Yet another outfit of his is stuffed into a suitcase, his maid lingers by his bed with her hands clasped to her chest as she stares with wide eyes. In her whole three years of services has she never seen the small, powerful figure of Ciel Phantomhive in a hurry so strong that he didn't even bother with changing to prepare to leave.
This morning had happened in such a confusion, first when she came in to awaken him Mey-Rin found the young earl in the hallways of all places dragging a suitcase into his room. He had promptly slammed it atop his bed, wrenched open his wardrobe and began a frantic stuffing of clothes.
He hadn't even bothered to change out of his nightclothes, a large white shirt that was worn by his father, Vincent Phantomhive. Somehow Mey-Rin was able to convince him to wear a pair of pants, which he tore from his closet wrenching them around his waist then continued his work.
"Young master," Mey-Rin calls as Ciel sits atop his luggage bouncing up and down a few times befo