May Rin slipped her heavy glasses up off her face a moment to wipe at the hot itchy spots they'd created either side of her nose in the late-day July heat. She stood a moment with her eyes closed, face turned to a sudden breeze rippling through the last sheet to be taken down from a hard day's work doing laundry. She kept her balance by holding onto the clothes line with one hand feeling the tiredness wash through her, glad her hard day's work was nearly over.

One last push and then I can have a nice long sit-down, and maybe a cup of tea.

It was hard but purposeful work she wasn't ashamed of she was doing now, work that didn't torment her conscience the way she was tormented when she was practically married to her sniper rifle, but one thing hadn't changed: her sense of isolation.

An assassin is alone nearly all the time, unable to make lasting friendships or serious, lasting love relationships. It was too dangerous in far too many ways, plus he'd have never let her. That life hadn't been her choice but she'd seen no way out of it until the dark butler'd come along and changed everything for her.

She never asked what happened to her former boss who had kept her like a slave, but she suspected he no longer lived. That was alright with her. One of the things that made her so good at her job was she suspected a lot of things but knew how to keep her mouth shut and her thoughts to herself. She suspected a lot of things about the man who'd set her free and given he this job as a maid as well—you can't live in the same household with people without learning things, seeing things, stumbling across secrets...but Mei Rin knew how to keep her eyes open and her mouth shut, qualities much appreciated in the Phantomhive household.

She felt unusually introspective today, she supposed, because it was an anniversary of sorts. A year now since the startlingly handsome butler had stopped her as she was about to kill a politician, shoot him right between the eyes as he held his child in his arms in the seeming security of his own garden. A year ago today he'd laid his hand on her shoulder and changed her life, set her free.

A whole year now. A better year, a freer one too, but still a lonely one. She was all alone in this house too—oh not literally, there was the gardener-boy, the soldier-cook, and the retired Japanese butler for company. And she got to set eyes on the beautiful butler off and on during the day, a lovely treat, and the young master was kind, if distant, but she was the only woman in the household and sometimes that was hard.

It was okay though; she was used to being alone. She just sometimes missed the family she'd once been part of in the far-off past. By co-incidence this day, the day the butler had approached her a year ago, had also been her mother's birthday, so, she mused as she hand washed her stockings and smalls and hung them up in her room, she had two reasons for feeling a bit wistful on this day.

She was just about to open the window over her bed to see if she could tempt the garden cat to come visit her when she spotted something that didn't belong sitting atop her dresser. It was something about the size of a hat box wrapped in tissue paper and held together with a large scarlet bow.

She carefully untied the silk ribbon, thinking of all the things she could do with it, and carefully pulled back the tissue paper. Inside was a china plate with a myriad of sweet treats, and atop that, a matching cup and saucer, filled with hand-made chocolates and a small package of tea-darjeerling, monsoon flush-her very favourite. Just beneath the cup and saucer was a small envelope of heavy paper. She eagerly slipped it out and read the short note inside, knowing both the sweets and the note bore the hallmarks of having come from the handsome butler who'd changed her life a year ago.

It was a short, formal note from the young master, thanking her for her joining the household and extending a wish that she was happy in her work and position and also suggested she might like a little time off or perhaps a bonus to do a little personal shopping with to inform the butler. It was signed by the young earl himself, but she recognised the handwriting: the note had really come from the Phantomhive butler, just as the sweets and the tea. She could almost hear him in her head saying If a butler of the Phantomhives couldn't keep track of something so simple as an anniversary or someone's favourite tea, what would become of us?

May Rin smiled as she sat on her bed, petting the garden cat and munching on a macaroon as the sunlight of another busy day slowly faded. It was lonely being the only woman at the Phantomhive estate, but she was appreciated here and needed, and she found, on reflection, it was quite a satisfying life, yes it was.