She had expected him to murmur something polite and excuse himself, to leave her to the rain and her dreary thoughts. She had expected to be able to sink into herself, perhaps write some until dinner and then force away the thoughts of her dead lover and focus on the future and her duties as part of the Teahouse. She had not expected for Atticus' familiar voice to come from behind her, lacking the elegant accent she had almost always heard and find it replaced with gutter diction.<br/><br/><em>“Well, fuck me for a ha’penny an’ a poxy kiss,”<br/></em><br/>It was enough to turn the redhead around, her eyes wide in her face, lashes blinking quickly as she tried to adjust to the surprise. She had heard him speak like that before of course, in his fevers when she had tended him, but never to her, never when he was waking.<em> “Thine ‘ent got to worry, lass. Nothin’ a banked fire needs but a waggle wi’t poker t’ bring up the flames, ay?”</em>Fiona's lips were parted in a soft 'o' of surprise; and it took her cultured mind several long moments to unravel the thread of his slurred words to figure out just what he had said. Once she did her cheeks flamed, the words playing over her in mind, crude and blunt and something that she had so little experience with.<br/><br/>Nervously she gave a flash of a smile that didn't quiet reach her eyes, summoning a half breathless laugh to her lips. "That was um...very educational Mr. Cross." Her cheeks stung with color still, as she realized he might be mocking her, but this was Atticus, surely he wouldn't? She took a tentative step back toward him and the couch, away from the window. Her fingers of her left hand wound cooper hair around and around them in a flash of the nerves that fluttered through her, ones she normally allowed no place in her life. He was trying to make her laugh, surely that was all, the grin on his face making her heart pick up a beat and she found herself caught by how handsome her brooding friend was. It was enough, with that glint in his eye, to make her wonder what it would be like if he was the 'poker' he so lewdly mentioned. But she had no right to such thoughts, and her eyes dropped, hoping to veil the sudden, surprising yearning that filled her breast.<br/><br/>"You are likely correct, perhaps I should go down stairs and inform the Master that I am in need of a ....poking." She tried to make a joke of it as well, laughing softly but here she stumbled a touch, to make lewd jokes returned her nearly to the point of her blushing, trembling virgin's night. Which made her think of William again, the line of her lips, so slightly lifted in mirth drooping once more.<em>Fool</em>. She seemed to excel at desiring what she could never have, William Hatch was dead and gone, and Atticus...what use did he have with a overly educated and sweet young woman?<br/><br/>But that made her angry, at herself for thinking such thoughts, at him for not leaving her alone. She was beautiful, how many had told her that? How many paid high fees to spend but a night in her arms? She was talented and witty, she was a excellent lover, and she was kind and thoughtful. Even if she was not a sensual knock out like Zara, she was tempting, arousing and feminine. She moved to stand before the couch and then sank down her knees with a dancer's grace, kneeling in front of him and glancing up at him with a laughing, yet horribly shy look in her eyes. Fi bit her lower lip, trying to think of how to word this, she knew how to flirt she did so often with clients but for some reason she felt more nervous here, like she was fumbling in the dark. "And what of your fire's my hero?"<br/><br/>Oh, she winced inwardly, dropping her eyes, blushing hard, not exactly the most enticing of lines, not anything like his playfulness. Too eloquent, too formal. Stupid. Stupid, stupid stupid.