Work Text:
"Come to bed, Passepartout," my master said, not for the first time — fond exasperation in his voice — but ever the dutiful valet, I ignored him.
A stylized black button on his navy evening jacket was starting to come loose, and I would hate for him to lose it. (Not least because I had no similar replacements on hand in my sewing kit and I doubted I would be able to find any at our next stop.)
Gently, I cut the button free, sure not to misplace it myself. Thankfully, the original thread was a classic black that was easy enough to match. I moistened the tip of the thread in my mouth, poked it through the eye of the needle on my very first attempt, and set to work.
My master stood before me when I finished, lips twitching before settling into a small smile. Wordlessly, he took the jacket from me, hung it up carefully just as I had planned to, and returned to where I was still sitting — somewhat dumbfounded — to pull me to my feet.
"You take such good care of me, Passepartout," Phileas murmured in my ear. "Now let me show you how appreciative I am."