<span style="color: Maroon">"Oh?"</span>The soft, mono-syballic query was clearly targetted at her first, cheeky little reply about his smile than her more mundane one about the factory. He confirmed this by leaning in conspiratorally and dropping his voice even though, like before in the market, it was a needless gesture.<span style="color: Maroon">"Then you will not mind bringing such smiles to my face, using all the tools at your disposal."</span>There was a clear sexual threat in those words but it was unlike the ones he'd used before. This was not him trying to make her worry over what might happen so much as him almost *promising* to give her a chance to play; she was certainly still there to be his slave but in that moment he was teasing her, not warning her. The slightly more accepting response was solidifed by the fact he made it at all after her unbidden comment, but he had appreciated the words and was not about to admonish them. She was curiously sweet when she was a little more relaxed, and the barely suppressed giggles - the contortion of her face did not quite slip by Quentin - were welcome.<br/><br/>And then all of a sudden he was leaning back and cutting to the point, albeit with a smile on his face and rare warmth in his tone.<span style="color: Maroon">"Since you have seen systems like it before I suppose I do not need to remind you to keep your hands away from the machines when we walk through; they will take your fingers in a heartbeat otherwise. Smile and pose for my employees, if they pay you notice, but stay close and do not give too much of yourself away. In fact it would be best if you burrowed back into my side, and played the doting trophy."</span>The grin grew just a little when he suggested it.<br/><br/>His words were done and he hefted one arm back around her shoulders, enforcing that which he'd just finished suggesting. Their path took them across the carriage bay and along a wide path cutting through the middle of the building, and then onto a far narrower side path. Either side of them the great machines were in action. On the right a belt rattled along, carrying tiny discs of brass. It stopped periodically and another machine dropped a press down with a loud thud before it rattled on again, only now the disc was reformed as a small cog of it's own. Machines creating machines. For a moment the rattle-thud-rattle-thud rhythm filled their ears, and then they were past it and it mingled in with the rest of the lively sounds of the building.<br/><br/>A worked had to push himself back up against the machines to let the pair past, taking off a soiled cap and clutching it respectfully at Quentin's passage. Zoey thought she heard him call out "Master Quentin." but the general din swallowed up his exact words. The glances at her chest were harder to miss, though, and there was no reason to doubt that his eyes would be burning onto her backside after they were past.<br/><br/>At the end there was a flight of metal stairs, and Quentin pushed Zoey forward onto these so that he might come behind, taking his own oppurtunity to letch. The stairs hit a landing then rose further, the second flight going backward compared to the first. It was when Zoey was on this that Quentin reached up and pinched the back of her panties, which were exposed by virtue of her raised platform; he crushed them together til the back of the fabric was a much thinner strip, that all but vanished between the cheeks of her rump. He egged her own all the same, only now his view was improved further still.<br/><br/>At the top they crossed along the narrow, suspended walkway. They were above nearly all of the machines now and the bustling activity became plainer, with some of the automations reasons and rhymes becoming more obvious. She was not given long to pause and watch, though, as Quentin bustled her along to one end, where a room was resting. The thick door was as practical as the rest of the place and quietened out some of the noise, so that it was a background clatter instead of a more piercing noise.<br/><br/>The room itself was rather large, but sparsely furnished. It was a long way from the luxuries of any of the rooms in Quentin's home - even the servants quarters were better equipped - but as a workshop it was well stocked. Several workbenches lined the walls, some with vices and others with tools resting atop it. A large wardrobe-like container stood in one corner, undoubtedly holding yet more gadgetry. In the centre there was a table, and another propped up against the wall to provide more space. The floor was a little rough and uncarpetted, but along with everything else it seemed sturdy, and honest. A few pieces of in-progress works littered the side.<br/><br/><span style="color: maroon">"And this, Zoey, is my private quarter of it. Not quite so magnificent, perhaps, but better suited to tinkering and experimenting than the production lines."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>