The frailty of humankind upsets Sebastian. If they turn their head a certain way or are stricken by a powerful surge of emotion, they can simply drop dead. Similarly, one bodily blow can be their demise. There were certain humans Sebastian was not particularly inclined to have die, and you were one of them.

“It would not do for a member of the Phantomhive Estate to succumb to such crude injuries,” quips Sebastian as he dresses your wounds, his movements precise and quick. You’d been attacked with the rest of the staff under the cover of night while he was away. While you had prevailed in the end, the amount of blood you lost was staggering, and if you were not the resident doctor, perhaps you would have died long before his return to the estate.

“So you had better recover.” Of all the troublesome members of staff, Sebastian would detest losing you the most. He dabs a cloth over the sweat beading on your forehead. “Understood?”