[ The vine unravels, and when it does, the mirror shows a woman. She doesn't seem to be any older than her early to mid twenties, her frame clad in a maid's uniform. She certainly looks friendly, her saturated brown eyes even seem to show how cheerful she is, regardless of this situation.]
[ She lets out a low hum, before crossing her arms, and
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Grell just stares at the video, disbelieving. The Queen would bring her instead of anyone else that perhaps she would want there? Him as a her was beginning to be accepted, but she couldn't help but feel the same stirrings from their fight she had forgotten a while ago. Finally, she manages to take the pen to scroll and write-as if she would risk unveiling herself to her.]
The sentiment is returned, Miss Michaelis, though I wonder why you choose to classify the current circumstances as "unfortunate".
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Many of us have duties to attend to. My work is never done, you see, and so I cannot help but find these 'circumstances' rather unfortunate. Do you yourself not have business to attend to back where you came from?
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[She studies Sebastienne thoughtfully. This one seems well-behaved.] You may have lost your way, but you have not forgotten your manners. You must be an excellent servant.
I am Kuja. [She gives a bow of her own.] I am a poet. I have had other titles, but for now that one is enough.
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It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Ms. Kuja. [ Once more, the maid bows. ]
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I have but recently arrived myself, but what I have learned, I share unstintingly. [Kuja is pleased with herself for being helpful, but she cannot yet bring herself to state that she is pleased to make the acquaintance of others.]
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You're too gracious, Ms. Kuja. Your help is most appreciated.
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[When Ciel finally appears, her face is incredulous and shocked. She had almost given up the idea (and small hope) that her maid would come after her. It's possible this is a fake, but as if anyone could fake such a casual distaste for humanity and yet still be so charming as the demon.]
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You're late.
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For how long have I been late, if it isn't too brazen of me to ask...?
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[She crosses her arms, fists clenching. The frustration of being trapped for an entire half-year rolls off her in waves.
Her interest becomes even stronger at the idea of sweets, though-- it's been just as long without the best ones in the world at her beck and call, and she does miss it.]
Hardly suitable of a Maid of the Phantomhives, is it?
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Sebastienne approves of it. even if it's really, really vulgar. ]
I see. I suppose you would be correct in that instance.
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