Attention was not as wavering as the color of his eyes. They held fast, studied, and dug into the very corners of the person to which they held onto. Judging worth was a thing people might find rude, but at least the indifference was not a chilling thing. The ones who<u><i>used</i></u>to work here began to flee happily, but there was an older man who motioned to the odd woman of fiery hair. An attitude to match as well it would seem.<br/><br/>Now his eyes were on her. Now his indifference was on her despite all her bravado. Mocking words landed with no impact, nor did the startled stares of a few of the workers who had stopped. A woman? His pet? Those who had paused nearby, shared a glance, and figured it would be best to keep working.<br/><br/>William, dipped in deep rich blue, simply watched her with the tidal pulls behind his eyes.<br/><br/>One would think a coddled beast such as this Heir would know only the luxury of casual pace, but this was not true of this man. A hand steeled with muscles well used, practiced, strengthened, shot forward to grab her chin. Thumb and forefinger held tight, but were unrelenting in their need to leave no bruise.<br/><br/>A step forward closed the gap between them, black and blue fabrics intermingling for a moment as William pressed to the smaller form. Easily at this height he could wrap her in his jacket, cocoon her against himself, such was the disparity between them.<br/><br/>Not cruel, but indifferent to protest, at first her new owner turned the woman’s head to the left, and then to the right. For the first time since their brief introduction emotion welled up behind those blue eyes, a puzzlement that sought out some sort of answer that possibly had none.<br/><br/>“You’re the pet?”<br/><br/>Before when he spoke there was confidence in that proper tone. Now, in debt to himself, old habits began to slither out. Old ways of talking began to resurface. The question was made in a way that sounded more like a mouth on one of the workers. Words tumbled free short, clipped, and without the elegance of a tone that sounded noble.<br/><br/>In the meantime, there were footsteps growing from behind the woman.<br/>One of the workers had broken off from the crowd, a brute of a man that looked like he could be a minotaur in another life. Muscles thick against tattered shirt, and short cut hair close to a scar upon his brow.<br/><br/>Unintelligent ape. Isn’t that what she was expecting? Well here was one, but it wasn’t playing the role the woman expected.<br/><br/>“You own that too Boss?”<br/>Brak’s words were even more desolated than the slight slip from William. It sounded more of ‘ou wn at too Boss? The local lower class dialect is slim with properness, but nonetheless easy to translate when heard. It was a joke of course from the big brute, a soft laugh after his own word made his lungs sound like bellows. Hands capable of supporting the largest of crates, or cracking the thickest of skulls waved about the place.<br/>“Ste’ up eh?”<br/><br/>Without losing contact with the smaller woman’s gaze, William’s hand slipped away without further demands, but neither did he relinquish his place so close to her.<br/><br/>“Seems I do Brak.”<br/>William’s words had returned to their formal and calming tones. The cracks earlier from the almost whispered question had been patched, but despite the confusion on his friends dumb face, Brak had moved off to continue work. Never once did he look away from the Pet.<br/><br/>Till now.<br/><br/>As if William had a sense of where each and every soul was in his domain, that viper-like grip of his shot out to the right to take hold of a passing man’s elbow. Without having looked, the new Master of this place had stopped one of his servants, only now did his eyes leave the female.<br/><br/>“Send for Mister Weaver please Andrew. I need a few dresses it seems.”<br/><br/>For some reason it still surprised the common man if a Lord grabbed them and addressed them by name. It put a new found respect into people William had found, one of both happiness to be recognized, and fearful of pointed accountability.<br/><br/>“Come along while you tell me your name, and while you’re at it tell me how my twisted progenitor came to have such a pet as…”<br/>Already the Master had stepped around the woman, making him start to further explore the innards of his new domain, but there was a pause. The slow slide of those blue eyes along the woman, from tip of head to tip of toes. Perhaps there was hunger there, perhaps not, but there was a flick of something that did not produce light. No, it was a flick of something dark as the word<br/>“.... you”<br/>slipped from his lips like venom off the fangs of a serpent that offered Eve an apple.<br/><br/>The statements were<u><i>not</i></u>an invitation, or a politeness. It was an order. It was clear that like his Grandfather, William was a man used to doing as he pleased.