"I asked for the story. Not every name, time and clothing choice. Don’t be daft, Ciel."
A low growl was elicited from the male’s throat as he grew aggravated at the other male. ❝When you asked for the whole story, I presumed you were implying that you wanted the details as well.❞
Skepticism clouded the jester’s features. Something seemed off. “N-no, I mean if you really are sick, but you look fine to me. Maybe you should go see Doctor first.”
❝No, no, I’m sure all will be well without him. I’m positive I’m sick and it’s just a cold or something of the sort so I wouldn’t want him to waste his time checking up on me.❞ The bluenette turned his back on the ringleader, a scowl continuing to tease the corners of thin lips. ❝Surely losing your least talented member of the circus for only about a day won’t bother you much. Can Black not fill in for me….somehow?❞
"Ill?" he said. Outstretching his flesh hand, he felt Ciel’s forehead. It didn’t seem like he had a fever or anything. "Smile, you better not be lyin’ to me."
❝Would I lie—?❞ The young Earl questioned, as though he didn’t take advantage of and cheat practically everyone he came in contact with. ❝I only really need one day off. I wouldn’t want my illness to turn out to be contagious and get anyone else sick, you know.❞
❝I would rather not perform today. I’m feeling the slightest bit ill—❞
He isn’t ill.
He just wants a lazy day.
….He’s sort of doubting he’ll be allowed it.
Faking being sick is tedious, after all.
A hand came up to request silence, “I don’t need the details.”
❝Then don’t ask for them.❞
c•i•e•l = part time brat
and full time guard dog
• private rp blog for ciel phantomhive
• single line, para + novella;; all types of roleplay are very welcome here
• 4+ years rp experience
• multi-fandom + selectively oc friendly
• mun is a shy weaboo and would be happy to speak with you!
Eyes of a deep, royal cerulean are cast upon the Queen’s spider as though the young blond is nothing more than a pathetic mutt of a dog left to wander the perilous streets of London. The younger male tapped his fingers upon his desk of Oak wood; the very same piece of furniture that was designated to work and cluttered with papers; many and most doodled or scribbled upon, as he continued to gaze at the Trancy who stood before him. Ciel was to offer all nobles the full Phantomhive hospitality — Alois Trancy not excluded — and could not possibly find a way to politely refuse the other. So, here hew was, stuck with an unexpected and most unwanted guest. ❝Do tell, Trancy❞ — the words slip off of his tongue as thought they are the most poisonous of all venom — ❝what brings you here this afternoon?❞ A forced conversation was much preferred to silence. As they say; silence is deadly — even more lethal than any words the Phantomhive could possibly bestow upon the fourteen year old.