<br/><em>"You are always welcome to speak to me Atticus, you know I'm not so popular with the clients these days and my whenever my time is free I do hope you know I find delight in your company and indeed as well your discourse. You have a rich voice, the cadence is so... Alluring, yet soothing, your voice makes me think of protection and strength."</em><br/><br/>He couldn’t help but give a soft bark of laughter. “Is that so? Then I’m pleased.” It was good to know the hours of practice and the punishments he had weathered during his elocution lessons had not been wasted. He felt a strong desire to tell her it was a lie, that his true voice was coarse and vulgar, common as shit under boot. But he liked her, and didn’t want to ruin something she enjoyed. Even if it were a lie.<br/><br/><em> "I would gladly offer my services and gift of tongue to slay what monster words I may for you. No nightmares should trouble the sleep of a guardian so bold. Like in a tale, the faerie maiden gifts her chosen hero with weapons he might not think to need and he slays the beasts"</em><br/><br/>A slow smile of delight lit his face, relaxing at her playfulness, and he flourished a bow. “Then your hero is indebted.” He straightened and pushed his hair away from his eyes, his brow quirking upwards. “Though how to compensate? Only fools take a fae’s gifts without thought to the cost. You might steal me away in the night, or turn me into some vile beast.”<br/><br/>For a fleeting instant he saw the glance of light in the dead dark of his left, but he didn’t flinch or shy. No her. She didn’t do that. She was light and grace and tranquil smiles. There was no poison burning behind her eyes. His smile altered slightly, not so sure of himself any more but still calm and curious. “How might I please you?” He felt faintly selfish to ask, as if he would be safer somehow trading one favour for another.