"Why have you called me here, My Lord?"

"Sebastian, we need to talk."

"Of course, My Lord."

"I'm going to be frank. Please don't take this personally."

"What do you mean, My Lord?"

"Pleasestopusingallmysilverwaretomurderpeople."

"...My Lord?"

"Don't use my silverware to kill people."

"But...but why, My Lord? Silverware is usually the most convenient and sharpest thing I have when an attack occurs!"

"Convenient for you, maybe. All the cutlery in this house is of top quality."

"Of course, My Lord, I tend to them myself."

"Have you ever wondered how we still have more utensils after you go and use it all to commit such gruesome acts against humanity?"

"No, but—"

"I keep having to buy more! The type of silverware that someone of my status needs to have is not cheap! Do you have any idea how much I spend on silverware alone?"

"Surely not—"

"Seven percent, Sebastian. Seven percent of all profits from the Funtom Corporation goes into utensils alone. I could be using that seven percent to open up more factories in America, but no, I have to use it to be able to eat properly! I've gotten to the point where I'm considering mass ordering the damn things so that I don't have to buy so much so often!"

"My Lord, unfortunately—"

"And the rest of the servants! I keep having to make up more and more outlandish lies about where all the silverware has gone! I just told Bard that I sent them all to be washed in the holy waters of India! You're lucky that he's stupid enough to believe me!"

"My Lord, let me speak."

"...fine."

"What am I supposed to do? All the guns in this house are meant solely for Mey-Rin and you only have one yourself, which you refuse to part with. There are no actual bladed weapons because you constantly live in fear that Finny would get his hands on them. The closest thing to an actual weapon that I can get are Bard's ridiculous cannons and flamethrowers."

"Bard has a flamethrower!?"

"Not anymore, he doesn't. I confiscated it and turned it over to the authorities."

"Why didn't you keep it? Surely it would work better than cutlery!"

"It just doesn't have as much finesse."

"Sebastian—"

"My Lord?"

"I'm giving you two options—either you gather each piece of silverware you use to murder people and bring it back, or you can use these."

"A box?"

"No, the things inside the box."

"My Lord…"

"Aren't they wonderful? You can use as many as you like and I can get many more for much cheaper!"

"My Lord, these are plastic utensils."

"And? Surely you can make use of them. After all, aren't you one hell of a butler?"

"You brat…"

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing, My Lord. Nothing at all."

The End