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[painthellred]

[ The heavy patter of rain overpowers the feed's audio for a few moments, as Angelina stares into the frame with dazed crimson eyes - a color strikingly similar to the rain that streaks over her skin and stains her dress, once pristine and white. Reclined against an outer wall of the Tower Apartments, she doesn't seem to be phased by the fact that

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action, a little later.

[stabilimentum]

[The funeral had been beautiful--hauntingly beautiful--from what Claude could see of it while standing away from the church. He appreciated the statement of crimson rose petals by her nephew, at least, and thought they suited her sanguine history. Alois had wanted to attend the ceremony himself, and so Claude had brought him and lurked around outside, occasionally exchanging hateful looks with another demon.

Despite the bloody rain and its stains, Claude still recognizes Madam Red in her burial dress. Finding her was more difficult in general due to the weather dampening smells, but here he is: steadily approaching her along the wall, him dark and smooth as a shadow, his black umbrella held aloft.]

Good evening, Madam Red.

[Claude resembles Sebastian Michaelis at first glance, but not the second. The dragging velvet of his voice is deeper, too, even though there's something supernaturally similar about it. With his high-collared traveling coat, it isn't easy to see his pale face until he gets close enough--his expression is stoic if very tense.]

I am Claude Faustus, the head butler of the Trancy family, and I have been sent for you by the Earl Ciel Phantomhive.

[painthellred]

[ Angelina clutches the red gown she's carried closer to her breast, once hearing his voice. She'd hardly noticed the man's arrival, likely covered by heavy rainfall and the onset of night, and the greeting gave her a notable start.

Had he not introduced himself, she may have made the mistake of calling out the name that her nephew's former butler went by - barely missing the gold eyes and apathetic bend of his lips. ]

Ah... Yes, he'd mentioned your name.

[ Standing upright from her place against the wall, she steps forth to meet him. ]

I hope I wasn't too difficult to find, Mister Claude?

[stabilimentum]

[The umbrella is large enough to cover both of them entirely. Claude hasn't had enough time to study the unique properties of the red-tinted water, but he doesn't believe it to be fatal; however, there's no reason to take risks. Above them, the rapid pitter-patter of raindrops on canvas muffles his hmming while Claude looks at her and her over and into her, beyond her flesh. (It's a distinct sensation, like he's undressing her with his eyes but somehow it's more intimate than that.) Like him, Madam Red is supposed to be dead. At least her soul seems to be intact.

Finally, he places one hand on his chest and bows slightly from the waist up, his eyes closed for a moment.] A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.

I'm admittedly familiar with the area, [he explains, gesturing vaguely. He eyes the nearest siren pole, since it'll be dark soon.] Every Newcomer passes by here at some point.

[Only now does he smile in the faintest, most meaningless way.]

But to answer your earlier question: No, this is not Hell. --Shall we be off, then?

[painthellred]

[ Ann can't help but entwine her fingers tighter within the fabric of her party dress, held to her person with the desperate attempt to remain modest. The white of her dress is soaked through, the outline of undergarments and skin visible and highly inappropriate - and goodness, she would appreciate it if he's cease with that piercing stare. She send him a disapproving look that says as much, even if it is a tad inciting in the worst way. ]

Likewise. [ Passively said, with an acknowledging nod. Her gaze will follow his, noting the structure as something of importance.

Ah, but then she chuckles, as she can't resist. ]

I suppose a man like you would know best, hm? [ An approving shake of the head. ] Let us go.

[stabilimentum]

[Despite Madam Red's disapproval, Claude doesn't stop looking her over until he's satisfied with whatever he finds. The human form itself isn't particularly amazing, but he does appreciate the sight of her drenched in red, just as a certain death god did before. The infamous Jack the Ripper fiasco was one of the many events that Claude kept track of while stalking Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis for years. Even so, even knowing what she "is," he won't begrudge her for any former secret identities and nonsensical atrocities. Wrath is a beautifully passionate sin, he thinks.

Come to think of it, the blood of whores usually runs too bitter for his tastes. The first human he ever tore open and ate alive was a whore from the dusty back alleys of some Biblical city or another. He hardly remembers; he was very, very hungry at the time. Mindless with hunger.]

Learning the lay of the land is important for me, [he replies, and that's when he holds up something else--a nice, clean jacket that had been tucked under his arm. The jacket is burgundy in color, and lined with fleece to ward off tonight's wet, unearthly chill.] Siren's Port is not the safest city, all the same.

[As soon as he has the jacket draped over her shoulders, Claude offers his arm in case she needs it. And then off they go, back down the street, against the nearly nonexistent traffic and the tainted downpour. Meanwhile, he has to wonder if she's aware of his true nature--she has occult knowledge of Sebastian, and Claude shares some obvious similarities with him. He isn't going to ask outright, preferring to playact.]

[painthellred]

[ Gratefully, she pulls the coat nearer, while softly humming in content at the new warmth it provides. ]

Aah, how thoughtful. Thank you. [ As for the arm he's offered her, she'll step nearer to loop hers over, fingers brushing the rich cloth of his undercoat. She may not necessarily need it as much as she considers taking advantage of his company. Servant or not, he was as handsome as she was indulgent. ]

It wasn't your expertise with this particular area that I was speaking of, by the way. [ A smile. ]

[stabilimentum]

Mm.

[A response that's soft and somewhat dismissive, equivalent to it's not a problem. As her escort this evening, Claude thought it practical to bring Madam Red a jacket or some other modest cover. That stained dress of hers is nearly translucent; exposed and alone, she'd make a irresistible morsel for a few roaming mongrels. Anyone who stays out after the Sirens tends to get desperate. He will defend her if he has to--but the less attention on them, the better.

Speaking of, Claude doesn't seem to mind receiving any of her attention. --He isn't particularly tempted by her, however, judging by his unchanging expression. Unlike that other butler, he's not about to do a dance of the heebie-jeebies just from having some human cozying up to him. On a daily basis, Alois did much worse than check the texture of his butler's undercoat.]

Then, to which area would you be referring? [he asks, side-glancing her with rekindled interest. Perhaps she is confirming it.]

[painthellred]

[ With a coy little smile to accompany that side-glance, she responds without much hesitation. ]

Come now, no mortal man could possess such fiendishly striking features - and who better to know hell than a demon.

[ There's a light laugh. In the event that she's wrong-... Well, it would be a tad embarrassing, wouldn't it? Though she'd left herself a smidgen of room to claim it was but an odd compliment. ]

You remind me a lot of him, you know-- Sebastian.

[stabilimentum]

[Unambiguous confirmation, even. Refreshing. Claude's not taken aback by that, not when humans are always at least somewhat aware when they're in the presence of a predator. Comparing him to another one of his kind is a matter of having the memories and a few working brain cells. Madam Red won't be a complete pushover, it seems. Good to know.]

You would have to thank my master for the most of me, [he replies smoothly, easily. It's not too much of a problem if she gets her own confirmation.] The Earl Alois Trancy. A friend of your nephew's. [Besides, he can't deny the spark of pride that her compliment gave him. His master's imagination is of a superior quality, perfect for the supernatural to flourish. These days, Claude appreciates it more and more.

Oh, and what should he say about Sebastian?]

Perhaps. [A slight, slight smile.] I am far more experienced than Mr. Michaelis, however.

[painthellred]

[ Even with his confirmation, she doesn't feel terribly threatened. If all demons were bound by the same code of honor that Sebastian brandished, this immortal was a leashed dog, so to speak - and so she makes a vague sound of admiration as she notes his wording. ]

A true 'friend' of Ciel's must be one worthy of trust. I'm quite intrigued to know what you mean when you speak of 'experience', though~. [ A quirked brow, and a curious smile light her features. ]