One week after the ball and still Weiss was no more informed about the family Glas. She had searched in the archival books on important families that she had long since stored into memory. Her handmaiden, Margret, had inquired discreetly for her, but none of the staff seemed to recognise the name either. Unwilling to ask a tutor or her father she instead pondered the question of where else to seek answers, circling around the point that a family affluent enough to have a representative at her father's events would need some representation elsewhere.

Presently those thoughts led to Weiss lying in bed, the lights off, as she studied the ceiling beyond her range of sight. Sleep had failed to take her away; the decorative clock in the hall ticked away the seconds. Boredom and a need to visit the water closet finally motivated her to toss aside the blankets and slide her legs off the bed. Her hands searched for obstacles as she made her way to the lavatory. With the understanding that sleep would not be coming soon, Weiss pulled her arms through her robe and walked to the kitchens, wincing in the low light of the hallway.

Weiss heard a pot being placed on a countertop as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the bright kitchen light. A person, nearly as young as herself, stood patiently with one hand holding a cloth on the pot and the other self-consciously patting a worn uniform dress. Weiss tightened the belt of her robe, then rubbed her eyes with a step forward, greeting the late-night dishwasher with a nod. The nod was returned in kind, the girl turning back to dry the dry pot whilst keeping a cautious watch over the family's eldest daughter. Only slightly more willing to look away, Weiss walked to the large refrigerator.

Her eyes kept darting to the dishwasher, unable to look away for more than a few seconds, who seemed unable to look away for even that long as a hand reached blindly for the next wet dish. There was nothing special about this girl, confirmed further with each glance, but something seemed to attract Weiss's attention towards her. Into the category of observations that could be worthy of remark fell the slick dark hair that held tightly to the servant's scalp and followed her jaw over her shoulders likely hanging forward enough to touch clean dishes and counters, and clearly with no attempt made to bind it from falling into food. Yet, that thought did nothing to assuage her interest. Yellow eyes met hers for the briefest of accidents before looking away and finally enabling the girl to take hold of the next wet pan. Weiss placed her hand on the handle of the refrigerator and looked over her shoulder at the other girl.

The dishwasher had turned around, her hands drying the dish autonomously. "Excuse me Miss Schnee, is there anything I can help you with?"

"N-No, I know where they are on my own. Thank you, but please don't allow my presence to interrupt you." replied Weiss. It was her turn to about-face, which she did while opening the door.

Letting the door rest on a shoulder, she rummaged through a drawer until she grasped her target and backed away, permitting the door to close on its own as she went around the island to reach the sink, so as to not directly pass by the worker. She stole another look at the dishwasher, noting the thinned and faded dress along with the uniform collartie tight around her neck instead of loose at the collarbone, who was reaching for another dish and no longer regarding her employer's daughter so carefully. The cold water turned fresh and Weiss rinsed the apple beneath it; she leaned against the worktop and watched the girl while chewing her first bite.

At first the girl seemed to not notice being watched, but with each bite she would glance at Weiss just a bit more frequently. Weiss pretended to examine her apple when she was caught, but it was far too late to be successful at any endeavour of deception. With another furtive glance by the girl she switched from piling dried dishes on the counter to putting them away, taking care to pick the ones that did not belong in the cabinets above or below the sink. Finally, though, the pile of serving spoons needed to be placed in a drawer directly beside the sink. The girl put her hand on the drawer, meeting Weiss's eyes with a smile.

"Hello." said the dishwasher simply, placing the utensils in their slots.

Hastily Weiss chewed and swallowed her most recent bite. "Hello." she said before swallowing once more. "It seems I am at a disadvantage: you seem to know my name while I do not know yours."

The girl's shoulder's pitched forward as she held in a bark of laughter, resulting in something nearly passable as a hiccup, and closed the drawer with her hip. "You may call me Cinder."

"And what of your family name?" asked Weiss.

Cinder turned to her questioner. "Well miss, I don't have much of a family, so what's the use of a family name?"

The crunch of another bite met Cinder in reply, Weiss taking the moment to inspect the apple as her deft fingers rotated what remained. "Not much, I suppose. Is it common for you to be working so late?"

With a step back one of Cinder's hands rose to the worktop with intent to busy herself in work once more, but without follow though it merely rested on the cold stone. "Yes, I start late and work late. There isn't much of a point to be here before the dishes are dirtied."

Weiss gave a curt nod and took several small bites of the apple, lacking anything to add to the conversation, whilst spinning the core easily in search of gleaning a full bite's worth. Some of the juice slid down her palm; her free hand rose to pull her unbound hair to one side as she leaned forward with her final nibble, allowing the sweet liquid to drip into the sink undeterred by her attempts to drink it in.

Cinder returned to the dishes, drying and stacking plates; when all of them were done she paused, running the rag over her hands. "I was told it was a good schedule for working a bit outside the house, but the pay here suits me just fine and I don't think I could muster the energy for such long days." said Cinder, who while refraining from looking at her conversational partner, instead picked up the plates and easily opened the cabinet. Placing them on the shelf above her head, an action that seemed precarious to Weiss but elicited not a hint of uncertainty from the handler, demonstrated dexterity and experience.

Weiss looked over her apple one last time before tossing it in the bin behind her, underneath the island. "Yeah, I know. There might be time left in the day but even on the days you can't list what you did it can feel impossible to do any more. It might not look that way though . . . looking in." She turned back to the sink, opening the tap.

Cinder's head bobbed, it was slight but gave the impression of understanding more than mere agreement. "What are you doing up?" she asked, offering a clean hand-towel to Weiss who had rinsed her hands and wet her face.

The towel was accepted with a word of appreciation and used to dry her mouth and hands. "I got bored of lying in bed, not sleeping."

"ha, I have those some times too. I just hope it isn't before a busy day. You aren't worried about something for tomorrow I hope?"

"No, it will be fine, nothing more than usual." replied Weiss, noticing how the conversation had begun to come more naturally.

"That's good." Cinder said as she began to drain and clean the dish rack.

Weiss jumped back, a motion of ability as opposed to surprise. "I don't think I've seen you around before, when did you begin working here?" She put her hands on the island behind her and slid up, pulling herself both out of the way and off her feet.

"Some months back, I'm not entirely certain. It was about when it started getting cold last. I'm not surprised we haven't met; I rarely work outside the kitchen and stay out of the way in my off time." Cinder answered as she replaced the rack. She leaned her bottom against the sink, turning to face Weiss, while her hands absentmindedly dried themselves with the damp cloth.

After a moment of consideration Weiss spoke again. "Odd though, I find myself here not infrequently."

"I usually finish earlier," provided Cinder, "and by now would be cleaning visitor areas. I have been behind since that big soiree; it scrambled the schedule and I have been particularly slow with catching up." At that, Cinder promptly turned around, as though suddenly recalling her duties, and begun to wipe down the available surfaces.

Weiss watched her clean the sink, sliding from her perch and taking her towel with her when the other girl turned to the island. "Is there anything I can do to help? I'm sure entertaining me has done nothing good for that schedule."

Cinder stopped, leaving her cloth, and turned to Weiss with a soft shake of her head. "No, that isn't necessary."

"Are you certain? I would hate for my own selfishness to get you into trouble."

Cinder smiled, "Yes, thank you. I participated as much as you here, and I get paid for working. Besides, you have more important things to do," she said, reaching out a finger just below Weiss's chin but never touching, "and those things require sleep."

She had forgotten that the girl was probably a little older than her, but suddenly that age gap seemed greater; although, as Weiss studied Cinder's face, she couldn't imagine the other girl being more than a couple years older than herself.

Taking a step back with a hand sliding against the cool, stone, worktop, Weiss nodded her head. "I suppose I should go back and try again." She left the towel behind and took a couple of steps toward the door before pausing. "Thank you for talking with me tonight, I enjoyed it. Perhaps again sometime?"

Cinder laughed, "The circumstances of us being together don't seem ideal, given that it's taken half a year and for me to be behind and you to be sleepless, but I wouldn't mind another of these chats."

"Yes, that does seem to be a problem. Under better circumstances next time would be better."

Cinder simply nodded, her expression settling into a passive smile - the kind that creeps up without warning and usually isn't noticed by its wearer.

"Good night." said Weiss, starting to turn back to the door. She was taken aback by how soothing that vague promise seemed.

"Sleep well."

"You too, when you get there." said Weiss, walking out of the room. She felt her face fall, realising only as she passed through the doorway that she had sported a similar smile to that of her companion.

This time the light of the hallway seemed dim, and the ability to pick out details from the shadowy forms took some adjustment. Weiss attempted to direct her thoughts to sleep and tomorrow, but without intense focus they kept drifting back to the kitchen and that conversation. 'Cinder', the name kept rolling over her thoughts unbidden and unanchored. Despite everything in the room being cold, the refrigerator, the apple, the worktops, the water, the floor, . . . the feeling of a warm blanket or a cup of tea wormed its way into the memory. It was strange, foreign, but nearly familiar although not quite; yet as disconcerting as it was, a part of her wanted that sensation to be there.

Weiss found herself sliding back into bed, pulling the covers tightly around her. Cinder was a unique name, not one she could imagine giving a child but the imagery wasn't particularly bad for a name; a small spark that can give life to roaring flames. She was nice enough to talk to, regardless of their differences. It was nice to talk with someone while not performing, like with Margret but without suspicion that she reports back to Father. It was nice, talking to someone who didn't seem afraid or want something, it was almost like . . . almost like . . .