Atticus nodded once his understanding. “I’ll be there, Sir.” He lifted his gaze finally, and suddenly knew something that might make Master Ryan feel better. What pleased him more than money?<br/><br/>“How is his auction going? Will it come to a head soon?” He didn’t ask in the interest of gossip, but to help distract Master Ryan from whatever he was thinking so hard about, and to better help Anel himself. This morning’s teasing might be how the boy acted towards patrons, but directed at Atticus, it smacked more like frustration.<br/><br/>There was a knock at the office door. Atticus went to open it, looking at the floor to see if his remaining buttons were there, but they were gone, picked up by the servant most likely. Hoping it wasn’t a client come to write a cheque, he opened the door – a servant, with a tray. Atticus stepped back then looked down at his open shirt. Not appropriate attire for this hour. “Mary, when you’re done, would you fetch for me another shirt?” Even if this was a brothel, he was not a whore, but staff. The clients would not appreciate this scars, he was sure.<br/>