*Gives Prince Soma some English scones*
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AH. TROUBLING. Had he complained too loudly of his perpetual cravings for afternoon snacks ( again ) ? Had he inadvertently annoyed the one person whom must not, under any circumstances, be vexed ( again ) ? The butler’s culinary abilities by no means anything to turn one’s nose up at, and to be waited on so dutifully by household staff may be a privilege only natural for any royal-born to enjoy. Still it’s with apprehension and dread Soma accepts the surely delectable platter of baked goods, mind in a spin in search of some sinister motive behind the innocent gesture. ❝ Y-you shouldn’t have — I mean, thank you kindly . . . !! Ciel’s khansama, s-sir . . . . . . ❞ Gaze rises to carefully regard his kind benefactor, like an OBEDIENT DOG fearful of the disciplining hand, waiting on some sort of go-ahead to sample the meal Soma hoped wouldn’t be his last.
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