Flowers (Sebasclaude)

Chapter Two: Questioning

((I also apologise for any random POV changes, for some reason I keep wanting to write in the first person))

By four o'clock the next morning Sebastian had finished the afore mentioned book. With a sigh, he put the book down on his bedside table, quite acutely aware that he'd been coughing all night, and was beginning to feel worse for it, when he spotted the small pile of petals lying on his sheets. Sebastian blinked, and rubbed his eyes. Yes, five or six flower petals -  fairly small, creamy ones - were lying scattered in front of him. Perhaps James had brought them in without him noticing... A little too tired to investigate the matter any further, Sebastian got up and chucked the flower petals in the bin, before deciding he might go and clean.
Sebastian often found himself cleaning when he was awake at the early hours of the morning, he wasn't sure why, but he supposed it was productive - he did have a bit of a thing about productivity... What's more, his house wasn't particularly close to the neighbours, so he could do anything save for the vacuuming without disturbing them, which was just as well, since his neighbours were actually quite nice people who also had a fair amount of faith in Sebastian's ability to actually function. Sebastian was very good at seeming like a functioning adult. With this logic in mind, Sebastian remembered that he hadn't dusted the bookshelves in a while, so he decided to do that.
Sebastian stood on top step ladder and cringed - he knew it had been a while, but had it been that long? Albeit, it would have been a perfectly normal amount of dust had it of been anyone else peering on their toes over the top of Old Possums Book of Practical Cats, but it wasn't anyone else, it was Sebastian, and he wasn't terribly pleased by the almost invisible, grey film that had settled over the top of his precious books. Especially Old Possums Book of Practical Cats - Sebastian wasn't generally much of a fan of something so close to nonsense verse, but it had cats in it so he made an exception, and he'd had it since he was seven; he was pleased that the book was still in near pristine condition, even eighteen years later. Having said that, it wouldn't be in pristine condition if he continued let things like this go, Sebastian thought, as he cleared the dust off his beloved books. Poor books...

Sebastian stepped down off the step ladder with a sigh, and cleared his throat, already dreading the day ahead. Rubbing his hands together to try and combat the arctic climate of his house, Sebastian folded step ladder and made his way into the kitchen, the tiled floor biting at his bare feet as he padded to the door that linked his kitchen to his garage, a garage which was probably cold enough to use as a second freezer by that point.
Sebastian put the step ladder back, and was away to find something else to do when he rather distinctly felt something in his throat. Choking, he leant against the wall with his hand to his mouth, until, still spluttering, something landed on his palm. Trying to get his breath back, Sebastian stared down at the small array of petals and lone, fuchsia foxglove that stood out against his porcelain skin, as if he believed that it if he looked at the mysterious flower hard enough it might provide him with answers. It didn't. Sebastian sighed, and dumped the plants in the bin, far too tired to make a connection between this and the case, before running a hand through his hair. There was probably some perfectly sensible explanation for it, but he certainly couldn't be bothered with working out what it was.

Sebastian arrived outside the police station with the heating in his car on full blast as rain thundered against the windscreen, once again without jacket. It had just warmed up in his car, as well... Rubbing his hands together to try and somewhat heat up his still icy fingers, Sebastian mentally prepared himself for another few hours in the frigid basement of the police station. It was fine, he could get some of the unbelievably shitty tea from the drinks machine...
Finally seizing himself, Sebastian opened his car door only to be greeted by a fresh wave of chilling air and what felt like a bucket of ice water to to the face, but still no snow. He got out and locked the car, and walked inside. The receptionist smiled at him, and Sebastian nodded at her, before inserting a fifty pence into the drinks machine and selecting tea. He still considered himself above resorting to coffee. "Not the best weather, is it?" The receptionist remarked, and it occurred to Sebastian that he didn't even know her name, despite the fact that she'd been the receptionist for the entirety of his time spent working there. She was attractive in a way that disregarded age, especially since Sebastian couldn't even take a guess at how old she must be, with her silvery hair, flawless, olive skin, and air of quiet confidence.
"Not really, no," he answered, concious of the fact that his voice was beginning to sound slightly scratchy. The machine finished dispensing vaguely brown water, shuddered, then went silent.
"Does the radiator not work down there?" She asked. Sebastian shrugged.
"Well, it makes a lot of noise but doesn't really heat the room up at all."
"Hi Hannah!" Alois greeted cheerily from behind Sebastian. "And hello Sebastian."
"Good morning," Sebastian and the receptionist (Hannah, presumably) replied in chorus, as Alois started forcing a hot chocolate out the protesting drinks machine.
Seeing as Alois and the receptionist had started chatting, and Sebastian didn't know either of them particularly well, he wandered down the stairs to the basement. Inside it was Ciel, which came as no surprise, as Claude would probably be running a little late and Alois was upstairs. "Morning," Ciel grumbled, still half asleep.
"Good morning." Sebastian sat down and took his bag off.
"What has literally everybody been telling you?" Ciel snapped, finally looking up at Sebastian and noticing his distinct lack of a jacket. "You are actually going to get hypothermia or something one of these days."
"I somehow doubt it," Sebastian replied, chuckling, before stopping because he could already feel his throat starting to itch.
"Did you find anything on the internet that could give us some insight into our train-wreck of a case?" Sebastian shook his head, and shifted the polystyrene cup around in his pale hands.
"Nothing outside the realms of fiction." Ciel raised one eyebrow imploringly. "Oh, there was just some malarky about some made up disease. It wasn't anything relevant." Ciel leant back in his chair and folded his arms, before gazing up at the ceiling. Then someone unceremoniously dumped some item of clothing onto Sebastian's lap.
"Excuse me, do I look like a coat rack to you?" Sebastian snapped, glaring at Claude, who sat down beside him disinterestedly. He already wasn't in the best of moods.
"A little, yeah." Sebastian scowled furiously, and picked Claude's coat up.
"I don't need it," he stated, trying to hand Claude his jacket back.
"Yes you do. Why else would have bought the tea from upstairs? Besides, you sound like shit." Sebastian flushed, and fixed his eyes on the wall.
"I appreciate your concern but I'm perfectly fine and I don't need your jacket." Sebastian heard a sigh from the top of the  doorway, followed by a giggle.
"Honestly, you two argue like a married couple," Alois remarked, putting his hot chocolate on the table and flopping down onto the nearest chair, a small smirk forming on his face at Sebastian and Claude's shocked reactions. "Ooh, and guess what? Our victim had a close friend, who suspects that our victim had romantic feelings for him. Could be a good lead - to what I've no idea, but it's a lead none the less."
"Who's interviewing him, then?" Ciel asked boredly. "Because I'm not." Claude leaned back in his chair and glanced between Sebastian and Alois.
"Uh, I think I've done my job here, plus I can't drive," Alois stated, folding his arms and looking over Sebastian, who let out a sigh.
"Okay. Where's he staying?"

Sebastian knocked on David Hickson's door, noting the fake holly wreath and Christmas lights strung up about the outside of the house, prompting a slight twinge of envy in him, though Sebastian pushed such thoughts aside when a young man opened the door - he was mostly unremarkable, looking an awful lot like a contestant off the Bachelor, but a little more sleep deprived. Sebastian pulled out his ID, and the man's face darkened. "I'm Sebastian Michaelis, I'm here about the recent death of Miss Rachael Valentine. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if it's a convenient time for you."
David Hickson shrugged, and stood aside to let Sebastian in - it was obvious from his face that Rachael's death had taken its toll. "Sure. I don't know how much I can tell you, though."

((Why did I make Sebastian such a tsundere in this? Also, I apologise for not stating who the victim was in the first chapter, as I wasn't entirely decided on it previously, but I still wanted to publish the chapter. And no, neither the victim nor the victim's friend are Black Butler character because I don't have the heart to kill off the main cast))