Eavesdropping was not something she was in the habit of doing, truly normally it never even occurred to the redhead; but standing where she was, able to observe most of the ground floor and how others interacted, with parts of the conversation carried she found herself feeling almost as if she were invisible. Her lips tugged with a smile at the thought, that would have been a proper thing to play at with her father, he would have been amused, heaven rest his soul. Still she supposed it was true, that old saying that when one did so you always heard something negative about oneself.<br/><br/>This time it came in the form of Zara's response to the request by the cellist for her company. Her cheeks tinged with a blush, as fair as her skin was it would be hard pressed not to and she stepped backward a touch more, glad to be where she was, hidden in the shadows of one of the hallways for the moment to collect herself. She was skilled in plenty of things outside of reading, she had a strong client base she believed, and then there was her dancing, writing and scholar work. But this was the world she had chosen to live in, aware of its sharpness, aware of the darkness that it held because it offered her a way to write without fear of starving. Zara would hopefully forgive her for being chosen over her; perhaps she could offer to design a new corset for the other woman.<br/><br/>Such mulling thoughts though had no place when she heard Master Ryan's voice; Fiona bit her lower lip, glancing down at herself and at the book she still held in her hand before shrugging. The patron had come here looking for a discussion about at least one of her father's books if not more, it would not be an issue to appear with a book in hand no? And there was the fact that it was very much a part of her, and part of why certain clients enjoyed her company. Zara played the piano with a talent Fiona envied, and Fiona was the 'scholarly' one.<br/><br/>With one last brush to her skirt and intake of breath she glided into the open area of the ground floor, her footsteps light and only whispers against the gleaming floor. She almost stopped when she realized that to get to the man who requested her it would take her in direct path into Zara and the Master. Outwardly she showed no sign of her moment of worry, though she did move slower, very much there but seeming to glide along with no purpose as if she were only by chance strolling.