England is beautiful in the spring, but with the crisp weather and the new year comes a new line up of balls that Diedrich must attend. And oh, does he loathe them as much as he loathes the ferry across the channel to get to them.

You can feel the tension radiating off of him, the rigid way he holds his posture as the two of you stand at the edge of the hall. Diedrich has never enjoyed these gathering, but tonight seems to weigh on him even more, the late evening glass of whiskey in his hand speaking for itself.

When you shift closer to him, his green eyes flicker toward you and his hand reflexively drops to your hip as he leans in to whisper to you. "I'm tired of pretending to care about pleasantries," Diedrich huffs, evidently frustrated. You'd think Vincent had dragged him to Phantomhive manor by the scruff of the neck with how he's protesting.