"Do you know where were going my lord?" I ask. 

"Of course I do fool." He hisses.

"Oh? And where is that?" I ask.

"Must you need to ask for everything?" He glares at me.

"If you don't want to, it doesn't need to be." I say.

"Of course." He rolls his eye.

Cheeky brat.

"We're going to visit an old family friend. Once a French prime minister." He says.

"And what are you planning on doing?" I ask.

"Question him obviously." He sighs.

"Very good, my lord." I open the door for him.

I close it behind him. He's been concered with this for so long. I quite enjoy seeing him flustered and angry. It is quite amusing. We walk up the stairs. This place reeks of oldness. Decay has rotted the railings and the celling. 

"This place is a filthy mess." He whines.

I let out a small breath. I open the door to his room.

"Ciel? What on earth are you doing here?" The man asks.

"You're Johnson?" He asks. 

"Of course I am! Are you fou?!" Johnson yells.

"My lord, that means-" I start.

"I know what it means. I assure you I am not crazy. I want to talk to you about these murders." He says.

"Oh, okay. Je suise desole." He says.

"He means he's sorry." I whisper in his ear.

"Sebastian, I will speak to him privately. See what else you can find out from the locals." Ciel orders me.

"Yes, my young lord." I say.