Fiona's full lips quirked a touch, almost a smile, laughter shinning in her eyes at his comparison of himself to a child reaching for more then he could take on or something he might not enjoy. Apparently he was not as much for flattery as she had first supposed, the way he had bragged of his music's success had lead her to that conclusion but the new knowledge was just that, knowledge and she filed it away like everything else to be used to further please him. "I shall hope nothing of my company then encourages you to part with an ear, of love I can say little though." Her reply was soft, a touch witty with that inflection of mirth lingering in her tone.<br/><br/>The red head noted that the Master of the House had moved off, and so too had Anel and his client, the other Teahouse worker very much gloating she noted over his conquest. It did not bother her, unlike the others who saw this all as a competition for Fi it was something different. She loved writing but women writers were not well respected, at least not well enough that while writing she could have any other job without the fear of loosing it for lack of being respectable; being a whore allowed her to write without fear and paid for it as well. It was also the fact that to her it was about the connection and the people, the fact that she could bring them some small form of wonder, relaxation and escape from the busy world.<br/><br/>Her sea like eyes shimmered in delight as he broke into conversation about her father's book and she inclined her head, laughing. "His muse was...interesting. He worked on that book when I was nine and the count was often mentioned to keep me in line to behave properly, my mother teased me so." One hand gathered the tulle of her skirts, turning her body every so slightly in a invitation to the cellist to move closer. "However if we are to truly enjoy this conversation I think it best to adjourn to my room rather then the stairs. Please Mr. Masato, follow me if you will."