Atticus could hear the rhythmic thud of his heart for a moment as he absorbed the questions Anel asked. He was... confident he had guessed correctly as to what the something was, that Lord Aldrich had used Anel inappropriately, and without the consent of Master Ryan. Hadn’t he and the Master just been talking about Anel’s auction while they – or, really, only himself – ate lunch? If someone had won, Master Ryan would have said something.<br/><br/>He didn’t know enough. He didn’t know when, though he could guess. But, none of the servants had said anything about a raucous, so perhaps, even if it were against Master Ryan’s wishes, it hadn’t been against Anel’s?<br/><br/>He turned back to the box and looked at a few bottles without really seeing them before drawing out a bottle no wider than his thumb, and a palm sized tub which had no label, only swirling scrollwork. “Put three drops of this in a hot bath,” he said, holding the slender vial up. “It will... numb, just enough. Don’t use more than three drops, it’s fucking expensive and I want it back once you’re done.” Oil of opium was double its worth in gold. “After your bath, use this on your... open injuries. You can keep that one, too. As for payment, you can shine my boots.” The last came out hard and cold.<br/><br/>It wasn’t exactly an accident. Sex permeated the Teahouse, there was no escape from it. But he didn’t want Anel to think he was so weak that he could be distracted by a fumble. This had happened because he’d be distracted by Master Ryan. He had been negligent. “Does Master Ryan know?” he asked, his voice low.<br/>