Sebastian takes one look at butler and mistress, at Grell Sutcliff and Madam Red, and he discerns death. The human, in particular, hides darkness under her sparkling facade. She is a flame, red with rage, rapidly burning itself out.

When she refuses to disguise her lust (a less demonic butler would accuse her of harassment), he acquiesces, each knowing full well that they might attempt to kill the other the next day. As they bury themselves in ivory skin and red or raven hair, he hears her repeating a word, loosely formed, ripped out by each gasp.

"Vincent, Vincent, Vincent . . ."