The Lady of Phantomhive; Ciel's Sister {Sebastian x Reader}

[23] Enter Jeremy Rathbone

"You mean to say there really is a thirteenth person?" Charles exclaims, finally showing some enthusiasm.

"Even I wasn't expecting that. Who would have thought..." Lau sighs, trailing off when Ciel turns to him. "What do you mean 'who could have thought that,' it was quite literally your suggestion!"

Bard side-steps to reveal a man dressed in all black, drenched from the raging storm outside. His hair was slicked back, not a single strand out of place despite him being soaked. Water drips from the end of his crooked nose and his prominent brows draw together as he pulls against the rope that ties his wrists together, most likely a precautionary measure taken by the servants,

"Who the hell is this guy?" Charles asks over the hesitant murmurs of your guests.

"Jeremy," Ciel begins, rising from his chair to stand by where you sit on the loveseat. "It's been quite a while, no?"

You raise an eyebrow to aid your play-along as your eyes trail over the man who kneels before you.

"Oh? Is this an old friend of yours? This old guy?" Lau asks, his hand moving from Ran-Mao's hip to her waist as he angles himself to get a better look at your new guest.

"Y-yes," Ciel stutters. "You could say that," you finish for him, saving Ciel from having to deal with Lau's brazen lack of subtlety.

"This is Jeremy Rathbone." You stand, taking a few steps to place yourself just before where Jeremy kneels. His face was one you had not seen before, but the look in his dark brown eyes resemble someone you used to know. He seemed so familiar.

Deliciously so.

"He's rather popular around here. He works prominently as an advisor to the local church," you explain.

Oh the irony.

"Oh, and we're just expected to trust a suspicious person who shows up in the middle of the night—much less a terribly stormy night like this—and suddenly everything's all taken care of?" Woodley interjects, once again rising to his feet as he points a menacing finger at you and your brother.

"Actually, that accusation is utter nonsense, Mr. Woodley," Jeremy states, effortlessly rising to his feet without the use of his arms before coming face-to-face with Woodley in merely three graceful strides that carry him across the room.

"H-how do you know my name?" Woodley inquires, his voice shaking as Jeremy leans closer.

"It's quite obvious actually. Your ring gives it away. Your family name is the only one who uses gems cut as extravagantly as the one on your finger."

Jeremy leaves no time for questions, much less comprehending just how he came to such an accurate conclusion in such a short time. And from such a distance? But the attention in the room shifts as Jeremy turns his focus to Bard, who now carries a black bag in his hand.

"Would you mind opening my bag?" The sentence comes out more like a demand than a question, but Bard complies despite his initial hesitation, only to reveal a large white bird inside.

"Woah!" Finny cries, "It's Mr. Sebastian's delivery owl!"

"How did it get in there?" Mey-rin asks, astounded.

"Is it dead?" Bard mutters under his breath, taking a long, much needed drag from the cigarette that dangles between his lips.

"No," Jeremy responds, sounding almost offended that she would think he'd do such a thing. "But it did resist, so I put it to sleep with some medicine I happened to have on me at the time. It will wake up soon. My lady," he continues without missing a beat, turning toward you, "would you mind taking a look at the owl's leg?"