AUTHOR NOTE: Today is Reim's birthday, so I thought I might as well post this thing I've had sitting in my computer. Happy birthday Reim, I'm glad you're not dead yet.

Reim wove his way through Shelly Rainworth's flower garden, silent under Duke Barma's elongated shadow, counting the ways in which he'd rather be spending his time.

It wasn't that he dreaded Barma's company (au contraire; he'd grown numb to it long ago), but it'd been five months since his last visit to the Rainsworth estate, and thus, five months since Xerxes Break had punched him in the face.

The fist had caught him so suddenly, and just when Reim had begun to believe that he'd earned a bit of the man's trust. He didn't like to be distrusted, and he loathed confrontation of any sort, and he especially feared to be hated.

What was he supposed to do if he encountered the man again?

The question gnawed at his nerves as they continued along a flowery hedge maze, stooping under an arch of yellow roses. Their route was somewhat convoluted, but it took them to the rear doors of the mansion's hall; 'the Barma Entrance,' Reim fancied it, because it was so horridly informal that only Duke Barma could use it with grace and get by unscathed by the duchess's wrath. For every trip to House Rainsworth that Reim could remember, his duke had never used any other door.

"Duke Barma!" A tiny voice called out from somewhere in the garden, drawing Reim out of his thoughts. "Duke Barma! Duke Barma!"

Little Sharon Rainsworth, rosy-cheeked and done up in a frilly white dress, darted into their path like a scuttling squirrel. When she caught sight of Reim, her hazel eyes went wide. "Oh, Duke Barma, you did bring him!" As she jumped happily, her bow slid farther down her head, crooked and nearly undone. As a matter of fact, much of her propriety seemed undone; her dress was trimmed in a layer of dirt, its ruffles flattened and wrinkled as if she'd been traipsing through the garden all morning.

"My Lady Sharon, have you been wandering outside the mansion without a servant?" Barma questioned.

"No, Xarx-nii was with me!" the little girl insisted.

Oh no. Reim swallowed and glanced around apprehensively for a sign of the man.

"Ah. Xarx-nii, of course," Barma said, not without a slight tinge of disapproval in his voice. It wasn't something Sharon would notice, but Reim possessed the rare ability to read the duke's tone, and he knew all to well of Barma's distaste for the 'Rainsworth's unsightly new pet,' Xerxes Break. "It seems he's left you, dear."

"No he didn't. We went to set up our tea party, but mother saw your carriage in the window, so I came to see if Reim was here. Can I use Reim instead?"

"You may," Barma shrugged.

Use me for what…?

"Sharon Rainsworth, where on earth have your manners disappeared to?" a new voice interrupted.

"Oh!" Sharon flinched and quickly righted herself, crossing her left foot behind her right and pinching up the skirts of her dress with delicate fingers. "Good afternoon, Duke Barma," she managed haphazardly, wobbling in her curtsey.

"A bit late for formalities now, love." Shelly Rainsworth raised an eyebrow as she came up behind her daughter, placing her gloved hands onto Sharon's shoulders. "Welcome, Duke Barma," she acknowledged with a nod.

Sharon turned to her mother. "But I was only asking them—"

"Sharon dear, the asking comes second." Shelly cupped her daughter's face with both hands, and Sharon craned her head back to meet her mother's eyes, nodding impatiently in agreement. "Go on now, the tea will get cold." Shelly motioned toward the mansion, and dutifully, Sharon curtsied her farewell, throwing Reim a playful "See you soon!"

"My apologies, Duke Barma. She grows more fiery every day," Shelly spoke, unable to mask the glowing pride in her grin as she watched her young daughter scurry off through the garden.

"Quite like her grandmother," Barma added. "The older she grows, the more plain to see she's been blessed with the classic Rainsworth beauty."

"Oh you mustn't flatter, Barma, my mother's warned me about you time and again," Shelly spoke with a devious smile. All the same, she offered him a welcoming hand. "I suppose you've come here to speak with her. I was told you'd arrive tomorrow, but I saw your carriage out the window."

"Eagerness set me on an early course, forgive me. Surely one of your servants can—"

Shelly looped her arm gracefully through the duke's and guided him toward the mansion. "It's no matter," she said with a gentle laugh, "I was on my way to mother's chambers anyhow, I'll take you there. The way she keeps herself cooped up in that stuffy room…Really, I would think you'd be able to coax her out of bed."

Reim proceeded in their wake like an obedient pup.

"It's been hard on her to walk lately," she added more quietly, leaning in. "It's put her in a sour mood, surely you understand…" Shelly's voice trailed off as she glanced behind her, eyes shifting toward Reim…

Oh, look, a smudge on my glasses, Reim thought loudly, lifting them off his nose and wiping furiously at the lens with a handkerchief he'd pulled from his pocket. He hummed to himself, sensing the conversation was one he shouldn't be hearing, and carried on that way until they reached the doors of the rear entrance.

Anyhow, he figured if he kept his focus toward the ground, he might become somewhat invisible, and thus avoid any unfortunate run-ins with a particularly unfortunate someone.

The moment they stepped foot in the hall, Reim lifted the cloak off Barma's shoulders and slung it over the nearby coat hanger. Barma turned to him. "Well, Reim, you know where you're needed. Off to Sharon with you."

"I—me?"

"When last I checked, that is who you were."

"She does miss your company," Shelly admitted.

It was still a mystery to him how he'd managed to become Sharon's favourite playmate in the first place.

"Reim!" A childish squeak resounded through the hall. Sharon arrived breathless but beaming, and he couldn't help but notice that she'd done up her hair with a fresh pink ribbon and changed into a clean blue tea dress. "It's time for the guest to arrive!" Sharon clapped her hands and hopped to his side.

"But Milady, I am a guest."

"I know! Now come with me, Reim." She took up his right hand and pulled him forward down the corridor. "We've got everything set up, and we didn't even have any visitors, but now we do!"

We?

"This is the royal palace, but you can be the duke who came to visit," she explained, her tiny grip on his hand tightening excitedly.

Barma raised an eyebrow. "There now, Reim, don't tell me you'd pass up the opportunity for a dukedom," he said smugly.

"…Duke?" Duke Lunettes? Duke Lunettes?

That sounded…rather nice, if he was entirely honest. There was no harm in pretending, right? "Well, Lady Sharon, if you insist…"

Sharon nodded. "In my stories, the guests always come from somewhere far away—another kingdom, or an entirely other country across the sea, things like that. So pretend you're from far away, alright?" She stopped before a pair of plain wooden doors and opened one just enough to slip inside, but when Reim tried to follow, he felt her hands pushing at his stomach. "No not yet! You have to knock on the door first." She said it like it should've been obvious.

"Knock?"

"Yes, knock."

"Alright…"

"Okay!" She said breathlessly, and the door slammed shut in his face.

Reim glanced one last time at Duke Barma—who gave a curt nod in response—before heaving a sigh and knocking thrice on the door.

Xerxes Break answered it.

Reim toppled backward in shock and righted himself gracelessly, adjusting his glasses because…well, that was what he did when he felt the sudden urge to run and hide, or perhaps to die. As he fumbled with his glasses, however, the shock turned to mortification.

The figure in the threshold was Xerxes, but at the same time, it wasn't. His hair was so short, and sloppily trimmed at the edges, so that stray locks jutted unevenly on either side of his head. The bandage around his empty left eye socket had vanished, replaced by a curtain of thick whitish locks, and his one good eye was closed contentedly, matching the undeniable aura of calm that had—by some miracle—taken hold of his smile.

"The princess will see you now," he said.

"T-thank you…Mister Break…?"

Xerxes shook his head. "Call me 'Mister Servant,' she likes that," he whispered, flitting an eyebrow and swinging the door open wide.

It appeared they'd set their game in one of the Rainsworths' many parlours, though the dainty Rainsworth furniture had been pushed aside to make room for a mess of books and toys. Sharon had thrown a blanket over a small circular table and sat patiently behind it, her legs crossed on a fluffy white pillow, a crown of pink flowers ringing her head.

"Princess, your guest has arrived," Xerxes Break spoke with a bow. "Duke Lunettes, just as you expected."

"Thank you, Mister Servant." Sharon inclined her head to him and folded her hands in her lap.

"Have a seat, Sir Duke Lunettes." Xerxes Break gestured to the small table.

"Thank you," Reim said awkwardly. He navigated over a sea of dolls and plush animals and sat down beside Sharon, on a cushion presumably meant for him—

"No, that's Xarx-ni's spot," Sharon whispered.

"Oh, sorry."

"That's okay."

Reim moved to a cushion-less spot across from her. He cleared his throat and began to adjust and re-adjust his glasses; a sure sign he was making a fool of himself. Duke Barma did this to me on purpose. He knew Xerxes Break would be here. He probably wants me to get punched again. He was terribly amused the last time.

However, Xerxes didn't seem to be in a punching sort of mood. Reim could hardly fathom what mood had possessed the man today. It was so unlike his usual behaviour.

"He travelled a long way just to meet with you, Princess," Xerxes said happily. "I wonder if his manners are as horrid as a rumours say."

Reim's stomach dropped, until realising that Xerxes was only playing. He…was playing, wasn't he? Reim was sure his manners weren't all that bad…Barma had never said anything about them, and surely he would've if—

"Mister Servant, we mustn't talk about our guests when they're right in front of us," Sharon said.

"Ah, you're right, as always. I'm sorry Princess, forgive me!"

"That's alright," Sharon giggled.

What on earth has gotten into this man?

Xerxes took his seat beside Sharon and she patted him on the head. They were still the strangest pair that Reim had ever seen, that much hadn't changed, but Xerxes seemed to mind less when she touched him, and Reim supposed that was a good thing. Although, he wasn't sure why it mattered to him in the first place. Perhaps because there was a slight thought in him that this strange and unfriendly man might've been dead by now, perhaps of his own accord.

"Would you like some tea first, Duke Lunettes?" Sharon asked him.

One of the tall windows let in a slant of light over the table's display, and only then did Reim realise what lengths Sharon had gone to just to prepare this. A painted teapot sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by bunches of wildflowers and four lidded trays that looked to be made of the finest china.

"Um, tea would be nice." Finally, something else to do with his hands other than fiddle aimlessly with his glasses.

"Okay," she said. On cue, Xerxes bent forward and poured the teapot's contents into Reim's flowery cup. Without asking, he plopped in four cubes of sugar and snuck the fifth between his teeth. Reim watched him chew it, horrorstruck.

The hair, the airy smile, the sugar—Has he finally gone mad?

"I asked one of the servants to make it peppermint!" Sharon grinned. "Mother said I could have it today."

Reim stirred his tea and nodded. He took a cautious sip. "Mm, it's…sugary."

Xerxes smiled at him and shrugged. "Your welcome."

"Now we can eat. Oh, which one do you want, Duke Lunettes? The square dish or the circle dish or the oval one?" she offered, pointing to each. "The guest gets to pick first. Right Xarx-nii?"

"Of course."

He couldn't see what was inside them, but he assumed it hardly mattered. "The square one?"

"Okay," Sharon said gently. The lid clinked delicately as she lifted it, revealing a pile of hard candies in twisted wrappers. She worked with fervent care, as if the fine china was something vastly important, or perhaps it was a privilege to be able to use it. "Would you like a pink one?"

Was there a point in turning it down? "That'd be nice."

Within minutes, however, he found his plate covered in hard candies of every colour, along with other sweets and lollipops and small cookies and tarts and even a few stray sugar cubes, because Sharon insisted his plate wasn't full enough. All the while she talked on and on about 'the goings on of her country,' likely repeating things she'd heard from books (she kept mentioning 'concubines,' and he was quite sure she had no idea what that meant).

Xerxes was unnaturally attentive and in-character and clung to her every word, nodding in agreement over certain things and throwing out overwrought compliments that made the little girl smile and laugh, and sit a bit taller on her pillow with pride. As foreign as Xerxes's behavior was, it was at least more pleasant than what Reim was used to. He found himself concentrating on Xerxes's words and reactions rather than on Sharon herself.

Everything seemed alright (except perhaps his stomach) until Sharon stood up and gasped in horror.

"I left the cakes in the kitchen!"

I'm going to vomit.

"Allow me, Princess." Xerxes was about to stand, but Sharon beat him to it.

"No no, I'll get it!"

No, Reim thought.

"If you insist, princess."

No!

"I'll be back in a moment, just tell the duke about boring things until I get back!" And she took off out the door.

Sharon, come back!

Things became suddenly quiet as the door shut behind her. The ticking of a grandfather clock grew suddenly prominent in Reim's ears.

Great. Just perfect.

He tried to mull over his own thoughts in the growing silence, but Xerxes's presence lingered in the corner of his eye and seemed to grow with every passing second. He glanced at Xerxes's plate—filled to the brim with sweets—and heard the crunching of yet another candy.

"She wanted to get the cakes herself because she wanted to sneak one into her mouth without us noticing," Xerxes explained after a while, sucking on his sweet. "But don't tell her I told you."

Reim tried not to sigh in relief at the broken ice between them. "I see. She…and you…really like sweets," he spoke, trying to sound as natural as possible. Perhaps he's forgotten about the punch? Better that I don't bring it up, right? Perhaps he hadn't meant it, anyway. Perhaps my anxiety is all for naught. "I…I hadn't realised you were such a sweet-tooth." That didn't sound insulting, did it?

Xerxes gave a brief laugh, a distinctive ringing sound that Reim had never heard before. "And I see you aren't."

"Um," Reim glanced down at his plate, "Well, I'm not so accustomed to eating sweets for dinner, no." Duke Barma, Duchess Sheryl, and the Lady Shelly were likely dining on fresh loaves of buttered bread and fine wine right about now. Barma usually allowed him a glass of wine…

Silence, silence, more silence.

Reim wracked his brains for something else to say, but all that came to mind was his overwhelming curiosity about Xerxes's transformation. Who cut your hair? And why did you cut your hair in the first place? And why are you smiling like that? Would he punch me again if I tried to ask? "You…seem different than when I saw you last," Reim tried. "That is, I mean, you cut your hair, so you look different."

"Ah, you've noticed." Xerxes sent him a sidelong glance. "You're more attentive than you look, aren't you?" He shrugged. "I'm afraid I can't take all the credit for the hair, the Lady Sharon helped."

Reim smiled a bit nervously. "It seems she enjoys being with you, doesn't she?"

"Oh, I don't know. She just went off to the kitchens without me."

"Well, I only mean that she seems rather attached. That's nice." He laughed, partly out of relief that Xerxes was being so responsive. "It must make your days interesting, having a little girl following you around and dragging you into her games." Perhaps we can engage in a normal conversation?

But for a moment, that familiar distraught, far-off look returned to Xerxes's face. "It's not like that," he said flatly, scarily similar to the bothered tone that Reim remembered. "Anyhow," his frowned slipped upward into a smile, "I heard that you joined Pandora."

"Um, yes. A few months ago. Did Sharon mention that to you?"

"Yes, something like that," Xerxes said with a wave of his hand. "But first, I must make an apology." His red eye looked upward in thought—or was it annoyance? He began to speak as if reciting a poem: "In this past year, I've been quite nasty to you, but please don't take it personally. As you could probably tell, the problem was me. However, I'm ready to make amends, and would like to start with a fresh slate, if you'd be willing to forgive me my faults." Then he huffed a sigh, as if saying those words had tired him out. "Although I'm only apologizing because the Lady Shelly ordered me do, and I still find you to be slightly annoying." And then he grinned. "Well, now that that silly nonsense is over with, I have a chain so I'm going to join Pandora, and I need you to be my reference."

"I—what?"

Xerxes sighed dramatically and leaned back, speaking around the lollipop on his tongue. "I'm going to join Pandora. I've contracted with a chain. I need a reference, and I was hoping it could be you."

"I—you're a contractor?" Normally contracts weren't permitted until after one joined Pandora. And even then, Reim himself hadn't even made a contract yet!

Xerxes closed his eye and continued to smile. "It's true, you're looking at brand new legal contractor, thanks to the Rainsworth door. That blood seal business sure is handy, isn't it? Strange little invention, that."

"How did…?!"

"I know I know, how could I possibly want go back through that door when I came out of it half dead? It wasn't so bad."

"I…Pandora?"

"Why not? I am a servant of one of the great households, like you. I consider it my rightful duty. But you know how it goes; I can't join unless I have a reference, but household family members aren't allowed to write them, and you're the only person I know outside the Rainsworths."

"Um…"

"I can't help it, I don't get out much. And I think you've noticed nobody really likes me anyway," he laughed.

"But, your chain…?"

"Mad Hatter." A mischevious grin spread across Xerxes's face.

"Mad Hatter?"

"According to record, I'm the first to contract with it. I'm special. Or just lucky. Or unlucky, I can't tell which."

"Unlucky?"

Xerxes's voice grew quieter and full of intrigue. "Mad Hatter is powerful, maybe a little too powerful. I was testing its abilities the other day, you see."

"Abilities?"

"Shelly's idea. Anyhow, it can negate and destroy the power of the Abyss. Sounds fancy, doesn't it? If you ask me, that ability is a rare and useful trait. That's what Shelly told me, anyway. But," he leaned in dramatically, and Reim couldn't help but lean in as well, frowning. "It's a somewhat gruesome chain. I was coughing up quite a lot of blood afterward." He grimaced at the floor. "Annoying if that's going to become a habit. But I can't complain."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm glad for it."

"Why?"

"Because I am." He put a finger up to his grinning lips and whispered, "Don't tell the princess," just as Sharon came through the door with a tray of small cakes balancing in her arms.

Xerxes stood up and met her in the doorway. "Hmm. It seems one cake is missing, princess."

"No it isn't!" Sharon proclaimed, licking the crumbs from her lips.

Reim blinked, unable to do much else as he tried to comprehend everything Xerxes had just told him—and he'd told so much, which was baffling in itself. Xerxes Break had never been a talkative one, more likely to yell than to talk, in any case. From the moment of his rescue at the Rainsworth door, he was a man drawn in on himself, lost to the real world and likely a willing captive of whatever strange world was thriving in his mind. I used to think a part of his very soul might still be trapped in the depths of the Abyss, Reim thought.

In his visits to the Rainsworth manor, he had seen the man retreat further and further into that odd, invisible realm of his. His explosive fits of anger subsided over time into annoyed, apathetic responses and vague stares out the window. He'd always seemed to maintain a powerful aversion to human interaction, however. When Xerxes had begun to ignore him rather than yell at him for breathing his air, Reim had considered it progress, so to see Xerxes so willing to speak—and so willing to join Pandora, of all things…

What on earth have the Rainsworths done to you?

This man who hated everything…This wounded animal…

Shelly killed it and replaced it with a happy, harmless little critter from the pet shop.

Xerxes sent him a glance from across the table, and for a moment Reim thought he might've said that allowed. He quickly snatched a chocolate cake off its tray and adjusted his glasses.

There's still something not quite right about him, Reim told himself, trying not to stare. Duke Barma was certain the man was not to be trusted, and his warnings—hardly ever unfounded—had put Reim on his guard months ago. The fact that he'd contracted such a powerful chain without Pandora's authorization was suspicious in itself, and yet…

"Xarx-nii, would serve me some tea?"

Reim could see it; he could tell by the way they interacted, by the way Sharon stared at Xerxes Break with happy little stars in her eyes, by the way he served her tea and she patted him once again atop the head and he almost seemed to lean into the touch…

There was something honest in that new, peculiar smile.

He was a little odd, but so what?

"More tea, Duke Lunettes?" Xerxes lifted an eyebrow.

"Well…sure, but it's getting late, wouldn't you say? I should probably—"

"Don't be silly, it's only six o'clock," Xerxes said.

Reim swallowed and slowly slid his cup forward in defeat. "Four sugars, if you please."

After their tea party ended (though by the time the sun had set, Reim suspected it never would), Sharon had been summoned away by her mother, and as Duke Barma bid his farewells to Duchess Sheryl, Reim retraced his steps through the mansion and found Xerxes lying on the parlour sofa, his good eye closed and his arms folded behind his head. True to form, there was a lollipop stick protruding from his lips.

"Mister Break?"

No answer.

"Xerxes Break? Mister Servant. Xerxes."

"Mm?" Xerxes hummed without bothering to open his eye.

Reim sighed. "I'll be your reference." Am I just doing this because I pity him?

"Hm?"

"Your reference, for Pandora. I'll write it, if you're sure you want to join." He has no friends, after all. Except perhaps Sharon. But then, did this mean Reim was his friend, or that Xerxes Break thought of him that way? Or that Reim fancied himself to be Xerxes's friend? But why? They'd only met in passing, and the majority of those meetings had ended rather unpleasantly. Perhaps Xerxes Break was only using him to meet his own gains, as Barma had once warned.

But still, if he didn't help Xerxes Break, he doubted anyone else would, and something about that didn't seem fair.

Xerxes smiled. "That's good."

That's good?'

Here Reim was, willing to dedicate his time and effort and perhaps risk a bit of his reputation in the process to write this reference letter, and all he received in turn was a lazy 'that's good'? Some friend.

"Your welcome," Reim said stiffly.

Xerxes only laughed and kicked up a leg over the back of the sofa. "And you're welcome, because once I join, I'll be invaluable to your organisation."

Seeing how the man conducted his private life, Reim was not so calmed by that reassurance. He threw out a casual "Good evening," before retreating back into the hallway.

"Thank you!" Xerxes called out in a sarcastic, singsong voice. Was Xerxes spiting him?

Reim swallowed and pushed his glasses up his nose, bracing himself awkwardly in the doorway. "I'll have the letter delivered to Pandora headquarters tomorrow afternoon."

As he made his way down the corridor, he couldn't shake the sudden, horrible sense that when Xerxes finally joined Pandora, Reim would be picking up much of his slack.

Duke Barma was silent as their carriage pulled out onto the gravel road, but Reim could sense there was something the duke wanted to say, and sure enough, as the Rainsworth mansion grew smaller and smaller in the window, he spoke up at last. "So," he began, with an edge to his voice, "you're going to write a reference letter for the Mad Hatter?"

The Mad Hatter? Is that what they'll be calling him now? It was unsurprising that Barma already knew—little slipped past the duke's unparalleled knowledge.

"Yes, my lord."

Barma huffed his disapproval. "It's folly. He's an odd fellow better suited to childish tea parties than menial paperwork, and he knows that. I do not trust his intentions," he declared. "You'll write the reference, but keep a sharp eye on him. Duchess Sheryl insists he is only doing his duty as a servant of the household, but it's obvious that she's only catering to Shelly's wishes. And Shelly is a clever one herself, not to be underestimated. She seems overly fond of the Hatter, the way she talks about him."

And the way he talks about her, Reim realised.

Honestly, he didn't know whether to feel threatened by Barma's words or not. Despite Barma's attitude, a part of Reim suddenly wanted to trust Xerxes Break. Perhaps to spite the duke, because he was granted so few opportunities to rebel, or perhaps for the Lady Sharon's sake, because she seemed to love Xerxes with all the love her innocent child's heart could muster. Whatever the reason, he stowed Barma's warnings in the back of his mind and resolved to give Xerxes a chance, desperately hoping that his decision to help him wasn't a mistake.