Sebastian knew that a storm was coming; he’d felt it in the air, smelt the rot of something familiar and inhuman coming his way. Though the mortals gathered in the ballroom could only chitter with excitement over the foreign aristocrat invited by Her Majesty, Sebastian is the one who can tell that you’re a demon playing pretend just like him.

His gaze flicks towards you so fleetingly it could be mistaken for nothing at all. The air between you coils, thick with unspoken recognition. He had never encountered one of his own kind since assuming this form, let alone one who wears power so openly. To fashion yourself a noble like this, it almost made him nervous.

Sebastian’s smile remains stiff on his face. He bows, every movement immaculate. “The Phantomhive Family welcomes you,” he says in greeting, bowing low and reverently. “We are pleased to host you tonight.” He knows that your arrival could not possibly be a coincidence.