Atticus frowned, wondering how he was being an idiot. “If you dislike it so strongly, this may not be the right profession for you.  And I’m apologising because it happened, and it shouldn’t have.” He didn’t know when the rape had occurred, but he realised that it had probably been while he and Master Ryan had fucked. Guilt wormed through him, but he pushed it away – if the maids hadn’t heard it, he wouldn’t have, either.<br/><br/>He wanted to ask the boy if he had fought very hard, or made noise enough to bring attention, but he held back the questions, knowing Anel was too fragile to have them asked.<br/><br/>He shrugged slightly and said, “I know how hard reaching some places can be. If you need aid in the lotion’s application, I would be willing to help.” It would also let him see how much damage had been done... but, again, if Anel was able to walk without screaming, he was likely just a little roughed up.<br/><br/>“All right,” Atticus murmured in response. He wanted to reach out for the boy, touch him, but knew it would be rejected. “I’ll see you later, then.”<br/>