<br/><div class="floatright">(http://i46.photobucket.com/albums/f142/capwilly1/Westinghouse/EllaPrice.jpg) </div><strong>Who: </strong>Ella Price<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Outside Her Quarters<br/><strong>With:</strong>Lord Archibald Greymore<br/><strong>When:</strong>Noonish<br/><strong>What:</strong>Buttering Up His Lordship<br/><hr/><br/>Ella offered up her own sprightly smile at Lord Greymore’s comments and answered his question. “I’m Ella Price milord.” She told him. He seemed to be wanting something and a moment later he asked if she could cook. “Oh my yes, I’m a dapper cook milord,” she bubbled out, “a dab hand with a frying pan and a slab of mutton or a nice bit of fish.” She could cook in the French style, knowledge gained from watching her mother. But it was from years old memories and she sometimes forgot a step or two. Her attempt at bread without yeast had been a particularly solid experiment. As the lord smiled down at her, he told her that he was looking for a “little glass bottle..has pills in it.”<br/><br/>How did Ella explain that she had thoroughly cased the entire joint when she first moved in, slipping through the halls at night and eying its valuables for easily lifted, quickly fenced goodies. It wasn’t that she intended to steal from Lord Archie. But a girl liked to be prepared … in case. She had heard Nick hung months ago, but didn’t believe it. A rope wouldn’t dare choke Nick. He was far too deeply in league with the devil. “Little glass bottle, kind of brownish, small little pills in it, squirreled away behind the salt in the kitchen’s walk in cupboard,” she asked him diffidently. “Oh I can get it for you in a flash,” she told her current lord and master. She then stood up on her toes and leaned forward, a finger to her lips. “Just don’t tell them I put you on to the lie of it.” She winked and added, "hush, hush between you and me," before turning to scurry into the kitchen. Moments later, skirts flying, she returned with the small bottle that she had spotted earlier.