001 ♞ that butler, overworked and underpaid

[xthecorvus]

Who: Ciel and Sebastian
When: Backdated to after this trainwreck
Where: The location of said trainwreck.
Style: Starting in third but I'll follow you, Allie, dear~
Status: closed



This entire kerfluffle started early this morning. Right after breakfast, his young master had suddenly declared the need to wander off and that was that. Before Sebastian could say anything in protest, much less prepare his charge's usual coat and hat, he was out the door without so much as a by your leave. Of course, the butler had been busy with preparations for elevenses and hadn't been able to stop him in time. (Though after a split second of thought, it wasn't a complete waste. Emily was more than happy to lap up her share of egg salad and cream from that.)

No matter how strong their contract was or how likened the blasted pull was to a near accurate GPS, Sebastian always seemed to be at least one step behind. For once, the white rabbit was chasing Alice... and not the other way around.

But their chase had finally come to an end when he'd pinpointed his very young lord right in the park amongst the ruins of what seemed to be a rather sloppily put together tea party. It struck him as strange, seeing his right and proper master slumped over in a chair and asleep out in public. The demon's senses however told the tale faster than any questions could. There was a distinct scent of tea (Earl Grey, English Breakfast and... Assam?) coupled with a surprising taint of alcohol. Brandy. Of the seaworthy variety. With a sigh and a shake of his head, the butler approached the slumbering boy to place a hand on his shoulder.
"My lord? This is hardly the time or place for you to be sleeping. Best you wake." he finally murmured, lightly shaking the young earl's shoulder.

Comments

[pactum]

That smile is probably worse, in fact. With a 'tch' under his breath and a scowl which is slightly more pronounced than he would normally give, he looks very pointedly away from Sebastian, even as he listens to the demon's explanation. Even in this state, Ciel can tell that he isn't...right.

"I'll bet it was that damned brat," says this damned brat, "the one who said he was 'lord of the Netherworld' or some other such rubbish. Can you believe that, Sebastian? As if such a person could exist!" Huff huff. But since getting home actually doesn't sound like a bad idea, he's allowing Sebastian to help him along, however, though his feet--in their shiny little mary-janes--are still unsteady beneath him. He leans heavily against Sebastian, though still doesn't look directly at him.

[xthecorvus]

He'd walked alongside Ciel long enough to know that no matter the circumstance, his master was never a leaner. A quick glance over in his direction was more than enough a hint as to how inebriated the boy was. Terrible shape, if his staggering was any indication. So what else was a butler to do but to provide ample service to his lord? He waits for that little declaration to come to an end however before crouching down and picking him up, choosing instead to carry him bridal-style as he began his way back to their manor.

Of course, though his smirk isn't exactly visible, it's there as expected. It seems the company Ciel had kept in the day was worth looking into. Quite ironic in its makeup if his words were anything to go by or alcohol induced ramblings. Ever heard the term "tipsy as a lord?"

"Lord of the Netherworld, you say?" he begins, a pause to consider this a moment. Vatheon had its share of surprises, alternate words apart from their own. Somehow, there was something to surprise him yet. "We find ourselves acquainted with a young boy who calls himself the King of Bel and yet I can't bring myself to believe such a title exists. Perhaps being the Lord of the Netherworld isn't so lofty a thought to begin with."

[pactum]

Correct. If possible, Ciel much prefers to walk under his own power--and to maintain perfect posture while doing so. The fact that he's relying so heavily on Sebastian's support is an indication that something is very off--so it's likely best that Sebastian carry him, anyway. Even if Ciel doesn't seem to think so. "Sebastian, I can manage," he protests, and can't help but look at his butler with the way he's positioned now. Still, his arms loop around Sebastian's neck like it's an automatic reaction.

"Of course it doesn't exist. He was clearly daft. He was a sodding idiot and it is his fault that I can hardly see straight and--" He cuts himself off abruptly, only to settle a glare at his rabbit-eared butler. "--and it is your fault, too, for making such God-damned perfect tea. How would you expect me to know if something's been tampered with? What if it had been something worse than alcohol? What if it had been poison? Your negligence could have killed me!"

Apparently, Ciel is a talkative drunk. Although it should be noted that his words--while certainly more superfluous--are as crisp and clear as ever, with no audible sign of slurring. In fact, he sounds more purposeful than usual.

[xthecorvus]

Carrying his lord wasn't exactly time honored tradition. If anything, Ciel was a proud young thing and refused help when it was so easily offered to him. Even when he so obviously needed it. However Sebastian was never the type to coddle his lord. If something needed to be done then good lord, would it ever despite the constant protests. One look would be all he got from that simple protest, perhaps he'd seen it before. It came before a lecture about humans being weak things and succumbing to injuries and festering wounds. Thankfully, his arms situated themselves in place and no more was said about it. Now, it was just a matter of carrying him back to the manor, possibly a hot shower, light supper and bed.


He allows the boy to ramble though he says nothing to the statements. If anything, they're giving him material to work with. Certainly, the payback would be high come morning, thanks to an impending hangover and perhaps one of those situations wherein everything was strange, everything hurt and there would be complaints all around. But it would be worth it. "If you hadn't wandered off so this morning, young master, then perhaps I could have accompanied you and this entire fiasco could have been avoided." he begins, managing the smallest smile which in turn curls into a bit of a smirk.

"However, I wasn't aware my lord thought of my tea as perfect. I'm flattered. Come quite a long way from brown water."

[pactum]

"Perhaps I didn't want to have to look at that damned smirk all day," is Ciel's prompt and catty response, his glare appropriately timed. "Honestly, having you around all of the time is so tiresome." He glances away from Sebastian's face to look at their surroundings instead. They're going 'home.' It isn't home, but it's where he lives here. Ciel is still so unfamiliar with this place that he hardly recognizes any of the things they're passing by--especially not in his current state. He feels small and uninformed. He hates it. His thin fingers curl tight around the collar of Sebastian's tail coat, and the muscles of his arms tighten, lock more firmly around his neck. His grip is strong because he needs to reassure himself that he has control over something. He does. Over himself. Over Sebastian. As long as he has those two things, he knows he'll be all right.

"You are my butler. Of course it's perfect," he scowls, still not looking at the demon. "But only because I was there to tell you when it was terrible. Your tea service only improved with my help. But that's only to be expected. You were an absolutely rubbish butler--everything you cooked too salty and the bath too hot. You knew nothing when you first came to me. You are perfect now because I made you so."

The toes of his mary-janes click as they tap together. They're so shiny Ciel can almost see his reflection in them. It reminds him of the curved outsides of silver spoons at home, which Sebastian polishes until he can see himself in them, like a tiny funhouse mirror.

"Do you really understand humans at all, Sebastian?"

[xthecorvus]

His lord's state of sobriety (or lack thereof) was new. He knew the boy had it in him to give in when faced with a considerable amount of alcohol but what the demon hadn't prepared himself for was the fact that his master was a rather chatty drunk. Chatty and without a single control over his faculties. Surely, this promised to be a night worth remembering despite the fact that he would sorely pay for it in the morning by way of a cranky young master who would most likely refuse to get out of bed. The tightened grip only made that insufferable smirk only grow just the slightest bit wider. A futile attempt to wrest control but it was quite obvious as to who held the upper hand at this moment.

"Doubtless you would be the fine young earl you are now were it not for my tutiledge." he chuckled, in payment for that statement. "Just a boy then, when we'd first met; indless of his tasks, unable to translate even the most simple of statements, hardly able to remain on a horse for more than half a minute."

But his taunts carried no malice. They were simple facts, as it was true that he was hardly a butler to carry the name Phantomhive when they'd started out. It was due to their mutual effort, their mutual learning from each other that they became as they presented themselves in public so perfectly: Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaels, the Earl of Phantomhive and his loyal butler.

The question however, draws his attention and kills the smirk ever so slightly. It gets replaced by a measure of thoughtfulness in his brow and causes the butler to shift his hold ever so slightly to draw the boy closer against him. "My understanding of humanity comes from past years of experience. Living amongst them, sampling souls here and there, seeing them through their petty wishes, selfishness and shallow joys. But humans are humans. Why do you ask, my lord?"

[pactum]

Woah there, Sebastian. Ciel can remind you of your past shortcomings, but when you start listing his, there's going to be a problem. A problem consisting of Ciel scowling at his butler, scrutinizing his expression, and then intoning, quite primly, "Shut up." All right, maybe not so much of a problem. But if Sebastian's tone of voice had been even slightly condescending, there would have been. For now, he just doesn't want to hear any more of it.

However, there is an outburst forthcoming, as of course the one thing in Sebastian's explanation that Ciel's addled minds chooses to concentrate on is, "You think my wish is petty?" Oh, you did not, Sebastian. You did not. "My desire for revenge is my reason for existing. The assurance that one day I will be able to make those pigs suffer as I did is the only reason I am here alive today. If you think that so petty then I suppose you must like the taste of pettiness then, don't you? Because that is the very core of me, Sebastian. That hatred. That loathing. The thirst for vengeance." A terse word or two on this particular subject is typically all he'll utter in a normal situation; but now that he's started, he just keeps going, his visible eye steely with determination.

"You do not know humans nearly so well as you seem to think you do. Back then, you did not understand at all what I needed." Plus, the way he'd acted initially had been anything but tactful and reassuring. "And who is to say that your wishes are not just as petty, your joys just as shallow? You may be a demon, but you and I are not so far removed as you would like to think. Given that you feed on humans, you must see them as little more than cattle. But could mere cattle look you in the eye and speak to you as I am now? I care not at all for your opinions of others. But you have chosen me, and you are mine, and I will have your respect. I will wrest it from you by force if need be. But I am no animal, unless you are content to serve a calf."

[xthecorvus]

Somehow, he expected nothing less from the boy he served. The alcohol perhaps had managed to loosen his tongue, break his inhibitions, make his mind all the more tantalizing a dish on which to pick at. This was but another one of their games, though this round was far pricklier than the usual. They'd never gone to this depth before. Not this vein of conversation.

Alright, so petty had been a poor choice of word but truth be told, it was the first word that came to mind. He had seen those shallow wishes. They seemed to plague the hearts and minds of ordinary beings. But Ciel Phantomhive was indeed, no ordinary being. "Your own wish is hardly petty, master." he began, glancing back at the road as he turned the corner. "Far from it. Yours was the most interesting I've heard in centuries. There have been those who clamor for fame, love, wealth beyond their imagination... and then there's you. You who have been cloaked in the velvet blackness of bitter venegeance at an age when most would hardly consider such a thing. "

He pauses at this. Just in order to open the gate.

"I find no pettiness in that... but one tends to jump to conclusions after several centuries of observation." he continued with a breath, shutting the gate behind them as he began to cross the courtyard. His master suffice to say, was no mere calf. Though most humanity could have gone and sodded themselves off for all he cared, somehow, this boy, this human who had barely scratched the surface of what it meant to live had managed to surprise him at every turn. With his reactions, his thoughts, his rather stubborn goals. Even conversation like this was hardly what he was expecting.

And without another word, he set his master down by their front door and set about the business of unlocking it and stepping aside to allow the earl in.

[pactum]

Ciel is at least marginally placated by the way Sebastian had rescinds his statement. He's still frowning, but it's more of a complacent frown than an angry one. "You would do well to think more carefully before you speak, Sebastian." He admonishes firmly. "I would hate for a poorly-chosen word on your part to reflect badly on me a second time. Should you make such a blunder again, it only stands to reason that your scolding would be twice as harsh."

He slides from Sebastian's arms easily when he's deposited on the doorstep, standing remarkably straight. Apparently he's able to keep on his feet provided he doesn't actually attempt to walk. It's then that he asks something which he would not dare voice so blatantly were his tongue not feeling so uninhibited: "Do you respect me, Sebastian?"

As he asks, he's simply looking up at Sebastian--a boy of only thirteen, barely five feet tall, wearing a skirt a skort bloomers and a pinafore with a lopsided bow on his head, and still hopelessly tipsy. And yet he stands with authority, speaks with purpose, and commands a demon as if he were born to do so.