The man spoke in terms of we, he had a grand plan laid before him, before them. She would assume he spoke of we in the terms of those bustling around him. She looked curious, two month a new home? Would he have her move from these hallowed walls. It was but frightening to imagine but she had never been outside the walls for long. What was the world truly like, what would he have to celebrate? Her mind swirled with questions that left her tongue tied. How could she ask anything of him, she felt like she had to be on edge in this new world. What did things cost, she had learned first hand, the evening before, things had a price.<br/><br/>He kept her close, she could feel his every breath. Her hands had pressed to his chest as if they might manage to push him away if she needed to. She was in the outer rim of the whirlpool, she might manage to learn to swim before she was sucked too deeply.<br/><br/>"A celebration?" Her gaze had lit up at the thought. She had never been allowed to attend such things, she had read stories of dancing into the night but to do it herself?<br/><br/>The moment was broken, food was held up by the chef. It seemed William to have some sense of order, at least from those who served him. She had been peering at the bacon when his lips caught the tip of her head, he was pulling away making one last comment that left her huffing. She now wished to behave more then she did before.<br/><br/>Her hand came to her head to wipe away the feeling of his lips. They were firm and warm just like the rest of him.<br/><br/>Vivian decided to ignore such a sudden thought. It was indeed in the space of her mind, there was another pressing matter that called her attention. Mr. Weaver, it had become quite clear that the man's clothe had an unexpected quality to it. It refused to stay one shade, she had read about creatures deep in the sea, she was sure they were called octopuses though an octopus was no where as fancy as the man who moved with certain ease, every step demanding his attention.<br/><br/>He strolled closer, his sweet scent spilled over all else, making him claim all the senses of those he entrapped in his gaze. She tried to stand tall, this wasn't possible for her but the heels helps here pretend. She did not look away Mr. Weaver, the buzzing work bee was impatient and thing only entertained the man who played along with it. She wanted to know what his secret was, she listened intent to know the answer. She did not like the one he gave, it made a frown draw at the corner of her lips and her gaze dart away from the scene. She didn't want to acknowledge it, it was he who owned her, would care for her, provide for her. She knew what was to be expected of her in return, what her last master required her company.<br/><br/>That and nothing more. She truly didn't know what use she was otherwise, she couldn't cook, she couldn't clean or weave clothes. She was not strong enough to lift things, she was small and delicate. She would have to face the issue of acknowledging this sooner then later.<br/><br/>"Williams favor..." She felt like she could display some weakness. "My last Master was quite aged even when I arrived," she admitted, "he favored silence and compliance, what would William favor," she couldn't help but ask.<br/><br/>"Does he expect the same as master? For all he wished was for me to perform and keep him company," she admitted.<br/><br/>The chef wanted her order, she glanced at the food. She was hungry, she had forgotten. "... Could I have pancakes and bacon... Lots of bacon please miss..." What was her name. She glanced back at weaver, curious, "and sir, I have plenty of dresses in my closet. I simply am running out of black."<br/><br/>Perhaps she could find her place in this chaotic rythm, keep her head above water. Did she truly have to struggle to get her way?