"CLAUDE! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!" Came Alois Trancy's early morning shriek. Something to do with breakfast maybe? My heavy feet lead themselves while my back arched round until our faces became dangerously close, our breaths shared.

"Yes, your highness?" I asked softly.

"TCH, IT'S PANCAKE DAY YOU MORON! WHERE ARE MY PANCAKES?" He whined angrily. "Or maybe… you didn't make me any because you don't love me? Don't leave me, Claude! Embrace me! Touch me!"

Pancake… day?

Fuck…

"For today's breakfast, I have prepared a mountainous hill of thick scotch pancakes, delicately staked one on top of the other with assorted imported Canadian maple syrup and cream on the side." Sebastian paused for dramatic effect more than the need for an intake of breath. "Earl grey tea has already been prepared, young master." He finished, took a step back and let his sharp canines show through his wicked grin as he watched his young master take the first sickly sweet bite of the breakfast no one could conclude. "Is it too your liking, young master?"

"Tch, why pancakes on such an ordinary morning?" I glared round at him.

"Young master, it is pancake day." Sebastian smirked making my blood boil down into a frothy polluted mess resigning in my veins.

Wait, what? Pancake… day?

Fuck…