Given that Sebastian had seen each and every resident of the mansion save for Master Theodorus, the Butler had found himself to be mildly concerned for the younger Van Gogh sibling. They'd all seen Vincent, the vampire as seemingly composed as ever despite lacking the usually attached brother, no falter to his normality in routine or day. Which seemed off considering the Van Gogh's had been inseparable ever since arriving at the mansion and even before that, from what he could gather.

The Butler hadn't the faintest clue as to why they hadn't been seen together in the last few days, or at all in Theodorus' case. It worried him as the other hadn't appeared for some time, and when asked, neither had the others caught a glimpse of him. Even Master Vincent hadn't seen him, though Sebastian had seen a somewhat change to his features when the younger sibling were mentioned, a sort of telltale twitch that he was aware of something the others weren't. Even upon hinting the one time, the older brother refused to explain. Another surprising oddity, seeing as he was the Angel of the siblings. He'd have expected this were it Theo.

His concern had increased throughout the day, Sebastian finding himself setting pancakes, syrup and a large bottle of both Blanc and Rouge on a sturdy tray. If the vampire refused to make an appearance then he would take what was necessary to the man himself. Or he'd thought that before seeing the Count standing in the kitchens' threshold.

"Are you busy, Sebastian?" the angel-faced vampire inquired smoothly while standing stoically in the entranceway between the two rooms. The man didn't seem worried for the lesser vampire, though he doubted that he would unless it became as troublesome as Master Jean starving himself. Sebastian somewhat feared that Master Theodorus had been doing just that, intentionally or otherwise.

"Not entirely," the Butler replied, lying as he couldn't refuse the man ahead of him, regardless of whether he were, in fact, busy, as he had been. He replaced the tray on the counter once more, setting it neatly half a foot from the edge.

"Splendid. I have an errand to run and would like the company," he wasn't aware of the situation with the younger Van Gogh then by the seemingly genuine smile gracing his lips. The man wasn't oblivious then, only uninformed. As odd as it was. If only one of the residents appeared off, all were aware of it. So this... was strange.

"Alright," the Butler wiped his hands on his waist-apron, untying it from the small of his back before folding it and setting it aside. He needed another way to check in on the vampire, Sebastian taking the second to think. But then as he'd been fixing his attire, he'd seen Napoleon from over the Greater Vampires' shoulder, the soldier standing from the dining table.

"Just a moment, Master," he bowed respectfully to the Count and skirted around the slightly taller man, "Excuse me, Master Napoleon," he'd called out to slow the demi-vampire down, his own pace easing with a soft smile gracing his lips as the Butler had successfully interrupted the soldiers' leave.

"Sebastian?" the other greeted and questioned, his posture relaxed and open yet obviously tired after having been woken up a tad earlier than usual that day. Apparently, Master Doyle had decided to 'prank' him, to which the other man had warned him from doing in the foreseeable future if he wanted to avoid a war.

"I have a favour to ask. It's quite urgent," the Butler informed curtly, hoping that alone would give him the motivation to aid him, not that any of the residents had turned him down before, and it was rare that he'd ever asked for assistance with anything.

Apparently, Theo had been avoiding the entire inhabitants of the mansion, having locked himself away within his own quarters. Sebastian hadn't had the chance to check in on him nor had he been given any information that could lead them to believe that he was, indeed, fine. According to the butler, Vincent hadn't appeared changed or concerned for his sibling, nor had he explained whether he knew as to why.

And due to the Count having requested his presence, Napoleon had been the first to be asked by the butler for assistance, said resident finding himself strolling down the hallway to the very vampires' room to hand over the tray he'd been given and peek in to see if he were alright.

Napoleon had felt for Sebastian, fully aware that he could never refuse the Count, despite the high stack of chores that were his duty, or whether they stacked up higher if left unattended.

Slowing down his pace as he reached the door, the soldier glanced between the intricately designed wood and the tray in hand, only a tad hesitant to continue holding it if he had to knock the door. He could balance the tray in one hand, but then what if it tipped aside and fell? Simply glancing at the contents, the butler had outdone himself on everything sitting atop the surface.

Grumbling softly to himself, he made sure that his balance held strong as he lifted a leg, pressing the heel of his boot into the side of his straightened leg so that he could use one of his thighs to balance the other end of the tray upon. Being as swift as he could, he firmed knocked his knuckles against the thick wood, replacing his hand to the tray and lowering his leg once more.

He'd waited and waited, no sound originating from the inside of the room. Frowning gently and blinking towards the door, the soldier continued to linger, gradually turning towards the closed entrance with a questioning stare. Had h simply been away for a few days rather than locked himself away? Even with slightly heightened senses, he'd have surely heard something from inside.

"Theo?" he called through the wood, gaining no response. Tilting his head curiously, Napoleon debated whether he should simply leave, only staying as he'd reminded himself that Sebastian had wanted to be sure that the man was alright considering that he hadn't been seen nor had he appeared in the dining hall for his daily drink of blood.

Another glance at the tray and at the larger bottle of blood made it clear that he really hadn't been quenching the vampiric thirst inflicted on them. It made the situation a tad more concerning. All the more reason to be sure that he was fine and under control.

"Theo," the soldier called again, waiting and listening, straining his hearing and gaining no response once more. Sighing softly, he angled himself to be able to hold the tray and grip the handle, "I'm coming in," he informed while nudging the door upon hearing the release click of the door lock. Letting it swing open, the corner of the tray being used to widen the gap of the threshold, he peered within the room, glancing around until he saw the back of the vampires head on the other side of the room, perched on the floor with his back to the door.

"Theo," he stepped farther into the room, using the heel of his boot to almost completely close the door, leaving it open only a few inches in case he needed to leave. Yes, he was a vampire as well, but more human than any of the others. It hadn't been tested whether his blood would be fine for the other residents to devour. And he'd rather not risk it if the man really had lost some control due to the lack of quenching.

"How are you feeling?" the soldier questioned in an attempt to gauge his sanity, again, gaining no reply, which only increased the tension in his posture. He'd preferred to have not gotten any closer, but the only perch to place the tray was at the base of the bed on the other side of the settee, the coffee table facing the large window.

Cautiously, Napoleon meandered towards the table, keeping a keen eye on the man as he lowered the tray, setting it carefully on the flat surface. Straightening up his posture he turned towards the vampire, glad that there were a few things between them. But at that angle, he could only just see his expression, dark, exhausted, regretful and almost mournful. He'd never seen him like this. Had this been related to what Vincent had refused to explain to Sebastian?

Reluctantly and hesitantly, the soldier took the first few steps along the front of the settee, eyes still focused on the man as he gained more of a look at that expression, one that he disliked on the vampires' face. He much preferred the irritation nd indifference than this emotionally pained appearance.

"Theo?" he asked softly, noting the very, VERY faint twitch in his features before he turned his face further away. He'd noted the paleness as well; definitely evident that he hadn't been drinking his daily dose of blood to sustain his complexion and control.

Glancing towards the door, Napoleon made a decision. Sighing under his breath and throwing away some of his safety, he headed towards it, his pace more relaxed than when he'd entered. He reached for the handle, clicking the door shut completely before turning the lock and then turning around. The moment he'd flicked the lock, his nerves protested, his gut feeling joining in.

He shoved the hesitation aside, forcing himself away from the door and towards the base of the bed, rounding it to lower himself to a crouch at the very edge only a few feet from where Theo sat on his carpet, dressed in nothing but his nightwear, bar for the shirt, which was draped along one of his motionless legs. He looked even more like a brutally kicked puppy than a saddened man, appearing to be on the verge of tears if not having just finished a round of them judging by the reddened tint to the skin along his undereye.

"Theo, please speak to me," he requested softly, far less caution and self-concern to his tone as he tried to gain some form of reaction, "What happened to put you in this state?" he asked, again, nothing. No reaction whatsoever, "Theo," his tone softened even more, the name being spoken much like a worried parent would their hurt child.

Shifting slightly and throwing more caution to the wind, Napoleon sat down a few feet from him, his back resting against the base of the bed frame that Theo had been leaning against. Glancing towards him again, he could see the strain in his body and face, or what he could see of his face. He wasn't entirely sure as to why, thinking that maybe he simply didn't want the soldier to see and wanted to tell him to leave while wanting to stay silent.

"You should drink," the soldier mentioned, taking his eyes off of the man for only a moment to remind himself that the tray was on the coffee table where he'd left it, and the food atop it, "And eat the pancakes. Sebastian made extra due to you having missed out the last few mornings," he returned his gaze to the younger Van Gogh, seeing the sadness increase just slightly along with the paleness of his skin.

"Theo, you really should drink," he informed, gravitating a tad closer as he felt less concerned about his own safety and more for Theo's. He appeared to still have control and his sanity, just seemingly starved of blood, yet he wasn't moving from his spot despite surely being able to smell it.

Still, he didn't move, the slightly taller and broader vampire choosing to stay where he was. Napoleon watched him, mind filling with theories and concerns as to why he decidedly locked himself away and starved himself. He couldn't think of anything rational or why he would do it. He'd known him for a while, having found him far easier to read than most of the others, yet there was no logic to why he'd have secluded himself off, as well as part himself from his brothe-...

"Does this have some relation to Vincent?" at that, he gained a reaction. The muscles of his temples shifted under pressure as the man tensed very faintly, a telltale affirmation that hadn't been voiced. He'd thought that Vincent appeared far too normal without his brothers' presence, and the fact that he hadn't responded to Sebastian and seemed to have that same twitch when Theo had been mentioned with him in the room.

Deciding against leaving him be after the confirmation, Napoleon slowly climbed to his feet, aware that Theo's eyes had followed him as he did so. He'd headed over to the coffee table, lifting a bourbon glass from the surface and filling it with the contents of the Rouge bottle before setting the latter down.

"I won't ask what happened, but in return, I'd like you to drink," the soldier conditioned, turning back around and returning to the bedside with the glass in hand. The moment he'd seen Theo's eyes land on the glass, the hunger was evident, strong, the thirst scratching under the skin. He could see the beast in those eyes; the almost animalistic growl being heard bubbling in the vampires' throat before a sharp hiss cut it short, Theo snappishly turning away. He was... denying himself the drink. He 'was' starving himself.

"Theo," Napoleon's tone became firmer, a tad 'exasperated parent' ish. He stepped forward, ignoring the warning growl that gritted between his teeth. Lowering himself to a crouch, kneeling at his side, he held out the glass, reaching out with his free hand to lightly grasp the mans' shoulder.

"Theo, please-," just as he'd called once more, the younger Van Gogh whipped out a hand and forcefully knocked the glass from his grip, the dark contents being jostled and tipped, the cup landing against his chest before dropping to the carpet and rolling a few inches away.

Silence followed, Napoleon gradually glancing down at the deep red drenching the collar and button-lining of his shirt as well as his neck, collarbones and upper chest. He internally growled with pure exasperation, his irritated gaze landing on a surprised and hunger-strained vampire staring back, his sky blue eyes intently fixated on the red seeping through his shirt and dripping beneath, staining both the fabric and his skin.

"I'm going to get you another glass, and if you don't drink it, I'll drown you in it," the soldier mentioned with a terrifying calmness and composure, expressionless for the most part. As he pushed himself to stand, grabbing the glass along the way, he felt a firm grip wrap around his forearm, Napoleon glancing towards the other just as he'd swiftly swayed them, the two taking a tumble with a 'deep yelp' leaving the soldiers' throat.

Landing heavily against the carpet, eyes turning to attempt a glare at the Van Gogh, Napoleons' scowl had been cut short, seeing the vampire leaning directly over him, hands roughly clamped around his upper arms and pinning him to the carpet of the floor beside the bed. His eyes grew wide at the change... in his face... in his eyes. That hunger, the intent fixation still focused on his chest and shirt. The blood from the glass.

"Theo," the soldier warned, the tone having no effect as the other appeared to have completely ignored his surroundings, concentrating on the red stains, "Theo," he tried again, a tad louder, but still nothing.

Dropping the glass, Napoleon gripped Theo's upper arms in return, tightening his hold in an attempt to draw attention to the pain, but still, nothing. Worry gradually began plaguing his mind as he watched the hunger grow, the mans' breath panting through his nose with a faster pace than before. His gut feeling, his nerves, they were dancing the dance of 'I told you so' in his head, Napoleon regretting his thoughtlessness in locking the door behind him.

"Theo!" he snapped this time, his nerves getting the better of him as he tensed and attempted to squirm from his hold, but his hands were a vice on his clothed biceps. He tried to struggle, his legs getting no leverage over the body kneeling directly between his thighs, unable to kick him or reverse their positions.

Napoleon violently flinched upon feeling the heat of the mans' tongue against the spot below his collarbones, the hot muscle running up between the bones and up his neck. He involuntarily tilted his head with the tongues path, his breaths becoming a quick pant of anxiety, apprehension and concern that he was about to be a meal himself.

He swallowed thickly, his grip alternating between tight and loose depending on where the wet, hot muscle made a path, said muscle drawing a breathy sigh from his lips as it flatly ran up between his collar again and then down between his chest, licking up the red liquid staining his skin.

"Theo, stop," he shook, still panting, still squirming and still trying to struggle but with far less enthusiasm than before as he felt evidently trapped under the slightly older vampires' strength. Napoleon clamped his mouth shut as Theo ran his tongue along the skin on the inside of his shirt on his chest, licking more of the blood that had seeped through the fabric. He refrained from allowing any sound from parting his lips, going as far as to bite the inner gum.

Continuing his struggle, arms trying to push against the other and legs trying to shift their weight, the vampire didn't budge at all, the soldier gasping behind his lips when he'd felt the fangs scrape his collarbone, his tongue following. Was he really about to become a meal?!

"Theo!" Napoleon growled, struggling a tad harder than before, really pushing and trying to force him off or aside. He'd began to fear the situation, internally freaking out and trying hard to stop the other-

"Calm down," the soldier abruptly paused at the deep and even tone that reached his ears, strained, hungry, but in control at least. Glancing down, he noted the stare he was getting, still incredibly hungry like a beast, but something very Theo. His default irritation maybe? And then he returned to licking his chest!

Growling under his breath, Napoleon scowled at the younger Van Gogh brother, attempting to ignore the warmth of the tongue running over the skin between his pectorals.

"Feel free to inform me that you're sane next time," he grumbled pointedly, his grip still harsh, but Theo's far less while continuing to clean him of blood, even going as far as to suckle on the shirt to fade the red to a dull pink.

"There'll be a next time?" the vampire inquired around the fabric, Napoleon's scowl getting deeper with frustration, "I'm joking," if there were a next time, the soldier would be sure to never set foot in the room. He'd kick the tray in, close the door and leave. He refused to let there be a 'next time'.

"As if I'd let there be," he replied grumpily, shifting up onto his elbows while the other continued to lick him clean, Napoleon refraining from letting the heat rise to his cheeks in the current moment. He could allow his embarrassment through after secluding himself in his own room for the rest of the night after lunch-.

"Aaah~," immediately cutting the sound off, Napoleon slapped a hand over his mouth, both he and Theo abruptly pausing to stare with saucer wide eyes, an awkward silence completely taking over the situation.

Seconds began to feel like hours, stretching and lingering between their shared surprised gaze, Theo very slowly lifting himself from above the soldiers' upper half, the two glancing down towards the smaller mans' waist. The sparked heat that had zipped through his nerves had been due to Theo pressing closer, their pelvises having ground against one another and of course... Napoleon had reacted...

"Ignore it. Let me up," the soldier ordered, giving no room to refuse. And to his relief, Theo did, in fact, shift to let him sit up and scoot away, wrapping his arms around his legs the moment his back met the base of the bed frame again, "Eat," another order, a gesture towards the coffee table where his pancakes had probably gone cold and his drinks were sitting stagnantly.

"Are you sure?" the still pale vampire questioned softly, a hand held out between them. Though pale, a minute bit of colour had returned thanks to the blood he'd cleaned from Napoleon.

"Yes. Go," he growled, glaring guardedly and watching as the other hesitated in standing up, blue eyes still fixated on him as he grabbed the glass from the carpet and headed towards the settee, leaving Napoleon to berate himself in silence for physically reacting to such sensations. He wasn't a masochist. He wasn't feeling the heat from being forced into that situation...

Sighing exasperatedly, he dropped his head against his arms and knees, softly growling to himself while willing away his problem, feeling grateful that it began working after a moment and thankful that Arthur in a corset appeared to be his turn-off, especially while wearing grotesquely high heels.

"I argued with Vincent," Theo's voice sounded far less strained, Napoleon glancing over to see that the bottle of blood had been drained until only a quarter was left. And to his words, they reached him, registered and he really couldn't believe it, "And I said a few things that I regret," it was incredibly rare that the siblings would argue, the chances being next to zero as he'd never ever seen them squabble or even bicker. That and Theo had always seemed to be the more mature of the two.

But then... those choice words that he regretted, the mournful expression and sadness and the starving himself had been a self-given sentence?

"This was a punishment from yourself?" Napoleon asked softly with realization, watching him closely and hearing the questioning hum before the younger Van Gogh glanced over his shoulder towards him, "Refusing to quench your thirst, I mean," the slightly smaller man clarified further.

"In a sense," the vampire replied after a moment of consideration before returning to his tray, words muffled as he inserted a forkful of pancakes, "I'd been planning to starve until tonight, actually," a shrug followed, the soldier grumbling at the idea that Sebastian could have waited until that evening to see him.

"So we could have avoided this," he huffed exasperatedly, turning his gaze to the side and seeing the abandoned bed shirt on the carpet, left there and unstained by the events. Reaching out for it, the soldier lifted the fabric and glanced down at his own blood-stained one.

"You have yourself to blame," Theo muttered amusedly from where he sat on the settee, Napoleon glaring over his shoulder while going about standing, setting the shirt aside to strip from his jacket and stained shirt, "You chose to check on me, and like the girl and Sebastian, you have human blood along with the vampiric," that, he'd already been aware of, but whether he could be devoured had been the question.

"Sebastian deserves the blame," the soldier huffed, dropping his stained shirt to the floor and slipping Theo's, surprisingly warm and soft, bed shirt over his head, tucking the base into his trousers and rolling up the slightly baggy sleeves, "He'd requested that I check on you," he added after a moment, sliding his jacket back over his shoulders before reaching for his ruined shirt.

"Quite the mother-hen when he wants to be," the taller man sighed, Napoleon, glancing towards him at his reply, "Though I can't say I'm disappointed in the person he chose to see to me," a tired glare marred the soldiers' features once more at the additional sentence.

"There'll never be a 'next time', understand?" he curtly commented in return, rounding the base of the bed and tossing the shirt against his bare back, "I'll see you at supper," he mentioned haughtily before heading towards the door, stomping much like a chided child.

"Care to bring it to me along with my shirt?" Theo inquired from his seat, Napoleon ignoring the sound of muffled sniffing and attempting to wave off the knowledge that his bloodied shirt had just been given a whiff.

"I'll flay you!" he growled, neither confirming nor denying the actual question as he unlocked the door and swiftly closed it behind him, forcing the heat from reaching his face until he made it to his own bedroom.