Atticus’ attention flicked to the lady as she spoke and smoothed over the verbal bungles of her lord, offering the name of another client. It was a struggle not to let his cynicism show when she said her man, Sir Nicholas, would truly only desire to look on, and not indulge. But... they were not attempting to get a lower rate. Maybe the Lord was just shy, not stupid.<br/><br/>Master Ryan’s gesture caught his eye, though it was a near thing with the Master being on his blind side. He leant towards him, a hollow rush in his stomach, sure to hear an order.<br/><br/><em> "I'm leaving this decision in your hands, Louis. Pose, if you think you can trust him. You have my permission to act if he does anything against your will..."</em><br/><br/>A snatch of breath left him in a soft rush of surprise. His choice to make? He nodded slightly and straightened, utterly perplexed. What was he meant to do? What did Master Ryan want him to do? Protect the House, but was that it? Pleasing the clients was not his to attend to anymore. But the money that Sir Nicholas was dangling was... a lot. If he was willing to spend the sum of a three-whore fee – more, considering how ‘special’ Master Ryan had dubbed him – and then another gift at the end...<br/><br/>His hand was clenched so tight his nailbeds ached and he forced it open before he tore one of them. At least the gloved had protected his palm from being bloodied. He swallowed and murmured to the lord, “Then, I will be at your disposal sir.”<br/><br/>He felt peculiar again, his lunch churning with revulsion at the ideas he was having of what would soon follow – ah, he was such a coward. He would not be afraid of doing this. For Ellen. For James. It was for them.<br/>