His Butler, Roleplaying

Bristling at the no humor crack, Ciel pressed his fingers to his forehead and spat, "Sebastian, cause the Undertaker to laugh." As if the butler hadn't offered to do so not thirty seconds before.

"Ah, very well." Sebastian flicked his wrist a few times to indicate the direction of the exit. "You know the rule. Out you go." He gave Grell a few 'gentle' nudges in the proper direction, making sure to slam the door as soon as they were passed the threshold.

Down the street from the morgue lived an old couple, possibly the only people who had lived on the block longer than the Undertaker himself. When the air rang with his distant, yet loud, hysterical laughter, the old woman just sighed as she collected her husband's dishes. "It's that kid and his butler again." She grumbled.

Grell kept his hands firmly planted over his ears at the irritate laugh that resonated from the household. "Honestly, it can't be that funny." He frowned.

Rolling his eyes, Ciel huffed, his breath coming out in a short cloud of angry. "I didn't understand the humor when he tried one of his jokes on me. I suppose it must be some kind of specialized joke to only those of the underworld." Then he smirked, angling his gaze to the Reaper. "So why weren't you allowed to stay inside?"

Grell paused. Why wasn't he allowed to stay? "Bassy, you're excluding me again!" He whaled while throwing himself against the door and scratching at it in an overly dramatic fashion.

The overwhelming laughter seemed to be dying down. "Stop manhandling that door, Ginger." Ciel turned back to the morgue, swinging his cane with resolve. "Although if you'd rather stay out here in the cold, you are allowed and more than welcome." He glanced back, gauging whether the Reaper was following him. Still grieving at the door. Pathetic.

"Ah, I was just about to invite you back in, my Lord." Sebastain replied, his calm and measured voice barely rising about the slowly (slowly) dying giggles of the other occupant of the shop.

"Heh heh... Alright, alright." The Undertaker wheezed, attempting to catch his breath between words, still letting out a few stray giggles from time to time. "It's Druitt you want, is it? Word is..." His voice devolved into another giggle fit.

Of course he followed Ciel in. Looking a bit sheepish. His arms were crossed in a manner that was meant to guard his ego. He rose both eyebrows at the undertaker. "Blast it all!" Grell exploded. "Yes! It's Druitt we want! Spit it out!" He cried.

Even though the Reaper had absolutely no class in the question, Ciel was heartily agreeing this time. He fixed his gaze on the expected area one's eyes usually are, feeling a bit unnerved that he couldn't actually see the... eccentric man's own pair. He crossed his hands over the end of his cane expectantly, briefly veering over to his butler's form. What on earth could he have said that was so utterly and ridiculously funny? The Undertaker was still shaking, Ciel noted, and even his lips seemed to be trembling with mirth. Repulsive.

Just as Sebastian looked to be getting more than a tad impatient, the Undertaker seemed to finally catch his breath. He licked the saliva from his lips, and suddenly seemed quite calm, his voice dropping as he told his story. "Word is that he's up to his old tricks again. 'E's been ordering enough coffins for a catastrophe, but I doubt they're for corpses. I'd see those." He leaned forward with an excited grin. "If you're having trouble tracking him down, I'd be more than happy to take you to 'is pick-up location."

Grell slapped his hands together expectantly. "Oh yes, you see that'd be much appreciated. My feet are getting tired from all this walking. It really isn't fair to make a lady walk about all day in shoes this good." He flipped his hair over his shoulder before batting those false lashes.

His hat needed adjusting, and Ciel was growing impatient with Sebastian's delay at righting it. 24 seconds. He brooded, sighing as he turned to the demon in question. "Sebastian; Take me to the location. This is an order." Next he shifted his gaze to the rest of their party, wondering how on earth he had gotten mixed in with such an unsavory bunch. "You," he asserted, directing his attention to Undertaker, "I would greatly appreciate your assistance in finding this venue with as much promptness as you can manage. And you-" he turned his withering gaze to Grell, "I would most rather you not come at all, but if you insist upon joining us, please stay out of the way." 44 seconds.

Sebastian spotted the haberdasheral error with some dismay. He was beginning to feel like his sudden incompetence was a setup for some sort of plot point or something. Slightly distressing. He would have to step up his game. He corrected the hat. "So impatient, my lord. We've yet to learn the location.

Undertaker took a glance at Grell's shoes, and looked fairly unimpressed, but held his tongue on the subject. "It just so 'appens that I've got another delivery all ready for the Viscount." He began to shuffle off. "Right this way, I'll give you a ride."

Grell didn't really notice the Undertaker's lack of interest in his shoes; choosing to believe that they were being admired instead. "Of course I'm coming. I have to do my job after-all." He crossed his arms and wore a bored expression. It wasn't that he was particularly excited about this case, nor extremely dedicated to his job. He hardly ever did overtime if he could. However, Sebastian happened to be a major part in this Viscount's death at the moment, and he was going to run this job to it's fullest extent. Grell followed the Undertaker as he lead the way.

((Lol, 'plot point.' Oh, Lila.))

After Sebastian had helped him into the carriage, (all the while consciously deciding not to think about what else had been towed about in the same area he was now resting), Ciel crossed his arms and began speaking to his butler, although not turning towards him. "As the Viscount's death is directly tied to you and I, Sebastian, we must be careful with how we approach this." He closed his eyes in thought, "As the Queen has not specifically said how we untangle this trafficking ring, added to that Ginger's death records, we will have to proceed with caution. We can't have Lord Chambers perishing before the needed information is extracted."

"Hm, you don't think our clever disguises will be enough to fool him?" Sebastian straightened the collar on Ciel's simple peasant's shirt. "Not to worry, my lord. I am certain that we've had adequate warning. Rest assured, he will not die until we've learned what we need."

Undertaker loaded a few dark-stain caskets into the back of the cart, giving them a loving stroke before climbing in himself. Such a shame they would be wasted once Druitt was done with them.

Grell climbed into the cart as well, taking a seat amongst the coffins. "Not the most elegant way to travel." He mumbled while rustling his gress about to ajust to the new space.

The ride there was mostly silent, except for a few muffled outbursts from the ginger. (All Ciel could do was roll his eyes as Sebastian clapped his hand over his mouth; although it only got worse as Grell seemed to enjoy that even more) When the carriage finally stopped, the boy threw his eyes out the window and frowned. "Where is this location anyway?" He didn't recognize any of his surroundings.

"I believe this is the far end of the countryside." Sebastian replied.

"You'd be right there, butler." Undertaker continued. "The Viscount likes to avoid the pryin' eyes of the public, if you catch my meaning."

Sebastian eyed Grell. "I do trust you'll honor our arrangement, now that the legwork is taken care of."

"Of course. Except now I've got to do my job, so I'll be sticking around." He gave them a dastardly grin. Can;t get rid of me too quickly. He thought.

Whatever is going on here can't be handled too carefully, Ciel thought, as he stepped out of the carriage. shooting a glance at his butler. Sebastian will have to be performing quite well to have this sorted by dinner. He smirked. "Well?" He looked around at the group. "Are we just going to stand here like a bunch of ninnies or shall we go make this delivery?"

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at the reaper. "And I trust you understand the grave inconvenience we would suffer if the Viscount should die?" He stole a glance at his watch. He did understand the young master's concern, but he felt confident this time.

"If you're trying to get in wivout the Vicount noticing..." Undertaker ran his clawed fingers along the polished wood of one of his freshly made coffins. "I've got the perfect hiding place for you." This thought made him seem just a little more giddy than seemed appropriate.

Grell gave the undertaker a strange look. He wasn't sold on this idea. Why would a shinigami, particularly a good looking shinigami like himself need to use such methods to do his job? Things were honestly getting a bit too involved for his taste.

The Earl stared for a second, his face grim. Is this the only way? He wondered, hardly excited in any way of being stuffed inside such a box. Finally he sighed and took a step towards it. "Sebastian." Ciel turned and stepped inside the coffin, giving his butler a hard look. "Gather the information as quickly as possible. Under no circumstances should we leave here without, at least, the names of the perpetrators we must collect." He paused, licking his lips briefly along with his nerves, "And no not let me stay in this box any longer than nescessary."

Sebastian gave a rather stately nod. "Yes, my lord."

"The Earl's not afraid, is he?" The Undertaker chuckled. He ti;lted his head at said Earl, as though examining a picture on a wall. "Such a shame. It rather suits you."