Stroking, gentle stroking of her skin, particularly of her palm and fingers. Fiona's touch was softer than that of silk, and for some reason in that particular moment when the copper-haired whore was looking at her so endearingly, something seemed to click in Lorraine. Enough so that the words Fiona spoke next washed against her ears as nothing short of an amused truth, a cure for the ailment that was Lorraine's concern with appearances... for the moment, "Most of your station, begging your pardon my Lady, would think of it only as you enjoying what they have themselves, at least in their private thoughts; however they may act otherwise." Fi's laughter mingled with Lorraine's own, for those words of truth and comfort did much to ease her, and Lorraine found herself leaning into Fiona's touch as the woman cupped her cheek and spoke softly to her, "We've had counselor's of high office, priests, cardinals, knights, artists, lords and ladies all here, not that any names I can share of course but you would be surprised how many of your peers come seeking something within the Teahouse and other places of its like." And then Fiona's hand drew away.<br/><br/>Lorraine's eyes followed Fiona as she stood and moved, a real sense of comfort drawing over her as the lady glided through the room. "You know.. Much as I'm loath to admit it, that you have entertained cardinals in such an establishment is not so great a surprise," Lorraine did loath to admit it, but the church was simply not what it pretended in regards to purity. She rested her own tea on her leg, balancing it long enough to slide her other hand free of its glove and brush her hair from her face. The first notes of the harp sounded within the chamber.<em>'It really is quite nice here.. And how can I expect anything to come of this if I don't relax...'</em><br/><br/>When her eyes turned toward the sound she found that Fiona was smiling at her again, and the smile was genuine and kind. She couldn't help beginning to feel that the lady radiated warmth, and that such warmth could not be feigned. "Do you have a particular song you wish to hear my Lady? I do so love playing harp, my father started me when I was young, and every time I play it feels a little like I'm a bard princess of old," Fiona asked, the tail end of her words alight with the sound of laughter, "Perhaps you could sing with me even so I may hear your talent."<br/><br/>Lorraine blinked her pale brown eyes at that suggestion, lips curling in what seemed like pleasure at the idea of Fiona wanting to hear, "Well certainly. Tell me, are you familiar with<em>A Lark among the Flowerbeds</em>by Harrison Redmond? I should sing that with you if you are." Lorraine's voice now carried a new energy with it, gentle but excited, as though born of some happy memory in her own history. She took a sip of the tea as she waited for Fiona's answer, brown eyes never leaving the other woman's face.