[Claude's bedroom is tucked into one corner of the attic, as far away from the other servants as he can possibly get. Even in front of the doorway, the heavy smell of his room's special roses should be apparent; they're underscored by what must be dark chocolate. On the door there are several obvious metal locks, deadbolts and combinations, which will only open on their own for his master. A pale pink Post-It Note rests smack dab in the middle of the door, bearing a crudely drawn sigil on it that has no obvious meaning.
Silence. No answer at all.
It could be Claude is sleeping, or maybe he--]
Mr. Nightray.
[--is standing right behind Elliot. Adjusting his glasses curiously. Like master, like servant--except Claude seemingly came out of thin air.]
Is there something I can help you with?
[Claude hasn't shown any enmity toward Elliot, aside from that non-confrontation weeks ago. Really, he was quite quick and discreet about cleaning up Elliot's room of spilt blood; he hasn't breathed a word of that strangeness to anyone. All he left in his wake was the pleasant, soothing scent of pine oil cleaner.
... oh, speaking of smelling... it's above the roses, and...... enhancing the chocolate........... Happy Meal? Nnngh. Claude looks down at the bag and squints slightly.]
Elliot had visibly jumped on the spot the moment he had heard his name. Shit, this man gave Elliot the creeps. That was completely unnecessary, Claude. Quickly turning around, he glanced up at the taller man.]
S-sir. I came here to thank you-- [If you can even call it that. Elliot realizes what Claude had been looking at before raising it awkwardly. Presenting it to the male, the Nightray calmed down from the slight scare given to him not even moments ago.]
I ran an errand [not even that.] and figured I'd get something for you as well. For what you did for me; I really appreciated it, sir.
[Surprising someone is the least harmful way to force their emotions to flare. Fear, panic, astonishment, realization, and relief--Claude enjoys seeing and feeling them flash and fade in rapid succession. While he waits for Elliot to settle and say his piece, Claude continues to stare at the fast food as though he would eat the bags and boxes whole. Shit, he is hungrier than he thought.]
You are quite welcome, [he replies, looking up again. His gaze lingers on the center of Elliot's chest, where his life force does not originate from. Claude has to wonder how long it'll take for the disembodied soul to start rotting.] However, as I've said before, it was not at all any trouble. A good butler should be prepared to assume the housekeeping.
[Peering into Elliot's eyes, Claude takes the bag of food from him. The bag's paper is warm and he wants to hug it to his chest, snuggling it like a security blanket. He refrains for the sake of propriety.]
I wonder which toy I'll acquire... [Somewhat amused, actually.] There was a Lamborghini Gallardo LP570-4 Superleggera die-cast car I had my sights set on. [He reaches into the bag to retrieve a few French fries, which he eats one at a time, slow and steady. His self-restraint is admirable--of course, once Elliot is out of sight, he'll shove everything inside his mouth.]
You have my greatest gratitude, sir. If you find yourself in need of more assistance, please to be letting me know.
Silence. No answer at all.
It could be Claude is sleeping, or maybe he--]
Mr. Nightray.
[--is standing right behind Elliot. Adjusting his glasses curiously. Like master, like servant--except Claude seemingly came out of thin air.]
Is there something I can help you with?
[Claude hasn't shown any enmity toward Elliot, aside from that non-confrontation weeks ago. Really, he was quite quick and discreet about cleaning up Elliot's room of spilt blood; he hasn't breathed a word of that strangeness to anyone. All he left in his wake was the pleasant, soothing scent of pine oil cleaner.
... oh, speaking of smelling... it's above the roses, and...... enhancing the chocolate........... Happy Meal? Nnngh. Claude looks down at the bag and squints slightly.]
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Elliot had visibly jumped on the spot the moment he had heard his name. Shit, this man gave Elliot the creeps. That was completely unnecessary, Claude. Quickly turning around, he glanced up at the taller man.]
S-sir. I came here to thank you-- [If you can even call it that. Elliot realizes what Claude had been looking at before raising it awkwardly. Presenting it to the male, the Nightray calmed down from the slight scare given to him not even moments ago.]
I ran an errand [not even that.] and figured I'd get something for you as well. For what you did for me; I really appreciated it, sir.
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You are quite welcome, [he replies, looking up again. His gaze lingers on the center of Elliot's chest, where his life force does not originate from. Claude has to wonder how long it'll take for the disembodied soul to start rotting.] However, as I've said before, it was not at all any trouble. A good butler should be prepared to assume the housekeeping.
[Peering into Elliot's eyes, Claude takes the bag of food from him. The bag's paper is warm and he wants to hug it to his chest, snuggling it like a security blanket. He refrains for the sake of propriety.]
I wonder which toy I'll acquire... [Somewhat amused, actually.] There was a Lamborghini Gallardo LP570-4 Superleggera die-cast car I had my sights set on. [He reaches into the bag to retrieve a few French fries, which he eats one at a time, slow and steady. His self-restraint is admirable--of course, once Elliot is out of sight, he'll shove everything inside his mouth.]
You have my greatest gratitude, sir. If you find yourself in need of more assistance, please to be letting me know.
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