Working in an opium den wasn't the future your younger self imagined. Your dreams were bigger, more ambitious, constantly picturing a lavish life in a foreign country.

The foreign country aspect, fate had understood. But not the lavish part—despite working for a Chinese aristocrat. The air is thick, something you struggled to handle a couple years back when you started working in the dens Lau operates. Your muscles ache, having been subjected to ensuring everything runs smoothly.

Usually you aren't required to be so active. Ever since the presumed Earl Phantomhive began seeking refuge in this lair, bringing along a handful of servants, things have changed. You've been called in more often than before, handed more work, more tasks, more more more.

However you are nothing if not perseverent. Hardworking. Keen of eye to the point where you can spot a disaster from miles away: one of your coworkers about to stumble over her own feet, undoubtedly about to drop the tray she holds and make a mess. Your steps are quick yet no less smooth, hand sliding to stabilize her and the tray she holds.

"Careful," You mumble. A mere whisper, nothing that can attract any clients. Or.. so you thought.

Your body briefly relaxes once she thanks you and heads off, then tenses again as a nearby voice rings through your ears. "You've got quick reflexes." Baldroy quips, a weary grin settled across his features and a cigarette nestled inbetween his lips.