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who: Ciel, Jason Todd, Undertaker, Beverly Crusher
what: Ciel has an asthma attack
when: 9/17
where: Book store, hospital
warnings: None?

He'd had time during the day, business was slow and if he stayed, he might have fallen asleep in his office. So he'd sent a message to Jason, inviting him to join the teen at a local bookstore to pass the time. And with the intent of picking at his brain a bit for more reading material, things he could read to keep himself up at night until he was too tired to dream.

If he couldn't dream, he couldn't disturb anyone.

He got himself a cup of tea while he waited, resisting a cough. What an inconvenient time to get sick. Hopefully it wouldn't spread to Jason- maybe he should have thought this meeting over more carefully.

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Utensils in their place, he moved to sit in a chair at the table to wait for the whistle of their kettle to signal their tea could be made. "Yes, I worried," he admitted simply. "If you die, who am I going to find to tolerate my brand of humor?"

Not the half of it, he'd intended to lighten the mood, but it didn't feel like any of it had lifted at all. It felt as though it had thickened, if anything. It made him uncomfortable. "They'll fret over you anyway. Not much can be done about that now." He'd seen the look on Beverly's face when she found Ciel in the hospital room, witnessed the muted concern she'd had over him while he struggled to suck in a full breath, heard the concern in Jason when they spoke briefly in the hall and later when he returned to the room to sit with the Earl for the rest of the night. How much did they actually know about Ciel, he wondered? Would knowing more change that? He didn't think it would.

It did thicken a bit but Ciel made himself smile. Humor still wasn't his strongest point, who knew if he'd ever pick up the knack for it that his father had probably had.

"I'm sure you would have found someone."

Maybe. He had grown up around Undertaker though, his humor had always been something he would hear whenever he visited the manor. Of course he had picked up bits of that, had adopted some of that humor himself. Rachel had probably been beside herself when either of the twins repeated one of his jokes.

He shifted in his seat, leaning to let his cheek rest against a palm, elbow on the table, in thought. "I might have. There are only so many people in this world, but one of them is bound to appreciate a good laugh." One finger tapped against his upper lip while he watched his roommate.

"Still, it would be easier if you stayed here among the living. I haven't had a customer yet from the police for me to inspect, but I'd rather it not be the one face I knew from home looking back up at me from the table."

He watched Undertaker, then took a seat. There would definitely be people who would share in his humor, maybe even have better jokes than Ciel could offer. He was, after all, trying to pick up a sense of humor he'd tried abandoning years before.

And then the admission that he'd rather not see Ciel's face looking up at him. It almost makes him laugh, thinking about all the times he'd asked to fit him for a coffin. Of course, he'd always had a demon in tow then. Now it was almost a childhood ailment that took him.

"I'm not ready to die." The admission surprised even him. He'd been resigned to it back home, he didn't have much reason to fight to live there. Here... he'd actually been happy on a few occasions.

"So... don't worry. You won't."

Of all the things he'd ever expected to hear from someone who'd tied themselves to a demon, that wasn't quite one of them. Then again, the boy had been so young at the time, there was no way he'd had any idea of what he was asking. He could imagine it, blind with rage and pain, looking for any way out of the place he'd been trapped in for who knew how long.

His grin widened for no good reason. "That's good. Very good indeed. It's always such a shame when I have to make the coffins so small."

And he hadn't even tried to summon a demon. Everything had happened quickly, his faith had died with his brother and then there was someone there, offering him the chance to make everyone else there hurt like he had. How could he have turned that chance away?

He had been angry. He had been hurt. And that was all he'd thought about.

"Would you have come back for that?"

On the stove, the kettle began to whistle at last and he stood to go tend to it. He turned off the burner and moved the pot with him back to the table to pour water for their tea and set it aside. When he had a bag for himself, he sat again and began to steep it.

"I'm the mortician. I'm also the one who tends the grounds when there needs to be a burial for your family's grave site, among others. Where else would I be?"

"I'm not sure." He'd barely heard anything about Undertaker after they'd found him at Weston and he'd gotten away. Now, he was glad they hadn't captured him. Really, what hope had he and Sebastian, or even the Queen, had in containing a grim reaper? Especially one so obviously powerful as Undertaker.

"Last I heard anything, Diedrich had said you stopped in on him in Germany and you were going to France." And there was the issue of the reapers in England. He'd already run into Grell and that wild-haired fellow. Would Undertaker risk them finding him?

Yes, there was that. He'd had to make his rounds after their meeting in the college. Things were coming together a little faster than he'd predicted, but the more he heard, the more he thought perhaps they may not have been remembering the same things after all. But it all hinged on one moment, and he could never be sure what, exactly, had happened after that time. He couldn't be present for every event, after all.

"My business does sometimes tend to take me away from home. After our last meeting, you only seemed to want that butler of yours to put me in chains, but I can't have that. But you're still your father's son. If you'd found yourself at your life's end before everything had played out, I still would have been there to lay you to rest."

"One of the missing students was a relation of the queen. I was obligated." That he'd failed to capture him, and that the queen hadn't been cross, had been a surprise and a relief. Last time she'd been displeased with his performance, he'd been framed for murder.

Ciel, himself, hadn't given much thought to how close and how similar things were for the two of them before arriving, he'd simply been relieved by the familiar face. Even more so when the pollen had stolen away his memories.

"I... admit, that's nice to hear. I'm sure you'd do right by me, like my family." He still had no idea what condition his parents had been found it. If they'd been found at all.

"Ah, yes. The Queen." The grin was back, but not for long. He still carried no love for Victoria and he thought he never would. She hadn't changed at all in her time on the throne and why would she? It was just such a shame that they would have to wait for her death to find out if the heir would be worth their salt, and he had no idea now when that would be and may not have been the one to know anyway.

He hadn't known when the Phantomhives would go either, and that was the worst part about it. Funny that once he had loathed knowing when and where all of those souls he would reap would be there for the taking, having to witness their end day in and out, but as soon as he'd abandoned it all, he was back in the dark about it all, just like any other normal human. There, he hadn't been afraid for himself, when he was at all, he'd been afraid for others. "It's the least I can do. I've been there for your family's ends for so long now, it'd feel wrong with me to let anyone else handle the deed. But if it's not your wishes to let me care for you in the end, I'll abide by it."

He glanced down at his hands, settled in his lap for the moment, and then back to Undertaker. There had never been a time that he was unsure about Undertaker's feelings for the queen. He'd said as much, and more, after his aunts funeral. He could remember his tie being yanked.

"I know you dislike her." He wished she'd stop calling him 'dear boy' but he hadn't yet found a reason to shift his opinion of her. At least her orders would hold no weight for him here, if the portal ever latched onto her. Doubtful it would, why would it?

He watched the ex-reaper for a moment, eye widening just slightly and then focusing back on his lap. Ciel had, in truth, thought very little about his death beyond the fact that it was coming. One way or another.

"I would rather you did, I think. At least someone might care then."

Dislike was one way to put it, but he nodded anyway and settled a little more into his seat. His tea had finished steeping and he took the bag out and squeezed what water from it he could and set it aside on a napkin to be tossed away later. "I've made no secret of it."

In truth though, he hadn't much of a choice in the matter. If they'd been in their world, he could simply do away with her, but that would attract far too much attention, even for a rogue like himself. Better to let her life run its natural course, even if she did trouble Vincent's son. "You say that as if no one else would be there. Is that really what you think?"

"No, you haven't." He agreed, easily. And he could see several reasons why he might dislike her but he doesn't argue them, doesn't try to change Undertaker's opinion. He was, after all, older than Ciel was, had dealt with nobles longer than he had.

"There might be people there. None of them that care about me though. Or really knew me." They all knew and cared about Ciel Phantomhive.

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