Elyot smiled at her outburst, such wrath only befitting that of a efficient leader. He obeyed her order, and walked forward with long swift strides, “Sensitive today?” Elyot asked, years of living beneath Geneviève rein had taught him everything about her sudden moods, it also taught him how to see through her many faces she might show to evade any discerning of her workers. “Is it the cold season, or is it due to that wicked mirror you've glared so much at?” He questioned her bitterness, though he was sure he knew what caused it. Elyot then leaned over her shoulder and gently cupped his middle and ring fingers under her chin. “Gazing at that pretty face of yours would set you to madness, Mistress, for it's lovely curse is blind to who it effects.”<br/><br/>He knew she had to of been staring at her face, and even though the real curse of it would never effect her in the way she affect so many other living beings, but Elyot knew that she'd take some brunt of its wicked essences, mentally, if she kept up her obsessing. Elyot slipped his hand from her chin, over her throat, then down the length of the back of her neck until it rested between her shoulder blades, taking up the ribbons of her corset, he loosen them even more to expose the flesh of her back. Elyot then poked at a spot beneath her right shoulder with his ring and middle fingers, “I could taste right here, or,” He then raised his finger from her back and glided it, millimeters above her skin, until he stopped at the center of her lower back, just above her rear, “right here, or...” Elyot repeated the action, moving his fingers up her back, over her left shoulder, then down her chest until his fingers rested above the center of her left breast, but he didn't let his fingers touch there, “right here...” His eyes filled with mirth as he leaned over her shoulder, head align with her own as he turned his some to catch a glance at her porcelain doll face.<br/><br/>“My payment.” Elyot said, easing any questions she may have.<br/><br/>Elyot hadn't gone on stage yet, and for his performance, he planned on doing sword swallowing (and ingesting), but he wasn't going to just do it because he enjoyed it, nor was it because he feared the wrath of the Ring Master, he did it because he liked the taste of the vixen's flesh, no body was any more sinful tasting than one without a soul, that's why he enjoyed his meals dead when he ate them, and to think a body like Geneviève was able to move around and continue to rack up more sins, never to receive a chance to repent for it as she had no soul to cleanse.<br/><br/>Elyot's mouth was watering, but too bad he couldn't taste her without her consent, he couldn't even choose what part of her he wanted to taste; she'd have to choose where, and how. Normally he'd just suckle a spot, lick it if she was feeling a bit peeved with him, but if she'd let him bite her—just bite, not even take a piece, no more than what her blood would give him—he'd gladly jump hoops out there on that stage. Though he'd still preform either way, he just need his payment, which would then leave the sweet hickey of a witch's mark, and until it faded, he'd follow her orders to the tittle; maybe with a little sass, but that couldn't be helped, as he was an imp.