The manor was bustling with activity as the servants tried to get everything set up under Ciel's watchful eye. In his right hand, he held Bard's flamethrower. In the other was his walking stick. A nervous tick pulled his face into a grimace as he constantly scoured the area for something else to fix. He wanted everything to be perfect when Aunt Francis finally arrived.
An image of her stone cold eyes and displeased expression - one might even call it disgusted - as she pointed out every little flaw surfaced in front of Ciel's eyes, and he groaned, dropping his head into the hand holding his cane.
He was constantly trying to impress her, trying to prove he was fit to be the head of a mysterious household he himself only halfway understood. Would it ever be as flawless as she wanted? What were her standards anyway? Ciel had never tried to please anyone he met.
"Why don't ya take a rest? You look a bit green." Baldroy asked from the kitchen, and Ciel snapped his attention back to the task at hand. Trusting the chef wouldn't run over and nab his flamethrower, the earl made his way into the kitchen, pleased to not be choking on acrid smoke as he walked in. Sebastian was sitting on a stool, his face pale, holding a pot between his legs. Ciel would have rolled his eyes at Baldroy's use for a pot if this was any other situation. All the other servants didn't seem to know what was going on, so that was good.
Seeing Ciel, Baldroy motioned for him to take his place as he went back to stirring the broth, wafting the scent around the stained, sooty walls. Courtesy of the same oversized torch Ciel himself had taken away earlier. Walking over, Ciel tried to help Sebastian stand up, having to reach hurriedly for the pot and place it under Sebastian as he did so, nearly losing his balance.
end for right now
