Horologe ⚚ [Maximum Ride/Black Butler]

Chapter VII

Double update just cause!! >w<
Enjoy!
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With that, I released his tie, lightly pushing the dark-haired man back along the way, and walked off towards the brat's desk area, which was full of piles upon piles of misc. paperwork and this plate full of pastries.

Pretty much immediately, I tore away at the display; mouth-watering tarts and thickly-layered chocolate cake slices and other similar delicious, heart-attack-inducing things practically getting shovelled down my throat. I probably looked disgusting, eating like that.

But hey, at least I have a (somewhat) decent excuse to eating like a total pig, being a starved, growing, bird kid who needs thousands upon thousands of calories per day and all. I was worn out, hungry, injured, and even more hungry. My stomach was probably hosting some tumbleweeds, it was so freaking empty.

Sebastian and the little blue haired kid were sending extremely disturbed looks my way, and I gave them the exact same treatment the other way around.

"The hell are you looking at? You expect me to friggen starve to death or something?" I snapped in their direction, mouth absolutely full of raspberry tart jelly. Some was even leaking from the corners of my chapped lips, crumbs spewing all over the place. A mucho-appetizing sight, I know. "I didn't eat for like, a jillion days, assholes."

"...That is my dessert, I'll have you know," the Earl just stated hotly. "I don't exactly appreciate you bloody stealing it all."

I quirked a brow, the plate having been just then licked clean. My taste buds felt like they died, went to heaven, and were then reborn as the absolute best shit of the earth.

"Oh, do you still want some? I think I can barf a little bit up for you, wait just one moment." I then started making strangled choking noises, much to the other's absolute shock and horror, only to soon be stopped by Sebastian putting up a hand.

"That won't be necessary," the adult informed, with a (rather bitchy) smile. "I'm afraid I'd rather have my intestines clawed out by feral sabre wolves than allow the young master to consume such a repulsing, filthy excuse for a meal. He'll surely catch illness."

I folded my thin arms over my chest, snorting. "Do you guys like, not understand sarcasm or something? There's no way I'm gonna hurl up my breakfast just because Patchy the Pirate over here asked for it. That was delicious." I gave a loud burp. "Can I have some more?"

Patchy's eyelid twitched, lips not even bothering to form a smile. "So you liked it, hm? Well then, submit to my questioning, and you shall have as much bloody food as you please."

Ok, trying to get some answers out of me by torture, blackmail? Insulting the feathery fluff out of me? Now that simply doesn't do. But offer Max the Great and Stubbornful some food, and bam, you got that girl good.

"Sure thing, kiddo," I said immediately. "Fire away. I'm all ears."

Sebastian looked completely baffled by our little exchange, since I was giving them all such a monstrously hard time before (him especially), and now, after being bribed with some edibilities, I was acting like a freaking saint. Well, or at least as saintly as it's physically possible for me to get. Which isn't much.

"Alright then," the lithe male began, eyes drilling into my soul. "Tell me, why and what were you doing last night, passed out and bleeding all over my good lawn?"

I digested that. "Ok. Well, the truth is, last night, I was strapped into this totally wacked-up machineamabobber, and if it worked, I'd get sent back to like, dinosaur times or something. If it didn't work, I'd be blown up to smithereens. Here's what I'm thinking: I was blown up to smithereens, and now this here, whatever this is, is some sort of twisted British purgatory shit that I have to go through 'cos of all the cars I high-jacked and people I killed and y'know, stuff. Kapeesh?"

"Preposterous!" the other immediately declared, shouting. "Absolutely preposterous! What you're proposing is the possible existence of what seems to be a time machine, which has been proven to be utterly impossible, I'll have you know. You're barking mad, you are!"

"Well so-rry. You asked for the truth, and I gave you it," I said. "Can I have my food now?"

"No!" The Earl briskly stood up, and I snickered at how short he was. I'm sorry, I just, I can be really height-judgemental sometimes, growing up in a family full of beanpoles and all. C'mon, he was like an ant compared to me, it was hilarious. "I'm not finished with you yet!"

I groaned loudly, my short attention span just about used up. "But I'm hungry!"

"You just ate!"

Groaning even louder and more obnoxiously, I stomped back over to him and, painfully, managed to somewhat unfurl my wings. And let me tell you, that left one still hurt like hell, and to think I had to resort to this action really sucked, but since Sebastian was keeping his stinking trap glued shut, I had to defend my hunger the good ol' fashioned way.

"You see these?" My thumb poked vigorously at some primary feathers. "Yeah? Yeah? You see 'em, right?" My voice had that pressed sort of tone to it. "These, are called wings. And if you have wings son, let me tell you that you burn calories like rapid torpedo flames of hell, and you will never, ever, ever be full. Why? Because they're just engineered to be that way, that's fucking why."

Waves of déjà vu promptly suffocated me as I distinctly felt a pair of prying hands, smaller and more soft though, that obviously didn't know the meaning of freaking personal space, and ignored my entire speech right there and then to ogle at my feathery glory.

Hence why I allowed my one good wing to, oh, you know, twitch-flap a little bit and knock the snot to the ground. He fell over like a stack of dominoes, being scrawny and weak and frail 'n all. I picked at my nails nonchalantly. "Oh whoopsies, my bad," I said. "It kinda has a mind of its own sometimes, y'know? Built-in reflex."

The Earl glared at me as I continued, "How about let's discuss this over lunch instead? Sounds like a plan to me. Whatdoyasay, Patchy? Lunch? With like, some fine British tea and stuff? You'd like that, won't you? 'Cos you're British. Brits like tea."

"My name is Ciel Phantomhive. Not 'Patchy,'" he grit out, low and lethal.

"Ciel Phantomhive," I tested with a sniff, tongue rolling. My shoulders shrugged tentatively. "...I dunno kid, you look more like a Patchy sort of guy to me."

"Sebastian, escort the girl out. I'd like a moment's peace to gather my sanity."

"Certainly, young master." The butler gave a prompt half-bow, and began ushering a sputtering me from behind. "Come along, now."

"What the fuck, you two ganging up on me?!"

Ciel sent a look my way, now sitting proper on his chaise once more. "I will meet you in the dining room in precisely thirty minutes, Max. And I damn well expect some thorough answers."