He puffed out his cheeks. "I'll prove it! I have a trick! Hold up your hand!"

Ciel's eyelids lowered. "You have a trick and you want me to hold up my hand... I can't think of any reason why those two things should go together, but I am certainly not interested in being 'tricked.'"

Soma shook his head, his thick hair bouncing in its tie. "I'm not tricking you! It's not like that! Now hold up your hand!"

Begrudgingly, Ciel put down his pen and held up his right hand.

Soma held up his right hand, too. Then he extended his pointer finger. "Now hold out one finger!"

After a brief hesitation, during which the young master perhaps considered the finger he'd rather hold out, Ciel offered his pointer in return. Soma pressed their fingertips together and said, as if reciting it, "By the power of our friendship, I, Prince Soma, hereby promise to remember what my dearest companion in all of England, Ciel Phantomhive, has asked of me, and swear on my heart to enact it to the very best of my ability."

Then Soma took his hand back and smiled primly, like a schoolboy who had arrived home with full marks.

Ciel blinked tiredly back at this happy face. "And the purpose of all that was…?"

"It's a memory charm!" Soma said. "I came up with it myself! If I do the finger trick, the words I say stick in my mind and keep me from forgetting! So now I'll be sure to send zardozi embroidery to your friend and I won't need Agni to remind me!"

"… Right." Ciel finished with the address and pushed the piece of paper towards Soma before taking his weight off the edge of the desk. "Well, there you have it. There's the first step towards a finished product. Now, I have a lot of work to return to, so I'll see you by again in a week for another evaluation of the doll's progress. I trust you know the way out."

Bewildered, Soma shook his head, then stomped his foot after the words sunk in. "Hey! Are you dismissing us already?! I didn't travel here for two whole hours just to be sent off after only another fifteen minutes have gone by!"

Ciel had plopped down in his armchair. "That's the nature of my business meetings: they're short and to the point. No need for how-do-you-dos and all the silly frills they bring with them." But Soma must have had a look to him that said he was ready to pitch a tantrum, and so Ciel turned his attention to the butlers in the corner. "Okay, okay, fine, it is only fair. Why don't the two of you make yourselves useful and fix us something for lunch? But then I have to get back to work no matter what."

Night whispered with thunder somewhere far beyond the Phantomhive territory. It was pitch black but for the occasional rustle of lightning from behind cushioning clouds. The rain spilled down the window in streams that crossed and separated and crossed again and turned the dry earth to mud — but the ground could suck these storm clouds dry and still not heal all the damage of a parched winter.

Inside the office was a cozier story. The room was incandescent with a golden fire Sebastian had fixed up an hour ago. Accompanied by the snapping of the logs and the sounds of the water beyond the glass, the scene could make one feel they were living inside a lantern. The storybook warmth likely had that effect on even Ciel, who looked nestled and calm when Sebastian arrived to serve tea at eight o'clock.

"What a day," the boy said, holding the hot drink under his chin to feel the steam rising off of it. "That princeling is always a handful. I wonder if he'll ever act his age… not that it matters. He doesn't have any real responsibilities or people he needs to impress."

With the silver platter tucked under his thumbs, Sebastian stood with his back against the wall beside the desk, so that he and Ciel were both facing the door. They could still turn to look at each other easily when needed this way, and Sebastian imagined Ciel prefered his butler to stand here, rather than in front of the desk, so that their eyes didn't necessarily have to meet. Sebastian said, "And yet despite Prince Soma's inexperience, you have given him a fair bit of responsibility, haven't you?"

"For better or worse," Ciel grumbled. He sipped the tea. "Maybe he'll learn something useful from it all. Not that he understands any bit of how to conduct himself in a businesslike manner. Grabbing at me like that the whole time! Ugh. Did he learn truly nothing of etiquette from his life in a palace?"

"He does not seem to have much to show for it," Sebastian conceded. "You endure his embraces quite well."

Ciel scowled into his mug. "Only because I don't have any choice. It doesn't matter if I tell him to stop touching me. He never listens."

Hm. That was true.

"Do you think if you asked him quite seriously, he would listen to you?" Sebastian said.

Ciel snorted. "No. He's an awful listener. Even with his… ridiculous finger trick. You can't really count on Soma for anything, except to do whatever he likes."

"That isn't a typical way people speak about their friends, sir."

A pause. "He isn't my friend."

"Ah, I see," Sebastian said easily. "Well, regardless of how you see him, I do believe Prince Soma sees you as a friend. And I assume he would appreciate knowing how to treat you like one — perhaps to the same degree that you would like to be treated as one. At the very least, my lord might continue to find him a useful resource when it comes to the confusions of adolescence. Our prince didn't emerge from it so very long ago himself, after all."

Ciel colored slightly. "I don't need Soma for anything. It's just that if he's going to keep insisting on seeing me, he should be given something to do. At least if he's busy thinking about stuffed rabbits and desserts and what have you, he can't get into too much mischief."

"He does still get into a fair bit of mischief, though, wouldn't you agree?" Sebastian mused. "What I mean to say is, you are rather protective of him."

"I'm not anything of the sort!" Ciel raised his lip. "I'm scarcely tolerant of him! I yell at him about something every single time he visits me!"

"So you do. Then, if you are so dedicated to the cause of Prince Soma hearing you, sir, I'm curious as to why you won't try to sit him down and explain to him that you don't want to be touched so much."

A palm smacked against the armrest. "Because he won't listen. And neither will you apparently! Have to bloody say it twice…" Ciel began guzzling down his tea, his way of communicating that he was planning to bring their conversation to a close.

Sebastian decided to appeal to the boy's oppositional nature. "You have the perfect chance to prove me wrong. If Prince Soma is truly incapable of hearing you, take the opportunity next time he visits to tell him that he needs to be more conscientious of your needs."

Ciel shifted around in his chair. He seemed incredibly frustrated. "It's not that easy," he hissed. "I want him to hear me, but… I don't want him to… I mean… What if he…" Ciel trailed off. He squeezed at his cup with both hands.

"What if he asked you why?" Sebastian filled in. Ciel looked at him with wide eyes of shock. "You don't have to tell him that. You don't need a reason to have your boundaries respected, young master."

"Don't put words in my mouth!" Ciel snapped. The shock had been replaced by anger. "That isn't what I was going to say! Not that you believe me. You probably think I'm lying to you all the time because I'm 'too frightened of the truth,' don't you!"

Sebastian recognized he'd pushed too far yet again. Drat; his assertive nature could still get the better of him. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have tried to guess what you were going to say. But I would be very gratified to know what your real answer would have been."

"Yes, you would be very gratified to know," Ciel said tersely. The pleasure of denying Sebastian information had eased the edge off his hostility. "Well, too bad. You don't get to hear it now. And don't think I didn't notice how you tried to con me into doing things your way. With that little challenge of yours to talk to Soma… You're as manipulative as ever, damn demon. Seems a tiger truly can't change its stripes." Ciel stood and tossed the empty bone china teacup in Sebastian's direction as uncaringly as he would toss a ball for a lapdog. "The Funtom event is still a month away. Do you want to change my mind about our nightly meetings or not? Any time you open your mouth, nothing but your usual bile comes spilling out. Anyway, I'm only going to be around the manor tomorrow, so I'd rather skip the bath tonight. I'm sick of looking at you. Goodbye."

Head held high, Ciel walked briskly out of the room while mumbling not quite under his breath, "Only he could manage to turn a perfectly temperate fire into a stifling one using only his voice…"

Well. And that was that was that.

After tidying the room here and there, Sebastian went down to the kitchen to clean up the tea items. He tried to be reflective as he washed the kettle. But was he really doing a poor job at this? Or was Ciel's incredible obstinance keeping him from giving Sebastian a fair go at it? Sebastian imagined it had to be some mix of both. Ciel had hinted (or, really, spelled out) yet again that Sebastian was talking too much. But if Sebastian didn't speak, didn't offer some direction or advice, was he really doing anything for the boy but listening?

"You and the young master have been meeting every evening lately, haven't you, Mr. Sebastian?"

He had noticed Tanaka's subtle presence enter the kitchen in the back of his consciousness, but Sebastian hadn't expected to be addressed at all. He turned his head to see the elderly man standing right beside him at the sink. Tanaka's eyes were alight and crinkled from the gentle smile beneath his mustache.

Sebastian shifted his gaze to his task, aiming to appear casual since he couldn't outright lie. "We have."

"I thought so." In his periphery, Sebastian saw Tanaka's smile widen without looking anything but soft. "I thought I heard the two of you speaking when I passed by the office just a few nights ago, and then again tonight when I was planning to bring some tax forms by. I did not stay to listen to what was being said, but I did notice the tone of voice from the young master seemed perhaps impassioned."

Tanaka stopped speaking there but still smiled, as if he expected Sebastian to have something to comment on. Sebastian wondered what his comment was meant to be. Eventually, he tried, "My lord is very busy these days. There is a lot on his mind."

"Of course, of course," Tanaka agreed. "But I imagine there is a lot on yours, too. Having to manage all of the young master's emotional needs on your own… Well. It must be confusing at times. You did profess, in the past, to feeling somewhat unaccustomed to such personal conversations. I only thought I would check with you and see if all is well."

Ah. So he wants me to confide in him.

Sebastian continued to wash the kettle. He wasn't sure how much Ciel wanted him to talk about their nightly meetings with the other staff; probably not at all. The content of the conversations was undoubtedly off-limits. That alone should give Sebastian cause to brush Tanaka off.

But… Sebastian did wonder if he should be seeking advice. Human adults were nearly always the caretakers of human children. Aside from a few rare cases throughout history where a child managed to survive among canids or ungulates, Sebastian could think of no situation as unique as his own. He'd heard legends of non-human immortals that had allowed a human into their hearts, but never a firsthand case. Though really it wasn't so unusual that he should be clueless of what other immortals did. Greater demons like himself did not like to engage with other immortals of any kind. They did not tend to make partnerships, not even for the sake of gathering information. If Sebastian's growing sympathy was not a unique case amongst demonkind, he had no supernatural outlets for finding out — other than that despicable Undertaker, and interacting with him was bad enough.

Humans were not like demons, though. And as greedy as the humans who summoned Sebastian could be, the majority were rather like herd animals, preferring to work together to achieve goals that could not be met on one's own. Some were even eager to help others at no obvious benefit to themselves. Tanaka was such a human. Sebastian didn't doubt this man only wanted the best for Ciel; Tanaka had never betrayed even a glimpse of an ulterior motive. It was part of why Sebastian had more than an ounce of respect for him.

But that didn't mean that Sebastian felt like his and Ciel's business was any of Tanaka's.

"I shall be certain to inform you, if it is ever the case that things are not well," Sebastian decided to say.

Tanaka was as wise as his years. He only gave a singular nod, as if he had known that was exactly what Sebastian was going to say all along. "I do hope you will. Everyone here only wants the best for the young master. And if it means we must put our heads together to think of a solution to a problem he confronts, then I am of the mind that we must do it. That is how it was even when the house had forty more of us here to help. We are all on the same team, even if one of us is in the garden and another in the scullery. We all have a pair of hands to offer in a time of need." He thumped Sebastian on the arm twice before turning to go. "Apologies, but it is rather late for me now. I bid you goodnight, then, and only the best of luck."

"... Yes. Thank you. Goodnight, Mr. Tanaka."

Now, wasn't that conversation similar to the one Sebastian had had with Bard just last month? There, Sebastian had concluded that sometimes the manor staff must occasionally go against their servant positions in order to keep Ciel from acting on a dangerous impulse. Tanaka was effectively saying the same thing: that if Ciel were to be in an emotionally precarious situation, Sebastian should not keep it to himself, especially if he felt unequipped to help the boy through.

Well. He supposed it didn't hurt to have the option.

Thursday, the 10th of July, required a visit to the venue of the Funtom event to plan the decorations and layout, so it was off to London for a noon appointment. Fairclough was not there to open the door to Sedgemore House for lord and butler this time. Instead, more appropriately, the summons was heeded by a footman who bowed them indoors and took them in the direction of the study. But before they could get very far at all, boisterous laughter came from behind the main stairwell, and all of a sudden Fairclough and a familiar male guest strolled into the entrance hall to join Sebastian and Ciel.

"... at least for me, I find getting an answer out of them is about as easy as pulling teeth," Mr. Goode finished with a hearty laugh before he spotted the newcomers. "Oh, beg pardon! It seems your other company has arrived."

"Lord Phantomhive!" Mr. Fairclough smiled blindingly. He picked up his pace to hurry and shake Ciel's hand in that ridiculously excessive way of his. He gestured behind him when he was through. "Mr. Goode was just about to take leave. You remember him, of course?"

Ciel nodded quickly. "O-Oh, of course! Good day, Mr. Goode," he said, holding his gaze steady and most likely trying not to appear shy. The last time Ciel had spoken to Mr. Goode, it was to apologize for yelling at the man's great aunt. Ah, how awkward this unexpected meeting had to be for the boy… Sebastian found himself with the sudden wish to make the conversation easier, somehow, but his position would in no way allow for that.

Fortunately, Mr. Goode had presented himself as a very understanding man in the past, and today it seemed it was no different. He made it over slightly after his friend, less hasty in his approach, and shook Ciel's hand much more normally. "Good to see you again again, Lord Phantomhive! I truly hope you are well," he greeted with all the chipper warmth of a potbelly stove. "Fairclough told me a little bit about this event you have coming up next month! It sounds very elaborate."

"I hope it will be exciting," Ciel agreed. He masked his trepidation well, though Sebastian could tell the boy was still feeling a tad uncomfortable. "Are you staying in London for the summer? If I'd known you were leaving Oxford, I would have been sure to send you an invitation for the Funtom event, too. Th-That isn't to say I should have been informed on your whereabouts, but the guest list is still being finalized, and you and Mrs. Goode are more than welcome to attend."

Mr. Goode opened his mouth to respond, but Mr. Fairclough cut him off with another loud laugh. "And were we not just discussing the verbosity of young people? Or rather, the lack of it! Of course you can count on Lord Phantomhive to be a cut above."

"Oh now come off it, you old codger, let's not embarrass your guest by making an example of him," Mr. Goode scolded amicably. He offered Ciel an apologetic smile. "You'll have to excuse us, we both deal in education. We may have been blowing off steam by jesting about the social shortcomings of junior students right as you arrived. Even our most convivial Fairclough finds them tricky."

"It is true, regrettably," Fairclough admitted. "I tend to engage with second, third, and fourth years most often, too. But there's nothing I can do about it. My clientele prefer to speak to younger students who have not been swayed by years of loyalty. They find them more honest."

"That's a small shame, I think," Mr. Goode added. "There is something so rewarding about talking with a student in their final year, when you're about to see them off into the world! So sharp-sighted and ready to take on anything, no longer held back by boyish insecurity. Your cousin, Lord Phantomhive, he's just what I mean. He was a prime example of what we look for in our prefects. Perfect attendance, perfect marks, perfect sportsmanship — an all-around good man. Always looking out for the younger boys. And I couldn't have been more proud to see the way he played for Weston at the Easter weekend cricket match. It will surely go down in school history as the day he bowled a hole in Fairclough's wallet!"

"My wallet is perfectly sound," Fairclough said, more to Ciel than to Mr. Goode. "The whole point was for it to be a competitive game. If my donation could convince the boys to play their hardest, I'm only happy to provide."

"You're too kind, my friend," Mr. Goode beamed. "Your donation put you in good standing with the rest of the school board, that's for certain! It's going to be great fun to work with you this year. We've been in the same field for so long now; it's about time our careers overlapped." He reached into his jacket and took out a smooth, unembellished pocket watch. "But I'm afraid now I must be going if I want to catch my train! And I know you both have an appointment to keep, so please don't let me delay you any further. As for that invitation, Lord Phantomhive, feel free to have one sent to my Oxford address, and if my wife and I will be in London then, I'll be sure to répondez vite, as they say in Fairclough's land. Au reservoir!"

Fairclough chuckled lightly and waved at Mr. Goode's departing back. "Farewell, my friend. I hope to see you again soon."

"G-Goodbye," Ciel offered too, then turned to Fairclough as the footman shut the door. "Au reservoir…?" he repeated with faint amusement.

Fairclough's mouth tilted up knowingly. "Dear Goode's French lacks some polish." He put a hand to his chin. "Perhaps I should have bid him 'welfare.'"

Ciel laughed slightly at that. Was it purely a polite laugh or had he actually enjoyed the quip? Sebastian couldn't see the boy's face to know entirely for sure.

Their host then greeted Ciel properly. "Well, it's very good to have you back at Sedgemore House, Lord Phantomhive! I've been looking forward to this visit immensely." With a glance, Fairclough finally gave Sebastian his first acknowledgment. "I see you've brought your secretary with you again, too."

Secretary, hm? Sebastian forced himself to bow. "Yes. Do excuse me, sir, but I'll be joining again this time. Though I assure you, I am no secretary. I am simply one hell of a butler."

"This is your butler?" Fairclough said, surprised. "He wears quite a few hats, I take it."

Without a look behind, Ciel reached a hand over his shoulder, and Sebastian passed the young master his pocket ledger and pencil. "And beneath all those hats he fancies himself a comedian. But he does have a few convenient little tricks that make him worth the nuisance. For instance, he can catalog the dimensions of any room simply by looking upon it once. I suppose you can see why that would be very useful to me today."

"Oh, incredibly useful," Mr. Fairclough agreed, twisting his body to continuously face his guest as Ciel strode forward into the enormous room's center and began to jot things down on the first spare page. "Erm, but I was thinking that before we got started with, well… whatever you need to record, perhaps we could take some lunch in the garden? I've just received a delivery of andouille de Vire from a friend in Normandy. You couldn't find a better black sausage if you scoured France from the English Channel to the Mediterranean Sea."

"Sorry, but I don't have time today." After a brief realization, Ciel paused his hand and turned over his shoulder. His eyes brightened and he smiled politely, clearly shifting his thoughts from the practicality of business and measurements to the tedium of social niceties. "My apologies, Mr. Fairclough. I'm afraid that planning for this Funtom event has fully occupied my schedule for nearly the rest of the month. Sharing lunch is the least of what you deserve for accommodating me today. But when it comes to my work, I have what one might refer to as a one-track mind; I scarcely even remember to keep up with my family once a week these days. After everything to do with the function is over, I promise to make it up to you with a proper visit."

Fairclough laughed boomingly. "A cut above indeed! But I understand your thought process all too well, Lord Phantomhive. I myself rarely mix business and pleasure. No matter, then; I'll make use of our hiatus to order a Maroilles mignon and a bottle of Gewürztraminer. Much as I'd love to tout another French wine to you, I can't deny the Germans have crafted an agreeable companion for this odd orange cheese."

Another wine. Could this man be more determined to know my ire firsthand…?

Ciel responded before turning back to his notebook, "It sounds like a treat. I look forward to it immensely."

Mr. Fairclough took a few steps closer to look over Ciel's shoulder. Sebastian decided he would take a few steps closer too. "What notes are you taking, if I may ask?" Fairclough ventured, his eyes flicking to Sebastian only for a second.

"I'm planning out how best to use the room," Ciel explained. He gestured with the end of his pencil at the two branching stairwells up to the second story. "I think it would be best to keep everything consolidated to the first floor, so I'm going to block those off strategically. On one side, I'm going to have a table where the Maharaja Bitter Rabbits are distributed. There, guests can have their invitations exchanged for one of the dolls. Actually, it might be quite eye-catching to have all three hundred of the dolls sitting on the steps, so that's another bonus…" Ciel scratched a quick note in the ledger. "As for the second stairwell, I plan to block it with a backdrop of the Taj Mahal, courtesy of my photographer friend, Mr. Pitt. Guests will be able to take pictures there alongside a display window–sized Maharaja rabbit and, if they like, with another friend of mine who just so happens to be an Indian prince."

"Really!" Mr. Fairclough enthused. "You're friends with a true Indian prince? How exciting that he'll be here!"

Ciel's entire body stiffened like it had been starched. "Eh, well, 'friend' may actually be a… very… strong term… for him… But he'll be here and no doubt be… enthusiastic. Anyway." Ciel coughed into his fist and turned around to face the front entrance. "Th-This room is very large, so we'll need at least two or three greeters to direct traffic. Maybe also someone in a mascot costume, so long as it won't cause crowding in the foyer. As for how to direct traffic…" Ciel strode over to a door along the east wall. "You told me in your letter that just off of this room are a small parlor, a ballroom with multiple entrances, and a drawing room. I think I want to take a look at those rooms before I make any more decisions about how to prepare the entrance hall."

Over the course of the next hour, each aforementioned room had been assigned an important role. Those roles fell into one of two camps: entertaining the toy-collecting crowd or entertaining all the noble acquaintances Ciel had not seen this summer.

The ballroom would be for the nobles. The space wouldn't be for dancing, however; this Funtom event was really more of a convention than a party. Even though Ciel planned for a string quartet to perform there, that was for the sake of creating a refreshing atmosphere and encouraging conversation. The open floor would be half-filled with tables and chairs for people to sit at while they ate Funtom's signature chocolate-curry buns, delivered freshly-made from the Sedgemore kitchens. The other half would be for people to mingle and listen to the music and regroup or locate their friends before deciding what they'd like to do next.

Ideally, some of these nobles might decide they wanted to learn about the auction, Ciel explained, but most of them would probably be more interested in seeing other parts of the manor. Lord Sedgemore had a sizable art collection, for instance. He was fond of the naturalism movement and had obtained a fair number of paintings from the Barbizon and Hudson River schools in particular — which Fairclough could appreciate, as he believed France was the pinnacle of all things high culture. The library was also very impressive, with two stories of literature from over twenty countries and a fireplace large enough to stand inside upright without bumping one's head.

The garden wasn't the massive, sprawling expanse of a countryside manor, but it did have a four-tiered cascading fountain and several statues and something called a pagoda tree that Lord Sedgemore had informed Fairclough tended to bloom in August. There was a terraced area, plus a lawn, that could be arranged to have more tables and catering for elevenses. Accompanying appetizers could include some of the Indian desserts Funtom one day hoped to produce, Ciel decided, though they would be freshly-made like the curry buns and not factory-produced. And another string quartet should be stationed out here too.

Then there was the real main event: the auction.

The drawing room was nearly the size of the ballroom, many-windowed with cream-colored walls and filled with plush furniture. The furniture would need to be moved elsewhere, Ciel explained, and replaced with numerous tables, stands, and easels that Funtom would provide for showcasing all the items to be auctioned. For the first hour, collectors would be directed to move around the room's perimeter in a clockwise formation to make decisions about what they'd like to bet on. The room would first feature design documents, perhaps, and move on to pieces from scrapped projects, prototypes of finished ones, ending the tour of goods with a display case in the room's center containing the four stages of the Maharaja rabbits. At every table, there would be an attendant recording the latest bids for each item on a chalkboard. The silent auctioning would start at noon and last for two hours, at the end of which the money would be collected by auction monitors and prizes would be distributed.

"I hear the auctions aren't usually too lively," Ciel mused, once they were back at their starting point, "but what do you think? Is there bound to be any fighting?"

"I think not," Fairclough chuckled, "though I don't doubt that animosity will be steep. Some collectors are as selfish as dragons when it comes to building their hoards, Lord Phantomhive, and rivalries can grow intense. You may want to stay away from the drawing room as the bidding winds to a close. Some desperate individual may try to persuade you to sell to him over another."

"You needn't say any more." Final observations made, Ciel tucked his pencil into a little sleeve attached to the leather binding of the notebook. "I've been warned by my team to be wary of those whose social graces may be diminished by overexcitement, as well as…" Ciel grimaced. "... the usual crop of people who find my age to be something of an anomaly."

Fairclough raised his eyebrows. "Oh? I wasn't aware such comments bothered you. Apologies if I ever made that more of a subject than it needed to be."

"I-I know that nobody means any harm by pointing it out," Ciel said, as if he felt he should assuage his host, "but at the same time, I have yet to understand what response is expected from me. I mean…" Ciel sighed. "I'm… I don't see myself as a child, so… I don't want to discourage anybody, but I'm not interested in agreeing with them either."

"That makes sense to me," said Fairclough. "Perhaps other boys would manage to still be a child at your age — but look at you. You run a company, for goodness sake! That is hardly something a child would be capable of."

"See, now that's exactly it!" Ciel said, pointing at Fairclough as if to emphasize what he'd said was just right. "You understand how it is. It's a shame no one else seems to be able to."

That isn't at all 'how it is,' Sebastian thought as loudly as he could in Fairclough's direction, and as a so-called adult yourself, I don't appreciate you entertaining this fantasy of the young master's.

"It is a shame," Fairclough agreed, "and a shame that you won't be able to stay for lunch. You're sure you have to be going then?"

"Yes, unfortunately." Now Ciel held out his hand, with a look on his face that Sebastian recognized as genuine appreciation. "But it's not forever. Once this event is done with, I'll have a clean calendar to fill as I see fit. Then you can guarantee I'll be back, and we'll finally have ourselves a proper tête-à-tête."

Fairclough ensnared the small hand in his own larger one. "I look forward to it immensely."

"Until then."

Fairclough let the boy move towards the front door before starting after him. Sebastian caught Fairclough's gaze on the man's way. There was an initial look of confusion shot Sebastian's direction, followed by unease, and at last perturbation, before Fairclough broke eye contact. Of course, it was completely inappropriate for a butler to ever stare down his lord's friends like that, let alone anybody, and was probably so awkward that Fairclough couldn't even bring himself to mention the glare he'd just received. But Sebastian did not regret his actions for an instant. Fairclough needed to think of him as an enemy. Of that Sebastian was very certain.

Sebastian wasn't sure if he would be able to keep his opinions at bay if Fairclough were to come up in conversation that night. But fortunately the man was never mentioned.

When Sebastian arrived at the office at eight-thirty, Ciel had the Maharaja prototype sitting on the desk in front of him, and there was an odd half-smile on his face. Sebastian mirrored it as he handed over the tea and asked, "Whatever do you have that look for?"

"I was just thinking about something sort of funny," Ciel said with the slightest huff of a laugh. He reached out to accept the tea but he kept his eyes on the toy. "I don't think I've eaten rabbit hardly at all since I started the Funtom company."

"I know you haven't for a fact," said Sebastian. Ciel turned to him and Sebastian added, "Do you not recall asking me never to purchase it for your table?"

Ciel shook his head, moderately surprised. "No, I don't. Did I really do that? That had to have been at the very start of our contract."

Sebastian nodded in remembrance. "Yes, you were still only ten years. You said that it wouldn't do for you to disrespect the animal you relied on to make a living by having it on your plate."

Ciel's gaze trailed off with an attempt to recall the memory. "I completely forgot about that." He laughed again, short and sharp. Took a drink. "And here I thought maybe you had just decided on your own not to buy it. Or maybe you'd picked up on the fact that I don't like to eat rabbit. Even though I don't remember feeling that way when I was only ten, it isn't any different now. It still wouldn't seem fair to eat one." He smoothed back one of the toy's long ears. "There's something sorry about killing a rabbit anyway. They're such gentle creatures. The Midfords used to keep a hutch of them, so Lizzie and I would sometimes hold the younger ones, even though we weren't supposed to. The rabbits fidgeted sometimes, but they never bit us. And they were so soft. There isn't any pride in killing something like that."

Another memory came to Ciel with a flash across his eye. "I remember during an afternoon visit, I was holding one of the rabbits and it slipped out of my arms… The Midfords kept their hutch in the stable, and the doors were open to the outdoors, so the rabbit escaped into the countryside. Lizzie and I couldn't even try to catch it, it was off like a hound… and Aunt Francis was sure to scold me for it. Despite that, I felt a bit excited, because I thought that the rabbit would join a warren and become like the wild ones. I thought I had given it an adventure." Ciel closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair with a comfortable grin, and took another sip from his cup. "But Edward explained to me that a domestic rabbit is nothing like a feral one. That it would die from starvation, alone in the dark woods, or be picked off by a hawk. And I felt so sorry then."

Ciel opened his eyes; the smile lost some of its mirth. "Even though it would have eventually been eaten by the Midfords, I felt like I had delivered the rabbit to its doom. So when I was deciding what sort of creature to make Funtom's mascot, maybe that's why I chose Bitter Rabbit. Maybe I still felt guilty, like I owed something to rabbitkind. As odd as that is to say out loud."

"Very interesting," Sebastian said when Ciel paused to drink once more. "At the time, your word on the matter was that you chose the animal that you imagined would make the least frightening companion for a young child."

"I think I remember saying that," Ciel admitted. "I think I chose a rabbit instead of a dog, too, because I imagined a rabbit wouldn't mind spending all day inside. And children who have to spend all day inside already feel sorry enough for whoever else has to stay inside with them." He tucked his lip over the rim of the cup and tipped his head back before realizing there was nothing left in the cup to tip back. "Oh... That went by so fast."

"You were talking more than usual, so I suppose you drank faster than usual, too." Sebastian smiled. "If our nightly meetings could always go so easily, perhaps we would both find the peace in them they are meant to provide."

"..." Ciel looked forward thoughtfully. "That did go pretty easily, huh…"

That was the meeting that completely transformed the rest of their nightly meetings for the next three weeks. Now, instead of talking about his day or his immediate feelings, as was Sebastian's initial proposal, Ciel chose to monologue about some small memory or thought that had happened to touch his brain. The boy always made sure that there was little space for an interlude, so that Sebastian had no choice but to listen.

Ciel talked about how this was the first year since the fire that his father's birthday had passed him by without a thought, at least not for a few days. He wanted to think that was a good thing. His father was dead, after all. There was no reason to commemorate it. Birthdays were sort of unimportant anyway. The only reason Ciel even cared to know his own date of birth was so that he could document exactly how long he'd been alive. But other people found it disturbing if you didn't care about your birthday, for whatever reason. Ciel didn't really see the logic in it. He didn't think his father would either, frankly.

He talked about how he didn't think there was a peaceful way to introduce Sysonby and Avalon; that Syson was sure to start picking on Avalon, but that Avalon didn't have the patience of Irish nor the strength of the cobs to withstand it. Would it be all right to let the horses fight, as long as no blood was drawn? To establish some pecking order, so that Syson's rage could finally be tempered? Ciel could still hear Syson screaming from time to time all the way in his office. It was as if the ebony horse were saying that if he couldn't have peace, nobody could. But Avalon least of all.

He talked about how Lizzie was so very energetic, that he struggled to keep up with her, and that it was a wonder she didn't find him incredibly boring. He wondered, blushingly, if she wasn't projecting her own ideas onto him of what she wanted in a husband. But maybe false appreciation was better than true disdain — a rule that applied chiefly to Lizzie, Ciel made sure to clarify, because only she had no choice but to be around him. With everyone else, he'd rather they cast off their delusions of him. It made it easier for him to trust them.

He talked about how he'd smelled the alcohol-and-lemon solution Sebastian had been cleaning the copper painting frames with and it reminded him of the bergamot perfume his mother had used to wear. The scent had apparently been the height of popularity when his mother was young, and she had always been somewhat anachronistic in her beauty standards, mainly because old things were familiar and she didn't see the need to constantly keep up with the more complex perfumes preferred by modern women of noble standing. Bergamot was perfectly good, his mother had claimed, and she was happy to be the last one left who wore it. At the very least, Ciel said, it did mean he immediately associated the citrus smell with her.

He talked about how he heard an owl outside his window last night, and how the sound used to frighten him when he was barely five years old, but now he wasn't really sure why it had. What had he anticipated an owl doing to him, especially beyond windows and walls? But then again, he'd been afraid of all sorts of things that didn't make any sense when he was little. He'd been afraid of a snail he'd found smashed and smeared on a paving stone by a gardener's boot. Perhaps he'd felt afraid because it was the first time he'd been confronted with death? But then somehow that had carried over into a fear of all paving stones. His parents began scooping him up anytime they encountered a stone walkway, because the four-year-old Ciel would step so slowly and deliberately on each one and would start to cry if rushed. Thank goodness he had gotten over it in another year, but how very embarrassing, wasn't it?

He talked about how he would like to have a dog again, but he felt that it would surely be shot if there were a home invasion and he wasn't about to put one in harm's way so easily. He talked about how he was really enjoying the writing of a Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, how he'd never read any other fiction that was so distinctly clever. He talked about how he quite liked rainy weather, actually, but only if he was able to stay inside all day and only if it didn't get too humid, because humidity made his hair unruly. He talked about outgrowing favored clothes, and a fascinating article he read about the uniqueness of fingerprints, and the way he used to hide in the dry-larder when the manor became this hot and wasn't it tempting to go do that right now.

In short, it seemed the young master did not mind discussions of the pleasant. He had just never had so many opportunities to engage in them.

At first, Sebastian had just let Ciel talk to his heart's content because it meant they weren't arguing and it meant Sebastian wasn't being criticized. But he began to understand, over time, that these ramble sessions were not without their merit.

Ciel enjoyed them. It was clear in his face. It was like a light beneath his skin, illuminating every inch of him, making him come alive in a way Sebastian had rarely seen before. Ciel wasn't talking to appease anyone but himself. He was losing his inhibitions. He was being coaxed into the clearing and feeling the sun on his back for the first time in quite a while.

And Sebastian? He scarcely said anything, other than an encouragement here or there to keep the boy speaking. He didn't want to say anything else. He wasn't sure he could. He was like a hunter finally looking at the fox he had thoughtlessly aimed a gun at for so long: at last recognizing that this little creature was really so full of life and joy and playfulness and wonder, but Sebastian had never known it, had never bothered to know it, because he had been so busy trying to plug its fleeing form with bullets…

But these were not discussions born entirely from innocence. Ciel was talking at length about all these little inconsequential things to avoid speaking on the delicacies of his deeper feelings, and Sebastian knew it. But Sebastian let it happen, because these ramble sessions had to be good for something. He could feel that they were. That was enough, wasn't it?

That was the point, wasn't it.

If their brief nightly meetings were carefree, the rest of the days were regimented and brimming full. Eventually, Ciel even had to tell a grumpy Lizzie that they would have to halt their weekly meetings for a while; all his spare time needed to be dedicated to Funtom's promotional exhibition. Every single aspect of the event needed Ciel's approval: the decorators, the caterers, the musicians, auction team, furniture, menus, advertising materials, invitation design, final guest list, each item that would be sold that day, and, of course, the Maharaja Bitter Rabbits' designs. But Ciel kept atop it without fail. His team was reliable, the boy claimed, and so everything would be seen to. Still, Sebastian knew that Ciel was apprehensive for all his efforts to finally come together so he could move on to less time-dependent projects.

Now it was the evening of the 31st. Instead of his usual upkeep of the manor, Sebastian had spent the day packing the young master's suitcases and preparing the staff for temporary independence. Tomorrow, he and Ciel were traveling to the London house so that Ciel could more easily spend his days directing all the various planning crews at Lord Sedgemore's manor. The event itself would take place on the 8th of August. The days leading up to it could be counted down to the single digits now.

They'd leave first thing in the morning and dive right into work. But for now, the day was winding to its end, and all that was left to do was have milk tea and get ready for bed. Sebastian was heading to the office now. He took the steps two at a time and trotted his way down the darkening hall. His feet stopped on their own when the stray words touched his ear.

"Oh... I see… I thought these nightly meetings were all your idea, sir. Clearly I misunderstood what was happening."

It was Tanaka's voice, gentle, slow, a bit sad, that Sebastian heard on the other side of the office door. When the elderly man spoke next, his locution was as crisp as ever. "In that case, I must say that I agree with Mr. Sebastian, sir. I think he has made a bold but necessary decision in approaching you."

Ciel gave a disparaging laugh. "Listen… You don't know what you're really saying."

"I know what I mean to say," Tanaka continued calmly, "which is that I believe you need this. You are still very young…"

"I don't 'need' anything. Other than for everyone in this house to do their jobs and leave me well alone."

Tanaka's responding sympathy was nothing like a beast. "Sir, that simply isn't true. You have many needs, as do we all… And I worry that some of yours aren't being met. I haven't spoken up in all this time because… I did not think it was my place. But I feel lately that I am considering a new perspective on duty. A house steward should never meddle in his master's personal life, it is true. But shouldn't an adult worry about a child they care for? Is that not my duty as a person on this earth? That is what I have been wondering, sir, and that is the conclusion I believe Mr. Sebastian has reached."

"You couldn't be farther from it," Ciel growled. "Sebastian's motivations are… nothing like what you imagine. And I prefer it that way. I'm not interested in being treated like a child. I'm not a child. I'll forgive it, because you've told me before that at your age, anyone younger than thirty years is like a child to you, but I simply don't see myself as one, nor do I act like one. You are a house steward. You have no duty to me beyond that. And I certainly don't want you to feel compelled to have any beyond that." Ciel paused for a moment. "It was… different, when I really was a child, and… don't think I'm not grateful, for all the time you spent keeping me company and playing with me; that was far outside what your position should have entailed… But I don't need you to be anything other than my steward any more. Obviously. I haven't needed it since I became Earl."

"If that is so, sir, then why do you not dismiss Sebastian, since you are so opposed to speaking with him about personal matters?" Tanaka's voice remained an untouched pond, calm, serene, its surface marred by not even a single ripple of malice. "Do you feel incapable or frightened of doing so on your own?"

"Of course not! I'm not… No!" Ciel's pond was alive with the thrashing of the creatures that lived in its depths. He took a deep breath; the creatures settled, or at least settled enough. "It's too complicated, I… won't ask you to understand. I have my reasons for everything that I do. Those reasons go far beyond what they appear to be. Maybe it seems that I'm speaking with Sebastian because I'm looking for support from… someone… older than myself. But I promise you: there is nothing I want less than that."

"... As you say, sir." There was a wordless moment where perhaps Tanaka had bowed. "I know Sebastian will be coming soon to serve your tea… So I will take my leave. But… should you ever decide that you no longer wish to speak with Sebastian about that which troubles you… please remember that I am always available to be that person. It was an enormous breach of etiquette for me to say all that I have… and perhaps I am taking advantage of our storied history, which I must apologize for… but there are times in life when I believe we must say uncouth things for the sake of being able to live with ourselves."

Ciel made an annoyed hiss from between his teeth. "Yes, I know that. I know what you're saying, about duty and not duty, and… all that, even if you think I don't, and… it's very… kind of you to care about me, right, but it's really not my job to want to be cared for or especially to be someone who can be cared for. Is that understood? So don't talk about this with me ever again. You're entirely correct that this conversation is an enormous breach of etiquette, and I would really hate to have to speak to you like an earl should speak to an out-of-line servant."

Tanaka didn't miss a beat. "And I would so hate to put you in that position, sir. Thank you for listening to all that I had to say. I bid you a pleasant evening."

Sebastian was still rooted to the spot when Tanaka closed the office door quietly behind him. He smiled at Sebastian as he passed by, seeming not at all surprised that the butler was already there. He walked down the stairwell Sebastian had just tread. Several distant chimes for half past the hour went off throughout the manor.

Sebastian knocked on the office door. There was no answer from the other side. Sebastian entered.

The boy was slumped slightly in the large plush armchair that was meant to be a replica of his father's. In this moment, the back of the chair seemed to dwarf the boy even more so than usual, reminding Sebastian of the ten-year-old he'd just begun to serve all those years ago. This expression, too, was reminiscent of the younger Ciel: it was the face he'd used to make when Sebastian brought him another stack of papers at what was supposed to be the end of a long work day. Ciel would stare at Sebastian with wary, angry, pleading eyes that seemed to say Not more. Not now. And Sebastian would raise his brows and plop the papers in front of the child. Yes, more. Yes, now, he'd imply back, and then display his fangs when he grinned, delighting at a human who'd perhaps bitten off more than he could chew.

The demon that was summoned and the Sebastian of today were hardly even of the same blood.

From far across the room, Ciel stared briefly at Sebastian with basset hound eyes before shifting his gaze. "I didn't say you could come in," he mumbled powerlessly.

Sebastian didn't respond to that. Instead, he lifted the tea cup off its saucer, placed it elsewhere on the tray, and then used the saucer to cover the top of the cup to trap the heat inside. "Since it seems my lord has already had his nightly meeting," Sebastian began, "I thought I might propose taking your tea in the bath instead. It might just be the sort of relaxing activity you need after working so hard this month."

"... Mm. Sure." As Sebastian expected, Ciel didn't have any fight left in him. He was worn out, physically and emotionally. He stood up and walked past Sebastian out of the office without looking at him. Sebastian followed dutifully behind until they made it to the bedroom.

The bathroom was cold tile and colder marble, no invitation to bare skin. Sebastian went about changing that. He let the water gush into the tub from the golden faucet, a pipe-shaking geyser burst, so white-hot it nearly matched the porcelain walls of the basin. By the time Ciel stepped into the room, Sebastian had adjusted the water to a withstandable temperature, but the air still swirled with steam. Ciel glanced around at it dully as he was undressed. Then he sat in the half-filled tub. He pulled his legs in close.

Sebastian lowered the cup of milk tea to him along with a small towel. "Dry your hands and be careful not to drop the glass now," he said. Ciel accepted wordlessly and drank.

The boy was so tired. Not sleepy (Sebastian wouldn't have given Ciel the cup then), but simply tired. So much on his mind, so much he pushed down as deep as he could. Sebastian hoped that the comfort of heat and water might lift some of those abused thoughts to the surface. But Ciel didn't say anything yet. He only finished his tea as Sebastian dissolved castile soap shavings and sweet almond oil in a bowl of warm water.

There were so many things they had yet to fully unearth: Ciel's panic at the end of the last mission; the anxiety he suffered after speaking with Lyle Reubin most recently; the truth behind what Ciel wanted to say to Soma about his sensitivity to touch. And the practical parts, the demon parts, of Sebastian told him that that was wrong, that he should be trying harder to nudge this elusive information into the light where it could be properly dissected. But another part of Sebastian said to wait. To be patient. To listen. So he had. And so Ciel seemed to speak much more readily these days.

That result had been unexpected. And yet, Sebastian knew he finally understood. Human emotions were perhaps not things meant to be torn out of hearts, stretched across sterile trays, and peeled apart layer by layer with scalpels. Perhaps they were things eased like shy foxes from dens.

"I have to apologize to him," Ciel said quietly as Sebastian drizzled the newly-made shampoo over his head.

Sebastian rubbed the lather into the scalp. "You will," he said simply. "You will."

Ciel only hunched his arms deeper into his stomach. "It used to be so easy for me not to think about anything I didn't want to think about. Or at least to keep it to myself. But everything's heightened lately. I can't just use my work to distract the feelings away. And then everyone notices how angry I am, you, and Tanaka, maybe even my aunt and uncle, and… and I don't want to be treated any differently than before, but maybe this is what I deserve for being so obvious." He put a hand to his forehead. "Maybe so much is wrong with me and I don't even realize it because I don't want to. But everyone else sees it immediately, and it makes me feel like something on display. I hate it so much."

Sebastian scratched his fingers through slate-colored strands. "It's all right to hate it when others wish to help you." He smirked. "I, too, hate to be 'helped' at anything. Perhaps we both need to consider changing our thinking."

"We are changing the way we think. And act. The both of us." Ciel turned his head just slightly to glare over his shoulder. "And in your case, I don't really understand why."

Sebastian didn't have an answer. So he only stared back. Ciel eventually, finally, turned his gaze away. "Whatever. I don't have time to worry about that right now. And I'm not about to put up an objection to all of it, considering you're less annoying than usual. I only know that something's got to be wrong with you if you've finally gotten sick of your own voice."

Sebastian chuckled. "So, that's the thing that concerns you the most?"

Ciel looked at him again with his contract eye. "Are there greater concerns I should have?"

"No." Sebastian was surprised at how quickly he said it — and how reassuringly. Like he knew something he wasn't even fully aware of knowing. He finished sudsing up the boy's hair and reached for the sponge to wash his back. "No. There isn't anything you need to worry about."

Ciel leaned forward. "If you say it so quickly, people won't believe you, you know. Even I'm almost inclined not to believe you. Thank God I thought to make it a rule that you can't lie, it's given me peace of mind more times than I can count…"

There was nothing for Ciel to worry about, apparently. Was there anything for Sebastian to worry about? He was tired of considering that there was. So he didn't. He finished washing Ciel's back and handed Ciel the sponge to wash the rest while he prepared the pitcher to rinse Ciel clean, and the soft, fresh towels to wrap the boy up in, and the clean nightclothes that still smelled like summer's breath, and the bed with the white sheets that would be pleasantly cool against skin still flushed pink from the bath, even after all the time spent mussing wet hair dry and ascertaining that teeth were brushed to crystal cleanliness.

When Ciel lay down on those sheets, the only light left was from the paraffin lamp at his bedside. If he liked, he could use the light to read a bit before going to sleep, though Sebastian reminded, "Tomorrow, we'll be leaving for London shortly after breakfast. There will be even more to do after that, so I suggest turning in early so you can be well-rested for a busy day."

"Mm." Ciel blinked at him from the pillow. His face was thoughtful but otherwise unreadable. "Sebastian?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Your reason for wanting to talk to me each night is different from Tanaka's, right?" Ciel asked. "I know you intend to be a… resource to me or something, so that we don't have so many disagreements. But it's only temporary, the same as being my butler, isn't it? You're still interested in eating my soul?"

Sebastian almost laughed and instead gazed at the boy with a sort of strange amusement. Ciel clearly wanted Sebastian to answer in the affirmative, as if that would bring Ciel the 'peace of mind' he so desired. Never has there been a more intriguing contract. "Yes, young master. The nature of our arrangement hasn't changed. I am still quite interested in devouring that soul of yours."

Ciel smiled and nodded. "Good." He rolled over so he was facing away. "You can blow out the light then. I'm going straight to sleep." And, as Sebastian was leaving the room, added, "And don't forget to pack my favorite pillow tomorrow morning. I'll be cross if you have to come back for it and someone notices."

Sebastian smirked in the darkness. "I'll be sure to, sir. Goodnight."

It hadn't been intentional, but Ciel had just gifted Sebastian peace of mind, too. Of course Sebastian could play surrogate and still be a killer; hadn't he done just that as a butler already? The young master really was so clever. Reminding a demon that he was a demon… just as a fox never forgets a hunter. Sebastian smiled, content in the knowledge that he could become a hunter, a demon, again whenever it suited him. Yes, whenever it suited him… whenever that would be… it would be easy, ever so easy, when the time came to end the boy's life…

Satisfied, Sebastian went about his nightly duties with the unharried mien of a well-fed cat. This good mood was only spoiled a few hours later when he saw the letter in the servant's office addressed to him from that awful Undertaker. His lip curled at it. He wanted nothing more to do with this… individual, who may or may not be stronger than Sebastian himself. But Undertaker had made it clear that he wasn't afraid to blackmail Sebastian and reveal their secret meetings to Ciel. So Sebastian ripped open the envelope as unceremoniously as he could and read:

My dear butler,

It seems we have found ourselves at a crossroads…

The molar of yours has certainly been quite revealing! I felt rather like a dentist examining a deep, painful cavity… But I'm afraid the cause of the rot isn't so sweet.

You are riddled with foreign magic. That is to say, magic that is not of your own creation. The magic is weak, but there is so much of it inside you that mutation will soon be inevitable.

Mutation into what, you might be wondering? I cannot say for sure. All I can guess is that it will be a creature entirely dedicated to Lord Phantomhive's survival, given the way you have already begun to change.

Other than the boy and possibly myself, I cannot guess who would benefit from this transformation. It does make me look awfully suspicious, doesn't it…? Well, I cannot possibly hope to convince you of my innocence, so I won't even begin to try. But, as I've said before, it isn't me who is inflicting this magic upon you. I can only keep up my research and hope a better answer is available soon.

As for the crossroads I mentioned at the beginning of the letter… I have a hypothesis that I feel will be a very difficult drought for you to swallow.

Remember our discussion of Scheele's green? As so many were once poisoned by their own wallpaper, I believe you too are being cursed by something of apparent innocence… or someone. The someone you spend more time around than anyone else… that would be Lord Phantomhive, yes? Well, it is only a thought, but I do wonder if a curse has been laid upon him in order to infect you.

Yes, it is only a thought… but it is a frightening one. One that should give you much food for thought. For now, perhaps you should consider only spending time around Lord Phantomhive when it is absolutely necessary. Any additional time could increase the risk of your being irreversibly poisoned.

If it came to it, who would you choose, butler? The boy or yourself?

Hehehe… Good luck!