Out of a very long-standing habit, he gave a half-bow at her dismissal. Fortunately, it was a custom that seemed to only appear when they were alone, so few had had the chance to comment on how old-fashioned it was. “I’ll be only a moment. What butler would take more time?” With that, he entered into the pathetic restroom, not caring to bolt the door behind him. Given how easily Ciel was embarrassed, the idea of his mistress becoming a peeping tom was a thought so incorrect as to be amusing. He would attempt to encourage in a different situation but covered as he was with gore, now was not the time.
The bathroom itself was in relatively good condition, though that wasn’t saying much compared to how much of the city fared. Still, it was what he had to work with and if a demon couldn’t make do with this, he wasn’t worthy of the name. He stripped off his jacket and tie, hanging them on a hook on the back of the door. His shirt and remaining garments followed and he turned to the sink, eyeing his reflection in the mirror. It was a rather fearsome sight; he was mildly impressed with Ciel’s composure when looking at him. The demon shrugged after a moment and set to work, cleaning any remnant of blood from his body.
As the blood was fresh, cleaning it took almost no time. His clothes, however were another matter. Still, it would be preferable if he could make them as clean as possible. Calling on powers Ciel had forbidden him to use in front of her centuries ago, laundering them was quick enough. He dressed himself in the clothes, doing his best to ignore the occasional tear. What was important was the garments were now blood-free. Satisfied, he nodded and turned, opening the door and returning to the near-abandoned store.
“That’s much better. If you’re ready, my lady?” He held out his hand for the Vasia and looked down. “Ah, just a moment.” Reaching into his pocket, he took out his gloves, putting them on. “I must say, there really isn’t any substitute for clean gloves.” Smiling, he extended his newly gloved hand for the shopping bag. “If you don’t mind?”
Though she wasn’t standing there for long, Ciel grew bored remarkably quickly— or perhaps bored wasn’t exactly the right word. She was restless, eager to have a bath and change out of the dress she’d been wearing for the last six days. A cup of tea sounded lovely as well, even though she was sure she’d have to settle for maccha or simple green tea. Even a demon as dedicated as her butler wouldn’t be able to find good Earl Grey if there wasn’t any to be found.
When Sebastian stepped back out into the store, Ciel wasted very little time in glancing up and moving toward him, picking up the Vasia on her way. She began to hold it out to him when he indicated that he’d take it but paused when he remembered his gloves, a tiny but noticeable smile spreading across her face as he put them on. In the 1800s she knew he’d worn them to cover up his nails and the contract mark, but in 2110 he no longer had any pressing reasons to keep them. It was the very same as her predilection for ruffled skirts and lace-trimmed blouses; the two of them were stuck in the late 19th century.
Giving the bag to him when he extended his hand a second time, Ciel inclined her head and glanced toward the door, obviously anxious to leave. “It’s not much farther, right? The hotel.” Now that he wasn’t covered in the putrid blood of the infected, she wasn’t opposed to letting him carry her again, even if the hotel happened to be just around the corner. A week’s worth of fighting and running from the undead had worn them down a bit, but she was still wearing three and a half inch heels.
Of course, she would most likely protest if he did try to carry her; she couldn’t simply allow him to treat her like a child without expressing some discontent. After two centuries they both knew she was only doing it for the sake of appearances.