The use of his name jolted through him, and he lifted his head, focusing on Lessard. There was a power in the slender man that caught Atticus unawares. Not as heady as Master Ryan’s but still there. In his ragged state, Atticus was all too eager to bow to the whore’s cool control. Atticus; breathing steadied, became more natural as he listened with rapt attention to the level voice. It was not contest between letting himself think and think in tight, agonising, repetitive patterns, or to take what Lessard said as truth, all smooth and simple. He was out of practice at letting another think for him, his thoughts trying to circle back on themselves, see deeper into the facts, try to find the point in the future where he would be betrayed, or tricked, or fouled.<br/><br/>It took effort to stop that, jerking his mind from those dark, bitter ideas. He rubbed his hand against his covered eye and swallowed again. Did he trust Master Ryan or not? He had never asked too much from him, but for today. Yet was that the Master’s fault? He’d asked if Atticus had wanted the sex, asked if he had wanted the client. There was always an option to say no. A freedom that he didn’t have to give. Offering that choice... it made him not the Mistress of the Briars. He’d had pimps before them both who were not cruel, but neither kind. And he knew Master Ryan wasn’t the type of kind written about in the books Fiona pored over, but it was a better sort, hard and real.<br/><br/>Did he trust Master Ryan? Atticus lowered his hand and touched his wrist knowing there would be small bruises under his cuffs where he had fought the belts. He had trusted that same morning. Let himself be tied. The knife had scared him, but not much. Did he still trust? He wanted to. He wanted to. For a moment he wished to were Master Ryan sat across from him, but then flinched back from it. No, no he didn’t. It was good that it was Lessard. He needed prospective.<br/><br/>“You’re right,” he said, his voice still tight but his stutter was under control and his accent had shifted, edging back to his usual smooth upper city inflection. “I know, I just... it startled me. I thought –”<em> I was safe</em>. But he was safe, wasn’t he? The man was talking to Ryan, Cam and Anel. Maybe setting up a ménage. Nothing to do with him. It was fine, it was fine.<br/>