• "NO!!"
    The word echoed through the halls of the English masion, causing the staff to shiver. It wasn't an usual thing to be awoken by (for those who took the nightshift or simply did not wake at 6AM), but it was certainly not a screech to be appreciated so early.
    Tiffany Dewheart, Head maid of the Milfdord estate, had been gazing out of the window, preparing breakfast when she heard the noise.
    She sighed, and looked up at Emily Sustern, the nurse and nanny, who had come to offer a hand with the plates and silverware.
    "What is it this time, you think?" Tiffany asked, not sounding tired in the slightest considering the ammount of time she'd been awake.
    "Little brat'll be given her morning tea, now. I suspect she'll wan' it done differently again. As if we di'n' jus' change the way we did it yes'erday mornin'." Rachael tutted, rolling her eyes.
    "'Little brat'? Ooh, finally given up on the whole nicey-nicey-cutey-cutey attitude, have you?" the dark-haired girl laughed in response.
    "Let me be tellin' ya, Tiffers, dear. Should that child's body be float'n' up stream any time soon, you di'n' see ol' Em'ly wit' a sack the night before... And th' trip to Mexico was plann'd fer months!" The 51-year-old laughed, shook her head, and made her way to the staircase, closely followed by the head maid, who had thought ahead to bring a serving dish as protection this time.

    The roars that filled the mansion were quite impressive for the small 8-year-old-body shrieking them.
    Impressive unless you've been working at the Milfird mansion for more than a week, though.
    Emily and Tiffany poked their heads around the, perhaps a little oversized, wooden double doors into the child's bedroom. Paying no mind to the candy pink wallpaper, or painfully white carpet (That was slaved over and washed 3 times a day, plus extra for spills or mess), the scene before them was as followed:
    Janette Lamten, a new and much younger maid, broken down on the floor, crying, trying to clean the morning tea off the floor with an old rag while, in a king sized bed, complete with silk draped and 12 pillows (Any less than 12 would be 'sin'), sat the daughter of the head of the esate: Annie Milford. Brat of the century, as the staff often called her privately.

    "I WANT MY YUKI!!" she called out, intending for her calls to be heard as far as possible.
    "H-he's not here, m'lady..." Janette tried, desperately.
    'Bless her' Emily mouthed to Tiffany, reffering to Janette. She lifted up her dress and rushed into the scene to shut the child the hell up.
    "Look, M'lady, Dear Yuki has gone to th' market to get you some nice strawberries for your lunch. Isn't that nice of him? by his free will, an' all." She on-purposely hid her accent, knowing it agitated the child.
    "I don't want strawberries. I. WANT. YUKI!!" She shouted.
    Tiffany had already given up hiding, opting for helping Janette with the mess of staining tea of the carpet.
    "YOU!" Annie pointed to the head maid.
    "GO GET YUKI FROM THE TOWN, NOW!!" She had expected this order right from the moment she heard "I want Yuki".
    "M'lady..." she started, calmly.
    "Yuki has taken the carriage, and I cannot go to town on foot. I dare not borrow your Father's or Mother's. He will be back in no more than 40 minutes, so if--"
    "That's too long! i want him now!!" Annie started to cry and wail, throwing her head back as she did so, long blonde hair draping over her face.
    The experience lasted another 38 minutes and 11 seconds, until Yuki returned.

    At the marketplace, England, 1882.
    Yuki Braymond flickered through the remaning part of his shopping list.
    1 Cabbage, 10 carrots, 15 apples (red, of course), 5 bags of strawberries...
    He sighed, thinking of the horror the rest of the house would have to endure if he wasn't back soon.
    The peace of the town was hard to enjoy when distracted by the guilt of running off to fetch the shopping.
    He'd have to buy Annie a nice dress for making up for not being there to wake her, now. How inconvenient. Money didn't grow on trees for him, and apology-presents came out of his wallet.
    Running a gloved hand through his brunet hair, he sighed and handed over the money for the carrots.
    And he had so been looking forwards to buying that new coat for Lucas...
    'It can't be helped.' he told himself as he continued the shopping, doing his best to enjoy what little peace he would have until the following week.