How confident was he that Florence did not mind his sketches, that her beauty needed no disclaimer nor modifications to spread her nude before them in paper. Perhaps too confident; but the Lady had her own ways to correct his errors in judgement and since she had yet to hold a dagger against his body he thought himself safe for the moment. His hands gathered up the sheaves of paper, binding them away again after Ryan had looked his fill and he wondered if he was perhaps more relieved with their removal from the desk then Florence. Why did he feel as if he had revealed some part of himself? Though that was not odd not truly, every brush stroke was a reflection of the artist after all.<br/><br/>Nicholas stood then, nodding at the fact that the line up would be completed, he would enjoy looking over what else the Teahouse could offer; perhaps for future modeling visits, perhaps not. He was not sure if this was a world he was truly ready to enter once more. Though surely the Teahouse was different, it catered higher, it was clean and pristine. It matched his standards in design.<br/><br/>But facades had fooled him once before. Yet judging too harshly had led to a more bitter end. Either way he felt the dregs of memory taunt him and focused instead on the handsome whoremonger who claimed the tile of Master of the House. "Thank you Master Valentine, an artist is always grateful to know his work is admired."<br/><br/>His grey eyes noted the way the Master looked at Atticus, wondering if perhaps he was somehow infringing on the man's comfort; amusing almost was it to think they all seemed to believe he would touch and take what he swore not to. He had never once paid coin for intercourse in his life. Only time. he only ever bought time.<br/><br/>Never enough, in the end.<br/><br/>His satchel upon his shoulder once more the Knight offered his hand out to his blond companion. "I look forward to seeing the gems your famed House displays."