video; /cracking knuckles
[ His appearance causes the slightest moment of surprise but then, this is easily cleared from his face as he tries to make sense of the entire situation. He was in prison. With his master. Who was still alive. And their contract was still in effect. Without Ciel Phantomhive.
Claude Faustus, welcome to your own personal hell.
He can near feel bile on his tongue from seeing those eyes again, eyes that were, from when he last checked that particular tone of glass and flat dirty blue. But he steels himself. The boy was here. There was no backing out from it now. Claude takes a moment to adjust his glasses though, focusing on that face he'd rather smother under a pillow. ]