His Butler, Faithful

Regarding Trust... Grell's Late-Night Job

April walked with her arm linked through Sebastian’s. He was leading her to one of the Phantomhive carriages, which would take her to her new home. The butler had taken the liberty of carrying her luggage, but she had a suspicion it was because Amber was tucked in the basket she’d tied to the handle of her suitcase.

Today she wore a dismal gray day dress which mirrored the London sky. A gray frock coat was draped over her, and she made sure to wear her warmest boots and gloves. She touched the bonnet on her head, making sure it was secure, then trailed her hand down her usual braid.

“Because we have hired you as head maid,” said Sebastian, “your accommodations in the servants’ quarters will be a bit better than those of the other help.”

“Thank you, Mister Sebastian,” she said softly. “But I must say this now, before you get the wrong idea about me.”

“Hmm?” 

“I do not trust you.” She looked up at him, but his expression remained impassive.

“That is fine, Miss Phillips,” he said, his mouth still pulled in that devilish grin.

“You do not trust me?” 

The two stopped, and Sebastian allowed the driver to put the luggage in the back, where Amber mewed and jumped into April’s arms. As soon as he helped her into the carriage and shut the door behind him, he sat down across from her and narrowed his eyes. “No, I suppose I do not trust you either,” he agreed.

She examined his face. “It is because I barely know you, and your appearance does not give me any reassurance. You have the face of a most untrustworthy, unfaithful man. And it is because of that smile you seem to wear so often that I do not wish to ever trust you.”

Sebastian, unfazed by her statement, nodded. “And I do not trust you because of your expression either. Surely a woman such as yourself would have a better time showing her emotions. Yet every time I see you, you look uncaring and apathetic.”

“Then we are on equal grounds concerning our feelings for each other?” she said, folding her hands in her lap.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled. “For even though I do not trust you, I can’t help but admire you slightly.”

April looked away from him and out of the carriage window. “Hmm, I suppose we are not on equal grounds then.”

Grell Sutcliff sat upon the rooftop, gazing down at the man he desired climb into the carriage after that woman. “If only I, myself, was female,” he clucked, stroking his long red hair. “I have glasses like she does. Our hair colors are not much different- in fact, mine is far more vibrant than hers- yet what does my Sebastian darling see in her that he doesn’t see in me?” He pouted and laid his “scythe” (which was really just a chainsaw) slackly next to him.

He pondered when the next time he would see his lover again (though, in Grell’s case, the feelings were unrequited. Sebastian didn’t much care for his existence). “Well,” the Reaper said to himself, “I believe in Romeo & Juliet Romeo was engaged when he met Juliet. Love knows no boundaries! He may be with this woman now, but that does mean he does not love me!” Grell sighed to himself. “He looks so beautiful in red.”

A high-pitched scream broke out through the night, startling Grell from his reverie. “Oh,” he giggled, “that must be the next victim on my list.” The Reaper’s list appeared in his hand, showing the next soul he was supposed to reap. “Ah, another little girl,” he clucked. “What a horrible age at which to die. You don’t get to experience all the fine rewards of being a woman, like marrying for example.”

He stood up and shook out his scythe, grinning to himself. “I mustn’t dally now. I am on probation, after all.” With that, he became nothing but a shadow in the night as he made his way to Ciel’s newest stress regarding the Fairy Tale Murder case.

Meanwhile, London slept on, oblivious.