Atticus felt his stomach twist and blood rush at Master Ryan’s two words, a little fear, a lot anticipation and a swirl of excitement. It was an unnerving sensation, one he had rarely felt without any dread, yet here it was. He had spent each day in close proximity to the Master of the house, but the man had only asked for what Atticus could give, control and violence, rarely demanding more and never something that was beyond his comfort.<br/><br/>After being allowed to hold such a distance Atticus found himself trusting Master Ryan almost utterly... though he wondered, as he followed the Master to his office, if it wasn’t a quiet respect that had allowed him to go unmolested, but disgust. The idea didn’t quake his ego as it might the Teahouse whores, but amused him. How relaxing it would be to be ugly.<br/>