Sweep, sweep, sweep, dust, dust, dust, fix, fix, fix.<strong>Work, work, work!</strong>The Fae had a work ethic that could not be found anywhere else in all the worlds, one might imagine; but then again, this was a Brownie's lot in life. This is what they were made to do.  Just as a knife was made to stab and cut, a Brownie was made to fix, and clean.<br/><br/>Hell, even once he had fully finished the room, he ends up sweeping back along it, making sure it is all clear, all fixed, all beautiful. The floor itself seems to become polished merely by him gliding across it on his too-sneaky feet.  And because once he gets going, he rarely stops, even the walls are going to find themselves getting cleaned, the Fae happily floating around, as much by magic as by the wings on his back.<br/><br/>The ceiling, too, would not be spared his cleaning. One never really appreciated just how much dust and dander could collect up there, and really, it was so unsightly, and really just ruined the air quality of a home.  And even though he had no intentions of making this place his permanent home, he felt himself regarding it as such; the Queen was worming her way into his mind and heart, bit by bit.<br/><br/>He would watch the Queen for a while, when he was done, and while she slept. But, eventually, he would wander off from the bed, because that was not his place; Brownie's did not sleep on beds, lest they be discovered.  Instead, he found himself a nice fire place, or perhaps a brazier, or barring that, just some corner to curl up in, out of everyone's way.<br/><br/>When the screaming comes, however, the Fair Folk was quick to wake, and scurry himself up to the ceiling, where he seemed to presume he would be the most safe from whatever was making people be loud. because people being loud typically meant bad things happening, and really, he's just a cleaner, and a fixer, and not at all a guardian of any sort.