There could have been such honesty between them. Her nudity and his bought, unquestionable position above her. She'd not even been afforded the will to rebel. But if they were him, shared, then there could not be reprieve from conflict yet. Perhaps he'd known it, and the quiet, choked corners of his soul that were afflicted and worn by unrest had cried out for the company once its well placed advertisements reached him. That was why she couldn't be as simple as an alien, exotic, biological libation, soaking in a glass half-sphere for his enjoyment. She would be, though, if his singing protests had let her, with the availability of her love, and the unprotected skin, made perfect in contrast to her hair fanned out like grassy ink in that water.<br/><br/>He thought he saw Naella in her, the way old images try to break through healthy interface when particularly cruel digital illness claw at the machine. At first he told himself the mystic receptors in his grown and sprouted girl had not gathered his taboo, and he was simply convincing himself and his eyes of shadows. It was his turn to flinch, when her head switched toward him. He thought he might have recoiled, but was also sure he'd somehow managed to stand fast. Too perceptive, this soaking flower.<br/><br/>"Yes you have." Displeased me. It was somehow endlessly worse than having wrung the breath out of her throat, just now. It mattered more because he was being deceitful while he'd been a murderous kind of honest, in the car. As though to punish him, Naella Ayes floated in and out of Iris's vocals. He was committed to this pretend, now, and to give her a task. It wouldn't make him as happy as indulging in ancient dreams, but it's all he could think of now.<br/><br/>"Well, cooking of course." Is the assistance I want from you. His  bothered voice that said she was being simple for not realizing. His staff did a number of things, and he'd planned their responsibilities, he was well privy to their worth to this household. And yet, now, when he wanted to run from the implications of his beloved sister who'd never shown signs of faltering in decency the way his loving heart would, he couldn't recall anything easy, that would put Iris out of his way. "You will find clothes in this house." But he didn't remember in that moment, that he had changes for both women in ready drawers. He'd meant absolutely anything else, but hadn't said.<br/><br/>He placed a towel by the tub and stole the plate of information away, so that he could busy himself with shuffling through the squares uselessly when he went out without another word to his beautiful, too insightful slave.<br/><br/>He realized soon he'd not given her any proper introduction to her new home. She died in the car and woken in the water. He had no choice but to sit down in the dining room because it was the most obvious place to serve food. He'd left the plate outside her door, with the schematics of this house. Would she know? She knew some things.<br/><br/>Kedrick pulled out his smaller device to work. Only his pressed pants and a rolled up shirt remained of his three-piece armor. A few times her went back to the leather seat and her beautifully performed Gerta, trying to keep her job. It made him lick his lips, but in the red, he remembered what he'd thought among the tile and the blooded water. Kedrick swallowed and shook his head violently.<br/><br/>Naella liked to make stake. For someone like her, it looked inappropriate and deliberate, to prepare the red slab until it was perfectly civil, and delicious. It was the delight and bane of his life when she'd cut the first piece and feed it to him, to show off her skill. He laughed to himself. Perhaps Iris would come out with a salad? What would be the implications of that. His brown eyes opened to soak up the light in the lonely, large hall at the end of a grand table. What would her petals taste like? That curiosity in him was not as forbidden as Naella was.<br/><br/>Kedrick looked around, eventually. It had been quite some time now. He had excused the staff for today, given who he was welcoming, but the home felt lonely, suddenly. He'd hidden in here for this purpose, but, he was starting to wonder if letting a new person handle fire and knives was such a great thought. Was it strange that after the promise of a forever companion, his usual solitude felt more pressing? He tried the little screen as a distraction, again.