With her first client of the day already seen to and gone from the Teahouse, or perhaps not gone, perhaps going to find Zara, not that it mattered, Fiona found herself once again alone with little to do. Three years here, three years of service to the Teahouse and while she still had the up most respect for Master Ryan and those who tended to the house Fiona found she had little in the way of friends. It was not something that most would complain of though, she reflected as she wove her way through the gardens, down the paths she knew so well, toward the more secluded places that offered some form of privacy. She had a beautiful room, with anything she could have desired provided for her through a discreet request to Ryan, so long as she earned her keep; she had the time to work on her writing and design gowns, she had several loyal, wonderful clients. Really she had little to complain of.<br/><br/>But even with that in mind the redhead's normal sunny disposition was somewhat less as she found the little gazebo she had had in mind; she wanted someone with whom she could be completely unguarded with. This time on her trip out she had taken a basket packed with a light picnic, her idea journal, used both for clothing sketches and her writing musings. Part of her just wanted to stare out at the gardens in this secluded corner of them and think.<br/><br/>She was the sunny one, the easy going one but that only lasted so long and went so far, everyone needed a bit of 'off' time and so she was finding hers here, in a part of the gardens usually unused in this time of the day, hoping to avoid everyone. Fiona had of course told one of the maids, Mary, who she was easy with that she would be out here should the Master need her. Even when she was trying to find her own escapes she was aware that her time was not her own. Did whore's take vacation? She laughed softly to herself at the very concept, setting her basket down on the iron worked table that rested in the center of the gazebo, settling herself down in a chair before she unpacked the contents of the basket. First came a bottle of sparkling water, and then napkin that was wrapped around a few lady like sandwiches, another bundled cloth containing a few short bread biscuits for a sweet, and an apple. A simple, light meal.<br/><br/>Her hands went to her idea journal though, and the pencil she had brought out with it, over her normal quill for writing. She hadn't wanted to fuss with ink in the garden. Idly twirling the lead in her fingers she flipped through the journal to a blank page and then relaxed back into her chair further, tapping the lead against the page as she stared out at the sunlight, beautiful garden. Several types of flowers were in bloom, their scent a faint lingering thing that made her think of May Day and the old tales, wondering at weaving a crown of flowers just for the sake of it. She let her mind wander, filled with idle day dreams and fancies, her fingers moving every so often to sketch out this, or write a snippet of that. And so she unwound and tried to find the way back to the sunshine that lay within her own heart.