It’s a bitter autumn morning when Sebastian finds himself in the situation he wound up in exactly seventeen years ago: walking up to a man with shaggy, lavender hair, whose tattoos of constellations peek below the sleeves of his cape.
Sebastian’s footsteps are silent against the wooden flooring, and he’s almost surprised when Blavat turns to face him, shrugs, and briefly flashes a card before his eyes. His bored expression wears into a slight little smile. “Care to tell me what you’re doing here, hm?”
It brings an irritating sense of deja vu.
He narrows his eyes. “Wouldn’t you know already, Mr. Fortune Teller?”
“I do,” he states, hums, and shifts on his feet. “But I’m curious-- I want to know why you think you’re here.”
“You’re absolutely obnoxious.”
“Awh, but you used to love that about me, don’t you remember?” When he gets no reply, Blavat shrugs. “You called my playful antics lovely once.” He winks, then, with a slight dip of his head. “Suppose that’s why you’re here?”
“I am here on behalf of the lord Phantomhive, Sky. My young master has requested I bring him some cards from here, can you do that much?” Sebastian pauses to add pointed weight to the words. “I am not here, to start something up again that has, of course, long been over.”
Blavat’s blue gaze narrows. “Wouldn’t be over if you hadn’t been so careless…”
“What was that?”
He turns on his heel and starts toward a curtain. “Oh, absolutely nothing! I’ll get those cards for you, they’re in the back.” He pauses then, footfalls halting across the floor. “If you want to come with me.”
Despite himself, Sebastian follows.
As he ducks through the curtain and beads, he mutters, “From any other point of view it would seem it should be the other way around with the flirtatious manner, would it not? You, Blavat, are the one who turned away, if I remember correctly.”
That earns him a roll of the other’s eyes, and a low scoff under his breath. “You and your perfect English…” He folds his arms-- which, Sebastian notices offhandedly, sparkle just a little with glitter that had fallen out of his lavender hair. “What kind of cards does your kid need?” He’s standing at a shelf, picking through small boxes of cards. “Tarot cards, face cards, a few kinds of my own design… or something darker?”
“He didn’t state specifically, but,” he says, “knowing the young master, he’d want the most obscure kind you have-- the darker type.”
With that, Blavat sifts through a few more before he slips one of the small boxes into his hand. But, then, when he turns to face Sebastian, he holds them behind his back. “Which one?” he prompts, quirking a eyebrow to punctuate the jesting arch in his tone.
Sebastian huffs, frustrated, under his breath as he reaches for them. “Blavat, enough with your--” He swats another hand behind his back to grab at the cards to no avail. “Sky. Cards, please.” A long, exasperated signature sigh of his fills the space where he wishes a level-headed reply would be. “I am not in the kind of position as of now to make a scene.” He closes his eyes, and drops his attempts at getting the box that way. “What is it going to take?”
He pretends to think for a moment, before saying, “I mean, I wouldn’t complain with a kiss or two.”
The little toothy smirk Blavat gives him lights the final match. He darts a hand forward, pins the man square to the shelves behind him, but it only deepens the other’s smile.
“Fine,” he says. “But cards first.” He grits his teeth behind his lip, but maintains composure. Blavat holds out the deck to him with his free hand, lets it slide into his palm... After a defeated sigh, he gives Blavat a smile of his own, and something close to a wink.
“Keep this a secret, hm?”