Lorraine had taken advantage of those last few moments moving through the halls. The servant opened another door for her, and inside were two people. Both were sharply dressed. Lorraine's pale brown eyes passed briefly over both of them before the gentleman bowed to her. She returned his bow with a curtsy, her fingers briefly hidden in the skirts of her dress by the gesture. He spoke, and his charisma strengthened her suspicion that he was the Master of the house, "Welcome to the Teahouse, My Lady. How may we please you?"<br/><br/>Still, it was better to ask than be mistaken and look a fool. And now came speaking. Lorraine let her fingers free themselves of the fabric of her skirts lest her nerves show through. Her eyes found Ryan's and she smiled warmly before her tongue briefly touched her lower lip. Nerves, though nerves that were relatively well masked by grace. "I thank you for your kind reception... You..." Pink crept into her pale cheeks in the same way it often crept into the clouds of sunset as she continued, "...are Master Ryan, I presume?"<br/><br/>Her parasol served as a decent outlet for her nerves at this moment, for her fingers squeezed the handle of it rather more tightly than was usual. Thankfully this was made less evident by the green and black fabric of the gloves she wore. Her left hand lifted to chest, fingers resting lightly on a small but beautifully crafted pendant as her brown eyes stole another brief glimpse of the woman. She had no idea how to identify who fulfilled what roles in such a place.<em>'One of these might well be a...'</em>the pink grew a little darker<em>'...a paid... </em>companion<em>.'</em>Her brown eyes now rested on Ryan again as she waited for his answer and hoped her cheeks had not grown as dark as she feared they may have.