<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><em>Murmurs. Whispers. Murmurs. Whispers. Murmurs.</em> Zara tried to focus on her playing but the sound of voices kept interrupting her. Normally she would have no problem ignoring such interruptions but not when it was certain voices that she had come to know personally. Her fingertips faltered over the keys and she suddenly slammed her hands on the music keys, irritation flashing over her eyes. Really! Was it so much to ask for a little peace while she played? She had half a mind to go to Master Ryan and demand a piano in her own room. She rolled her eyes as she scowled to herself. No, he would never give her such an extraordinary gift.<br/><br/>She was certain he would for Fiona. Pretty little Fiona...whom Zara wanted to rip apart piece by piece.<br/><br/>With a soft and delicate sniff, Zara raised herself up and made sure her black lace gloves were perfectly in place before she made her way to where the voices where coming from. Her eyes suddenly sparkled when she saw Atticus...though they became turbulent when she spotted Fiona too. <em>Little bitch!</em> If Atticus had not been around, Zara would have dragged Fiona into a dark corner and finished what she had begun outside of the Teahouse. It was truly a good thing that they were in the main floor so she would have to wait...and waiting mean many possibilities for Zara's anger to be directed elsewhere.<br/><br/>Her eyes stared daggers at Fiona, her smile evil as she murmured in a sugar sweet voice, "Fiona. How was your quiet time in your room?" She tilted her head, her black hair fixed in place along one shoulder, eyes still hateful and angry towards the other whore. "I hope your time outside wasn't too...tiring."  After staring at Fiona silently for a few seconds longer than was proper, her eyes shifted to Atticus and they lowered submissively, her voice soft, "Evening, Atticus."<br/><br/>With a slight sway of her hips, Zara made her way towards the bar that was located in the room, her mouth parched and aching for something to burn its way down her throat. She would behave...for the Teahouse...she would behave.<br/><br/><em>But she will pay.</em> She fumed hatefully, her smile ruthless, <em>Somehow...someway...she wasn't get off easy.</em></span>