George was drying his hair when he heard a tentative knock on his door. Creasing his eyebrows, he opened the door and froze. Ciel stood at the door, his left hand clutching a black coat, his right hand hung in mid-air, about to knock on the door again. He looked at the white haired man, his words stuck in his throat.

Ciel gaped at George. He must have just finished showering; his hair was still wet and he had a towel draped around his neck. Water droplets clung to his hair before falling off and sliding down his face and onto his neck and down his well-toned chest.

 He was half dressed and barefoot, wearing another unbuttoned black shirt paired with charcoal grey slacks, also half done up. Instead of the usual neatly combed back hair, the damp hair was slightly darker than usual and was mussed, curling about his face.

The overall effect would have quite a number of female patrons swooning. Ciel himself was not immune to the image. George’s hair curled and covered the right side of his face, leaving an unblemished left side to charm anyone who saw.

Feeling his face heat up, Ciel thrust the coat into George’s face, his flushed face looking away. “Noire said you forgot your coat and asked me to bring it to you.”

George snapped out of his daze and looked at the pink faced man in front of him. Even the tips of his ears were pink. How cute. He gave a small smile.

“Thank you.” He said, taking the coat. “Would you like to come in?”

“No, I-” Ciel quickly looked up, about to refuse.

“I’m almost done, just come in and wait a moment. I’ll walk you down… please?”

Ciel could hear the pleading in his voice. Swallowing his fears and against his better judgement, he gave a small nod.

George was elated. Stepping aside, he allowed the slender man into his room. However, he did not fully shut the door; perhaps to ease Ciel’s nerves a little.

All staff lived on the third floor. All staff except Master Gin and his family, that is, with a portal linking the club to their home in Time Valley.

Ciel had never been inside the staff’s living quarters but they were somewhat similar to the guest rooms on the second floor. The room opened directly into a small living room; there was an armchair to the left with a tiny table beside it, both on top of a fluffy rug.

A small bookshelf was leaning against the wall beside the door, filled with books and a few knick-knacks – Ciel did not expect that from George – and further in, there was a small breakfast nook. Behind the nook was a little kitchenette. To the right was the bedroom with attached bathroom.

Overall it was a cosy little space. Since there was a communal kitchen, laundry, library and recreation rooms for the staff on this floor, it was not necessary to cram everything into the individual living quarters.

“Have a seat, I’ll be done as soon as possible.” George indicated to the armchair while he walked to the bedroom.

From his seat, Ciel could see George opening his closet to hang up his coat. Beside the closet he could see the door leading to the bathroom while his bedroom was hidden by the wall to the right.

George briskly rubbed his hair dry and hung his towel on a rack on the other side of the bathroom door. He then walked into the bathroom. Ciel heard the click of a switch and the bathroom was illuminated with orange light.

He saw George’s reflection in the mirror as he buttoned up his shirt and tucked it into his pants. Using a little gel, he combed back his curly hair and was once again the neat, professional looking head of security.

Exiting the bathroom, George switched off the lights and took out the matching charcoal grey coat from the closet. In a smooth and elegant motion, he put on his coat and stepped out of his bedroom.

“I’m ready, let’s go.”

He said, opening the door to escort Ciel out. He looked at Ciel, who was still staring.

Flustered, Ciel leapt out of the chair but lost his balance when he tripped over the rug and was about to fall. George caught him with ease and pulled Ciel towards him. His balance off kilter, Ciel crashed into his warm, hard chest.

He could smell a faint, woodsy scent coming off George. It made him think about being lost in a forest. ‘It must be the scent of his cologne’ Ciel thought faintly. Quickly pushing himself away from George, Ciel blushed and stammered his thanks.

His palms could feel the warmth of George’s chest, even through his shirt and coat. He fisted his tingling hands and with a warm face he hurried out of the room, George sedately walking behind, looking at his own palm.

This was the first time he’d gotten this close to Ciel since the accident. He never realized how delicate Ciel really was, how his broad hand could encircle his slim wrist with some room to spare.

And when Ciel crashed into his chest, he almost felt nothing. Rather, he was afraid that he was the one that hurt Ciel.

Walking at a steady pace behind him, George could see the tips of Ciel’s ears through his white hair; they were pink again. He gave a small smile as he remembered his callused, work hardened, sun beaten hand against Ciel’s smooth, white wrist and the slight feel of the man against his chest.

There was a slight scent on Ciel, but it didn’t smell like cologne. If he had to describe it, he would say that it smelt like the sun… Ciel smelt like warm sunshine.

George’s one good eye darkened at the thought. He never thought himself to be a sentimental or romantic man but if Ciel smiled, really smiled, from the bottom of his heart; then George believed that he would be looking at a clear sky full of sunshine.

On the way down, they stopped at the second floor guestroom to check on Anansi. He was now awake and gave them a wry smile.

“It’s a good thing them stories about me are still being told to children back home. Or else I’d be a goner,” the trickster joked.

“The belief in you is still strong, you will be fine, master Anansi,” Ciel answered sincerely.

Gods, immortals, mythical beings all depend on belief to survive. The more people who believe in them, the stronger they become. If people stopped believing in a mythical being or denied their existence, stories and pictures of them will slowly fade away and with it, the being themselves.

This is why there were some permanent members in Sanctuary; they no longer have people who believe or even know of them. Rather than to lose their existence entirely, they chose to stay in the club, where time does not really exist; whiling their time away telling tales to the ‘younger’ generation about their lost days of grandeur.

Since tales of Anansi were still being told today, he was in fact a rather strong deity.

“Out of curiosity, why did you not just come in directly but choose to walk from the barrier instead, master Anansi?” George suddenly asked.

“Eh, you know how it is… I was hoping to bump into Arachne or maybe Jurogumo… they won’t let me near them in the club and I can’t approach them because of club rules.” Anansi was sheepish, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

Ciel gave a small laugh when he heard Anansi mention the two prominent female spiders from myths and legends.

“Please refrain from doing so, master Anansi. My mother may take offense and inform your wife.” Scarlet was very big on fidelity.

“Don’t worry, I’ve learnt my lesson,” he lifted his two arm stumps that were slowly growing. “I might need to book this room temporarily until my arms grow back. I don’t want the missus to know and nag.”

“Understood. I’ll inform the hotel staff and put all the charges into your account. Have a good rest master Anansi.” The two of them politely said their goodbyes and left. Ciel noticed that George was still in deep thought.

“Do you not believe him?” Ciel asked, his heart uneasy. He still felt uncomfortable with George, but perhaps that contact with him earlier dislodged most of the fear out of him.

He felt warm and solid. And when he looked at him, the air around him was steadfast and calm. Not like the bloody, crazed man he was fifty years ago.

George came back from his thoughts and looked at Ciel, his mind still churning.

“Lady Arachne might use the western entrance but she normally comes in the day, never at night. As for lady Jurogumo, she exclusively uses the eastern entrance. Considering that the dread hyenas also did not kill him, I find it a little too coincidental.”

They came to the lounge and saw Blanc and Noire signalling them. “Dominic said he heard some thunder when he was at the southern entrance. It might be nothing but I think we ought to take a look see.” Noire informed George the minute they arrived.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, you watch the entrance. Blanc and I should be enough.”

“Fine but don’t take any risks. When is Master Gin coming back?”

“Father said that if their business goes well, they’ll be in by tomorrow afternoon.”

George looked at Ciel who was looking uncomfortable, unable to contribute to the conversation. “Go mingle a little while more. The bar will close in another hour or so then go home and rest. The twins and I can take care of this security issue.”

“Mmmm” Ciel gave a noise of affirmation then left to entertain the guests. He flitted around the guests, giving a warm smile here and spoke a few words there.

After making a round around the lounge, he went back to the grand piano. Sounds of the piano could be heard, adding to the mood of the lounge.

“I didn’t know that Ciel knew this piece. Father usually plays it. Strange, it sounds a little different from father’s.” Blanc turned to look at the stage before returning to the discussion at hand.

They finished and Blanc and Noire left, after taking another two clips of ammunition and a short sword each. When facing the unknown, it was always better to be safe than sorry.

George watched them go, a slight smile on his face. Again, his back was turned to the lounge, as if afraid to look at the pianist on stage. Of course the piece sounded different from Master Gin’s… Ciel was peeved.

In a piece that was normally black and white, there were tinges of vibrant red, popping out like little slashes and stabs. They harmonized so well in the black and white that most people would not notice.

Even if they did, they would just put it down to Ciel’s interpretation of what is normally Master Gin’s favourite piece. But to George who looked at music like a piece of art, he could see the force which the red notes were played.

It was not that they wanted to exclude him but all the staff unanimously agreed; that Ciel, like his name was the untouchable sky – lofty and clear, unsullied by the mud of the earth. Everyone just naturally excluded him from discussions involving bloody and dangerous things not because they looked down on him, but because he really was the last bastion of purity that everyone here worshiped.

If Ciel knew that this was the thought of everyone around, who knows what he might do in his anger. Probably some sulking and maybe something petty but totally harmless; after all, Ciel was a soft hearted, gentle soul.