At Master Ryan moved through the room, Atticus watched him, feeling an odd, unwelcome resentment towards those he murmured to, though he knew Adi nor Rubee deserved it. He had no right to feel this way. Was he so selfish that he wanted to be the only thing Master Ryan focused on? For a moment, he felt leather around his wrists again, felt heavy strands trail over his skin -<em>fuck, get a grip!</em>He looked away from the tall, powerful man, biting his lip for a second though it did not help when the bite mark left there flared hotly. At least he felt no jealousy for Anel.<br/><br/>The Master of the House left the room, and Atticus exhaled slowly. It must be the sex. Had to be. His gaze moved to the knight, then jerked away. Let it be something else...<br/><br/>He reached again for the cold, empty place, the perfect emptiness where there was not past or future, just doing what he had to to please the client. It was more difficult now, but his hold on it was firmer. He could carry it on until the artist was satisfied. He kept back and kept quiet as Rubee introduced herself, offered the line up for their pleasures. He wanted to just take the man up to his room and get it over with - but he couldn't find the courage to make it come faster.