Anel had watched the whole exchange between the two female whores with slightly narrowed eyes, a small smirk playing over his lips; it was always amusing to watch Zara tear someone else to pieces for a change, even though he disliked how little of a fight Fiona put. Not that he expected anything less, and he rolled his eyes with a slight wrinkle of his brow as the darker haired woman advanced and moved to kiss the other, swiftly averting his eyes. Why anyone enjoyed the sight of such a thing was beyond him; a terrible breasts to penis ratio...<br/><br/>Still, the golden haired whore didn't move from his position on the swing, listening closely to every word shared between the pair; it was always useful to have gossip for future uses, and the garden seemed to be rife with it. Unfortunately, the show seemed to end rather abruptly as the servant came and requested Zara's services, something that brought forth a small smile to the boy's lips. He would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly wanted the other whore to do well; they were kindred spirits in their mutual bitchy ways, and Anel couldn't help but have a soft spot for her...<br/><br/>His mood, while being nowhere near lifted, had upped from the height of depression as he watched the pair leave him to blissful solitude, laying back upon the swing with a heavy sigh and allowing his eyes to slide closed. Maybe he could sleep... Just for a few moments...<br/><br/>But of course, the Teahouse had a different plan for him, and as Atticus' voice drifted from the garden, Anel tensed briefly, a frown coming to his lips. He blamed the bodyguard more than the Master, if he could blame anyone but Gareth... He knew the feelings weren't helpful, and he tried to push them to one side as it was true that the pair couldn't be watching everyone all the time... Even so...<br/><br/>"Zara had a client... Don't know about Fiona." Came the quiet and rather short reply as he slowly raised himself to a seated position, eyes opening to look down at the smooth skin of his thighs that his small robe didn't hide, drumming slender fingertips upon his legs idly. "You'll probably have more of an interesting conversation with Fiona, why don't you talk to her instead?" He chuckled; a forced sound.<br/><br/>"I'd just make comments about how much I want you to sheathe your sword, and other terrible innuendos..."