Ryan had been aware of the man's celibacy. Not because he was stalking him or anything, but merely because the entire House reported to him, and, yes, also details such as these. Though this was hardly a 'detail'.<br/>Ryan had thought Atticus probably just needed a break after this last occupation. It hadn't been the best of places he had gotten him from, his history clearly, literally, readable on his face.<br/><br/>He also knew, but not through the servants, the household, staff, random remarks by whores and clients, that Atticus had been, more or less, itching. This was not written on his face, however, but was visible in the way he moved -more graceful, deadly, catlike-, how he flirted, how he conversed.<br/><br/>How he wielded his sword.<br/><br/>So double.<br/><br/>"I know you do," he said, meeting the other man's eyes with his own, then locking as to not have his gaze wander along the toned, scarred, oh-so-masculine body before him.<br/><br/>"This is a whorehouse, if you're not aware, Louis. You're also quite.. desired. I have no doubt any of the men and women under this roof would be all too glad to invite you into their bed."<br/><br/>Inclining his head farther, long, raven black waves pouring down his chest, eyes still locked on his, he continued "....lets you wish not just about everyone to invite into<em>your</em>bed. Lest you have a certain person in mind?"