He regained a mask of passivity, the few taut lines in his face smoothing over. Sebastian’s eyes followed the motion of his lord’s fingers intently. Even like this, languidly whiling away the time, the Earl Phantomhive seemed larger-than-life. Too much of him screamed ‘regal’ to fit inside such a small package. "It pleases me to hear it, young master.” The butler replied with caution.
“Curiosity is always meddlesome. I would never discourage it. What you inquired was about my reasoning. I aim always to answer you in the most suitable manner,-” The manner most suited to Sebastian, “-but it was never my intention to give some long-winded rebuttal on overstepping the bounds of propriety. You said so yourself; I don’t abide by the same rules. I’d see no point in defending myself by their jurisdiction.” He should have known better, he realised, than to doubt his lord’s ability to call things exactly what they were. Rarely did he find himself making useless little actions. But under the young man’s scrutiny, his fingers fidgeted with the corners of his pocket square. Acting like a child awaiting the verdict of a parent, he thought. The hand stilled. “I did mention it wasn’t entirely serious. Without your usual composed judgement present, I was required to take some drastic measures.”
Never one to miss the opportunity for a snide remark, he cocked his head and said, “Knowing my nature is intrinsic has never stopped you from finding fault before, my lord.” The butler posed it as a question, his voice curving higher.
♚░ ⁞ He’d noticed it before: Sebastian’s childish and occasionally playful streak, that which often came out at the most unfitting times. The way he was fiddling about with things, the way his words curled in inquiry, how he was so eager to defend himself—none of it was beyond detection when it came to Ciel’s acute senses. If only to knock him down a few pegs, to disappoint his inclination towards approval, the aristocrat snickered, voice dropping to a scornful lilt that suited his noble accent and made each syllable an intimidating purr.
“And I have never found fault without reason, now have I?” came the quick retort. “Disregarding the matter at hand, I have only ever sought to evoke the peak performance I know you are capable of. Perfection is one of your guiding principles, after all. I’ve heard you declare aspects of your supposed ‘butler’s aesthetic’ too often to be misguided in the assistance I give.” He smiled at the demon, a closed-eye, closed-lip smile that did little to hide the intentions behind his words, evident even with only one hemisphere of his face visible. “I never claimed that I would provide lenience in exchange for your service, Sebastian. Surely if you are so devoted towards metaphors of nature, and align your intents and inclinations to that of a predator, then you must understand that cruelty is the true way of the world. I see no differently. Don’t seek any charity from me.”
Once again, he relaxed his posture, turning his chair towards the man with another kick from his foot. His challenge had been extinguished for the most part by then, the uncovered half of his mismatched gaze finding the eyes of his demon. He saw calculation, observation, and perhaps irritation there, and if only to quell the tension that had bubbled up, said, “Rest assured, so long as you continue to put your best foot forth with regards to serving me, I will remain satisfied.”
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