PM to join [A Touchy Subject] Taking a Peek

[Fallon]

34th Spring 515 AV
Evening

Fallon twitched and then inhaled deeply. Her eyes were set towards the entrance door, her skin prickling as she stared at it from across the way. Masked in her own cloak, Fallon gave a leer at it, hood raised and the new cloths beneath clean and pristine. Perhaps they were not made of the finest velvet or silks, but they most certainly held their quality and were shaped to her form - decorated to make her appear above the more simpler classes of Zeltiva. Fingers gave a pull upon the gloves, an inhale as she bore her gaze down upon the seemingly sparse front of the the brothel - that was what it was at the end of her day by her logic, a house devoted to the acts of flesh, sensations and pleasure, debauchery in its finest. It was just that this establishment had an element of class to it over the others.

Not that the exterior seemed to suggest so, which caused Fallon to hesitate on immediately entering. Plain, unobtrusive, located within the belly of East Street - it was enough to give her a raise of the eyebrow and to carefully watch from the safety of the alleyway. A sturdy steel door guarded the entrance, the building itself reaching far above - three stories? She could not tell and the night had a way of distorting the size of things. Her hand gave a small tap within the folds of her cloak, the kukri hidden at the base of her spine by various fabrics and layers. Feet gave a shift, layers pulled in around her, rippling in the low lights and shadows as she crossed the space. The gloved hand gave only a push upon the door before the thrum of music and soft scents greeted her.

It was surreal when compared to the outside, a true reversal of what would normally be expected in such a building. There was the smallest widening of the eyes, a deep inhale as she steeled herself for what she was going to step into. Though not as gaudy as the Sanctum, it still held the similar ideals - space to lounge, the light scents and pieces appealing to the eye. Delicate, less obtrusive, it held its own charms for a variety of tastes. Not that she could appreciate them truly - her mind was too focused on maintaining the illusion of being a client while remembering the job at hand. It was with such careful steps that she entered the lobby area, cloak rippling back from her shoulders, the briefest flashes of clean clothing, fine leathers polished so they gleaned, the red following just behind. It disappeared again shortly after that, her gaze looking forward as she focused those steps - not hesitant, not nervous, the set face that she belonged there among the bodies.

It was during this snippet of time that she shifted, feet moving and padding lightly as her mind flickered through the plan she had in mind. She had previously sent a message onwards to Matthew, highlighting the plan she was scheming where possible - no, it was not for pleasure that she had graced such an establishment, it was for business and work. Somewhere inside was a target and his supposed familiar consort, a frequent visitor for some pleasure. It was up to her to snoop around to try and find information on such meetings. Though, catching them in the act would be an interesting picture, it was far from her intention - no, she needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible. Which was why she had brought the harlot into the equation.

There was the lightest, most delicate of brushes of her finger tips across the top of one the couches, a mere flicker of feigned interest to one of the gilded masks that tried to catch her eye. That playful utterance of noise crept after her, the teasing tones making chase as she eased herself down in among the cushions, arm reaching up and around the back of the chair. She let the drifter slide over, the half mask and hum within her ear, the briefest touches upon her jaw in the attempt to lure her in. There was a small purr, "Well... you're a new one, so brave for having entered our little den. Aren't you now? So... perhaps you'd like to have a little taste?"
"Perhaps? I do not know if you could satisfy my needs? I do have particular... tastes."

[Matthew]

The Harlot had made sure to do a bit of preparation on his end of things as well, or at least as much as he could. The Touchy Subject prided itself on privacy and secrecy. None of the employees that worked there would speak secrets that had been left safe with them. However, when it came to Fallon's request, Matthew didn't have to say a single word. That seemed to be an acceptable loophole. His calculating and logical mind could use the mental exercise, anyway. Back when they had shared similar exploits in Sunberth, something interesting had always happened. Now that he thought about it, she was one of his most regular customers, though with breaks between sessions. How interesting that one of the ones who put him to use the most was also one of the ones he had barely ever touched.

Evan Poole. He didn't know anything about the man. Whoever he was, his name had never been screamed in the hallways of the Touchy Subject. However, if he wished to have the most security for his private sessions, he would purchase a room at the top floor. Matthew had went ahead and spoke to the Madame to reserve him and his client a room there, letting her know that Fallon would come to the lounge to wait for him. The Madame had agreed, though only this once. She was the face of the Touchy Subject and everyone had to go through her, no matter how shy they were or who they knew. She certainly didn't mind someone specifically requesting for Matthew to provide service. If the man brought in customers, she was more than happy to let them indulge in what they came for.

Dressed as well as ever in a dark and fitting suit, Matthew spotted Fallon sitting in one of the many plush couches. Gracefully gliding in her direction, the Harlot was also quick to notice the presence of another employee. The other half-masked man seemed to be attempting to advertise himself to her.

That simply wouldn't do.

His fully unleashed presence was practically a force that could be felt in the air, generated by a Master of seductive craft. It rolled from him, replacing what was once an easily-missed person in the background to an approaching force of combined temptation and enticement. His appearance, his movement, his clothing, his attitude, his aura all molded together to drip with silent suggestions of all the filthy things he could offer. He had evolved as a professional. No longer was anything sacred. No longer was a state of arousal even needed to initiate interaction. When he focused the full extent of his skills upon the average client, he would suddenly be the only thing sacred to them and arousal would be synonymous with his name. It was with that presence that the other employee turned to stare at the approaching harlot without Matthew having to say a word.

"Please find another seat. This client belongs to me." He said it in a way that expressed possessiveness in more than just the sense of her belonging to him as a client. It was a strong insinuation that she was his as a lover, warning the other employee to tread lightly. "Fine. I will satisfy my tastes elsewhere. I hope you don't find yourself unsatisfied and wishing you had chose differently, kitten." He winked at Fallon and then slid off, on the hunt for new prey.

Matthew gracefully sat beside of his associate, close enough for their hips to barely brush. He leaned back, a slim arm casually slipping over her shoulders. Both movements were carefully calculated to take Fallon into consideration. He merely draped his arm over her cloaked shoulders, he didn't also brush the curve of her shoulder with his fingertips. He only barely pressed his hip to hers, but he did not press it close enough for her to feel the detail of his defined flesh caressing hers. The physical touch skillfully walked a line between friendly and intimate, wanting to keep Fallon as comfortable as possible while still making it visible that he had laid a claim.

Soon after the other employee left, Matthew stopped putting the full amount of effort into his presence, both having no desire to actually entice Fallon and knowing that while part of her seemingly was enticed at a base level, there was a bigger part of her that seemed to instinctively flinch away. He did not wish for her discomfort. "Hello. I have reserved a room for us on the top floor. We can go there as soon as you like."

[Fallon]

There was that momentary blip where the harlot that had chosen her paused, the eyes flickered away from behind the mask and upwards. The purr fell quiet, the withdrawing as the low disappointing noise rumbled out instead. He sighed, peeling himself away and giving Fallon the momentary reflex to rub at her jaw - hoping to smear away the uncomfortable sensation that danced across her skin. Unclean, horrible, filth, the orbs gave a flicker of feigned interest up to the speaker - recognising the voice as Matthew's - and simply let her lip curl. Disappoint, the harlot returned to his prowling while the other replaced him.

No doubt he felt the smallest flinch of recoil as he took his seat, hairs rising, prickling before she pushed the sensation down. Her orbs gave a flicker around the room, allowing herself to ease back into the couch. Find a level playing field in which to work upon, keep the guise of client at the fore, while maintaining focus on the job at hand. This was not a quest of pleasure or indulgence, this was an investigation and she had to play as inconspicuous as possible - or risk losing her own prey. Starting at his shoes, her gaze slowly rose a small shift to place her left hand beneath his chin to turn it towards her, "Dressed well as always, aren't you now?" She gave a lean in aiming for the neck, "And so good of you to get a room."

"We'll slow walk up to the room," She breathed into his ear, quiet so no one else could hear, "I want to do a reading, pace the inside, know where things are. I don't like being trapped. Understand?" She pulled away then, gaze turning away to look at the masks, "So many beautiful things, don't you think? All gilded and gold, hiding and disguising what is going on beneath. A delicious tableaux don't you think?" With a small tilt of the chin she turned, gaze counting the portals that adorned it - there was the door out into the world itself, then there was the stairs that climbed upwards to the next floor. The gaze shifted, looking around Matthew, counting three doors off to various places within the establishment, the middle one being the most elaborate Fallon reasoned it must belong to someone. Moving she let her head rest back, a quick stealing as she counted the doors that stood opposite each other.

With a curl of the lips she spoke, "Upstairs did you say?" She pulled slightly away from him, shifting her weight and wriggling as she gathered herself together. She gave the smallest incline of the head upwards, "Come, show me. Perhaps there will be a few small surprises on the way. No?" It was slowly she began to ease herself up, climbing out of the soft comforts. Beneath the folds of the cloak she tugged upon her gloves, pulling them off and letting the bare digits wiggle freely in the air, "So... going to indulge this little wolf in this den of lions?"

[Matthew]

Even feeling the slightest of recoils from his client, Matthew did not break appearances. He merely lounged there, arm lightly and carefully draped over her shoulders. He wondered if anyone else put the same level of thought that he did into what outwardly looked like a very simple show of affection. To him, there were multiple factors to consider. The weight of his arm, how casually he let it rest, what his fingers did and how snugly the crook of his elbow fit into the back of her neck. His thoughts were interrupted however, Fallon touching at his chin and tugging it to the side so that they could be facing each other. For a moment, the Harlot wondered how very foreign his face must look to her. Did the slight tease of a smile that curved his lips look out of place? Did the expression of mild pleasure and affection twist his features into something that simply wasn't Matthew? When it came to most everyone else, they would never know the difference between the normal Matthew and the one who worked within the brothels. Fallon though, she had seen him outside of such places. She would be familiar with the distant absence in his eyes, as if nothing else was there but pure thought.

Lifting his chin to allow her access to the side of his neck, a look of brief bliss crossing his face for all others to see while he carefully listened to the words the Wolf spoke. Letting his smile widened ever-so-slightly, he nodded, pulling back a bit so that he could make eye contact, his voice light and rather whimsical. "Of course I would reserve us a room. Is it professional to admit that I've been looking forward to this?"

After allowing her a moment to rise, he followed, nodding at her comment about the masks. "I have one myself." He reached to his side, fingers brushing where the mask was hooked. His was different than most, one that fully covered the face and only had openings for his eyes. It was much less decorated than all the others, the Harlot instead opting to use a plain white. "I suppose the Madame likes to wrap her men and women up like little presents to be unwrapped once they are within a bedroom. I like the idea, in a sense. I like the challenge. There is a certain level of satisfaction in tempting someone to give into their instinctual desires, making them so very hungry that they simply don't care what I may look like."

As her bare hand lifted and the digits wiggled, she would find that Matthew's own hand soon rose to meet it, palms pressing together in midair. He studied the contrast for a moment, his slim and elegant fingers against her own. They were actually rather similar in appearance, though his were slightly larger. With a tilt of his head he regarded them for a tick longer and then slowly laced the fingers, letting their clasped hands fall between them as he took the lead. "Let me give you the tour then, at least one that I can give while eagerly heading for the bedroom." He walked slowly and gracefully, giving her ample time to scout out their surroundings, soon approaching and heading up the nearby stair. At her final comment, he smirked, casting glittering blue eyes at her with a low and oddly husky chuckle. "Oh please. I've experienced your appetite. I certainly agree that you are the wolf, but I would argue that we are the herd of helpless sheep when offered before you."

[Fallon]

Matthew did as he did best, he played the part of some purring lover and pushed the illusion to cover the entirety of the small scene between them. For the best, she did not need some illusion blow by a misstep or some ill placed word. She did however, find the momentary place of emotion upon his face. A mask of what was truly going on beneath the skin, as opposed to the physical mask that hid the expressions behind one crafted from materials. It made her wonder for a moment, if this was the normal behaviour of Matthew, if it was something true that existed beneath the surface? She merely played coy with him to his comment, "Oh, not particularly... but I will let you off. Just this once. I don't want you to get too eager now."

She let him stand, the hand being taken with practiced ease and the playful offer of words being strung between them. It was beneath the layers however that her skin began to writhe, a gentle itch at the joints, the hairs prickling as the feigned familiar touch was placed between. She pushed her lips up into a curl, the distinct sensation of filth clinging into her nails - though that was far from the case. Even the throat gave the smallest pull at tightening before she rather forcefully pushed the feeling within down. Her eyes gave a glance down to his mask then, a flicker of interest as she considered it - a useful tool for one to pass about the eyes, seen but far from seen. Hidden in plain sight. She gave a chuckle then, "Then surely you spoil I by revealing yourself before the hunt? Still, that is wise of the Madame."

Letting him lead gave Fallon the opportunity to drink in the surroundings once more, a last fleeting look of where the doors were and her present way out, before she was pulled along. It was the left however that trembled, in the air, finger tips gently stroking against the surfaces as she was gently pulled along to follow after him. Her head simply gave a rest against his arm as she walked, a firm hold as she let the eyes look and the mind slowly begin its wander. The Lykata gave a buzz, gently thrumming into life as she inhaled the scents in and took a deep breath. Her throat gave a hum, feet lifting so she did not catch the steps and trip.

Her head turned to him, a subtle response of acknowledgement while her eyes remained glazed in comparison to their usual sharpness. Her lips gave the smallest twitch, her steps slower and more timed in their beat, the blinks more gradual and gentle. It was the mind however that was very much alive and ticking, buzzing with considerations as she walked.

The steps, greet, lead, loan. Cause and addiction. A lust. Worry, hosting, will it be enough? Will they like it? Will they notice? There was a small bump, the wood groaning beneath as she continued, Notice? Notice what? Laughter. Sound. The quick breaths of the eager. But it was feigned by both. Her head gave a small tilt up towards Matthew, a small crease in the brow forming. The hand touched against the hallway wall, slowly dragging and feeling the bumps beneath, False. False all of it. Fourth room. Need to talk. Need to stop this. Groaning. Luring. Sweat and salt. Craving desires that clawed and sunk in. The hand that was being held flinched, tensed, and eased off, Name. Name. Poole, returned again. Back for the same. The half mask woman. There was a sharp blink and a shudder, a chill almost passing through. The orbs sharpened once more and she looked back up to Matthew properly now, "So kind of you to give a tour. I wonder what the main event will be like... don't you?"

[Matthew]

"Too eager?" For the briefest tick, something slipped, the Harlot briefly rising to the surface in a ripple of subtle energy in the air. "I am already too eager." The change was most noticeable in the way his eyes slowly traveled down the length of her body, tracing every last slope with patient precision. There was certainly an admiration there, as a man admired a woman, but there was something else there as well. His eyes left nothing out, sweeping patiently over her figure as his pink tongue slowly slipped out and carefully ran across his lower lip. Perhaps then it would become painfully clear. His eyes were mapping a route across the expanse of her flesh. His stare was a mere pioneer, plotting a path for where his tongue would trace roads upon the kingdom he planned to conquest via a campaign of pure and primal petching. "I'm so very hungry, Fallon. But I'll be good."

Perhaps Fallon could find comfort in those same eyes that spoke of such filthy things. They still had that core of cold that proved this was all but an act to the talented slattern. His phsyical body was moving as he had trained it to move for many seasons. At the same time his mind was moving, focused on something entirely different.

Filth.

He didn't even have to burn djed to fuel his Auristics, able to effortlessly sense it on the edge of his perception. It leaked down the back of his throat, once again calling to mind the appearance and imagined taste of oil. When her eyes glazed over, his hand tightened ever-so-slightly on her own. He made sure that his step matched her own right as she seemed to do the same, their shared pace lightly pulsing out a soft tune. He kept a careful eye on her, not sure what to expect. Was it magic? Was it something different? In the end, neither one was really a part of the job he had been hired for. He decided to ignore it, to focus on the safety of his client. He would continue to guide her and support her while she did what it was she had come to do.

You taste like filth, Bitzer.

He suddenly remembered the way her aura had appeared to him, back at the Saville. "I do wonder. I certainly have my hopes, I can assure you." The corners of his lips lifted in a teasing smirk, eyes glancing down to her own once again, meeting them briefly before returning to watch where they were walking. Soon they would find themselves before a single door, the one Matthew had set aside for them. "Shall we begin?" If there was nothing else and no sudden change in plans, the Harlot would reach forward, twisting the knob and pushing it open to reveal the room beyond. It was a gorgeous room, clothed in red silks and simple furniture. Small trays of food could be found upon a nearby tabletop, along with a bottle of red wine. The bed was the biggest and best-looking piece of furniture, predictably.

What damaged you, Bitzer? What filth has seeped into you since we last met? Didn't they call you the Red Wolf, Bitzer? You don't taste like courage or danger.

You taste like mud upon my tongue.

No longer a wolf. No longer a pup. Wounded. Cracked.

Fallen.

And it is disgusting.

[Fallon]

Pimples, that was what rose upon her skin as she looked up to those eyes that stared back down upon her, searching and looking for something. There was the smallest pull back into her neck then, the eyes widening as she simply looked back, the eyes telling too much on what could potentially be playing upon his consciousness. Part of her faulted then, jaw setting, the smallest pull in of her brow as she contemplated him and the expression he wore. It was within though, that the faintest sensation that burned within that grew and brightened with each step - fear. The gaze snapped away to the door as it was opened, the briefest of pauses as she tried to obtain a grip upon herself. This was work, a guise, fake, he would not do anything would he?

You are Filth! Foul and ruined!

It was with a step in that she shifted, her eyes flickering around the furnishings that showed the value held. A Touchy Subject was indeed a place for the richer members of society to partake in, and if it was not the entrance that displayed such a fact then it was the individual rooms that were garnished as so. She moved, freeing herself from Matthew silent as she looked to the table top, the additional services of food and drink caught within her gaze - it made her wonder if they were included as an incentive or laid there as another money tap. She did not stray there for too long however, and deliberately stepped past the bed to allow herself collapse into one of the chairs.

Dirty, broken, ruined. You are no wolf. Coward! COWARD!

With her head leaning back to rest up the surface she blinked, trying to gather her thoughts as she settled and stilled the mind. He would not hurt her, she would not let him for one. It was with the unclipping of her cloak that she let it hang upon the chair, a lean forward as she firstly pulled her gloves neatly back on and then rested her chin within her palms. She allowed thought to take over, the mind to fall into the analysis and the little information she did have come to her in throbs. Poole was the name that struck her the most, versed in secrecy and something much more. But that was the nature of the establishment, client privacy had to be assured in all cases.

You do not deserve what has been granted to you. Don't touch, Filth! FILTH!

She inhaled, letting her eyes close momentarily as she gathered her thoughts together and slowly began to speak, "Are we truly alone here? No one else going to rip out of the bed covers and armed men aren't going to charge through the door?" She cracked a lid open at him then, letting her expression tire for the moment. There was no need for masks here, not in private, "So begin. Let's see... Evan Poole, regular here, sees the same client all the time..." Fallon rubbed her jaw, another deep inhale as she pushed the sensation that pulled at her innards downwards into her pit. A forced smother, "But didn't want to be here for... that."

You don't deserve this. Mindless beast. Blood covered. Never come out. Never!

With a hum, Fallon leaned forward then, steepling her fingers and letting her gaze flicker, "There is a woman with a half mask involved, least, that is the impression I get. If... my assessments are correct, it is her that he continues to regularly visit. Would you know her? Or do you not converse with the other employees?" Her brow lifted and looked at Matthew then, her lips twitching into a line as she contemplated what she did know, "Who uses the Fourth room out of interest?" It was perhaps only then that she had noticed her hands had moved, finger tips massaging at her collar bone, then up into the shoulder, touching and then gripping into the fabric - the imagined stickiness making her quickly withdraw away. It was with a forced stand that she began to bring herself up and to pace, a deep inhale as she worked her way back and forth along the length of the room, "How thin are the walls Matthew?"

[Matthew]

The crystal-clear blue eyes did not wander away from Fallon, instead staying intensely focused as Matthew slowly lifted a hand. Parting his lips slightly, the Harlot dragged his fingertips across his mouth, wiping at a filth he could not quite locate. Pulling his fingers away from his mouth, he finally broke the steadiness of his stare to glance down at his hand. There was nothing to be found on his flesh except for the almost invisible sheen of his own saliva. There was no oil, no mud, no taint or filth. His eyes lifted slowly, returning to Bitzer. The taste still remained in the back of his throat. Why did the taste still remain even though there was nothing there to cause it? Perhaps his Auristics had advanced to the point where he could simply sense the minor details? His thoughts wandered back to that day at the shops, that day being the only other time he had tasted such a flavor.

"We are alone, yes. This is a much different place than Sunberth and a much different situation than the situation back then." The speed at which the Harlot vanished and Matthew reappeared was remarkable, all outward seduction dropping away as if he had just stripped off an outfit and quickly slipped into another. Now he merely stood there, distant and slightly cold, eyes carefully examining the woman before him. The lingering feeling of something being off was disturbing him. He rarely felt something so clearly distinguishable. He wanted it gone.

"I do converse with other employees. It depends on the exact description of the mask. There are two with masks that cover one side of their face. There is one that has a mask who covers the upper half of her face, down just a bit past her nose. I do talk with the other employees on a casual basis. Healthy work relationships encourage a positive working environment. I discuss professional things with them, such as when a customer wishes to have a threesome, and I also engage in small talk." At her next question, he paused for a moment and then his gaze went to a distant place, Matthew diving within his own mind to access his memories. The fourth room? "The rooms aren't usually assigned to individuals. When the customer pays for their service, depending on the service they are taken to a certain floor. However, some employees do have favorite rooms. If you have a particular time frame, I could-"

He paused, something in his head clicking. "Or we can cross reference. Amelia, with a horizontal half-mask, often uses that room." He noticed her odd movements, eyes dropping to follow her fingertips as they touched to her flesh. His head tilted to the side, bile rising briefly in the back of his throat.

You make me want to vomit, Bitzer.

"Relatively. I don't know if the building was originally constructed with privacy in mind. It differs, room to room. None of them are incredibly thick, though. What happened to the Scars after I left?" He took a step closer to her, eyes slowly refocusing on her own, drilling her with that steady gaze even if she refused to look at him. "I understand you and the other Scars supported Kaie. However, something is wrong." His voice had changed just a bit, taken on just a slight urgent edge. That slight change was something very rare for Matthew. "To be more specific, something is wrong with you. I don't know what. But something happened to you, didn't it? I can taste it in the air." Another step closer and his head tilted even further, like a doctor staring down upon a helpless patient. "It tastes like filth. I want the taste to go away, Bitzer."

[Fallon]

Fallon's hands clasped together, fingers and flesh wringing out as she let the sticking sensation continue to find hold there. Leather stuck and her digits, her eyes looking down to the floor as she considered his answers. Her head gave a nod as she continued to pace. Steps, light, her mind flickering through what she had seen with the Lykata, the mind piecing together the pieces of information that could be garnered. Several people, rooms, options, female - very much so. There was a hum of consideration, her eyes darting around the room as she flickered through the descriptions, "Yes, half mask. Shows the jaw... I think? Feel, would be the better description. Small talk though, anything interesting?" She looked at Matthew from beneath her brow then, "Or just normal Harlot slander?"

Her gaze flickered to the mention of Amelia however, brow rising and recording it in her mind, "Amelia, Amelia... does she speak of herself much? That is, if you speak to her at all?" Her arms folded then, her eyes flickering around the room, ears straining to try and hear through the walls. Was any one listening? Were there eyes and ears always looking for information? Her lips pursed into a line, pacing momentarily stopping with the wood groaning beneath her feet, "Do you know of her clients? Or is that all confidential?"

It was perhaps she already knew the answer, this was a touchy subject. A place built for desire and privacy - such details would have to be brought for coin she imagined, a bribe or perhaps more correctly an incentive. She would not stoop to such levels just yet, she had only so much to her name and suddenly spending more would be far from wise. Coin was a tool that should only be used as a last resort, not just on a whim. With an inhale she began her steps again, finger tips tracing the surfaces as she once more settled herself against one of the walls. She could feel her leg twitching, the cold chill tracing its way down her spine as she felt that nauseas feeling settle in her stomach. Letting her eyes close, the woman pinched her brow, a deep calming inhale as she focused on drowning it out and wiping the mental slate clean. She needed to focus, divide the information without the influence of emotions clouding her.

Matthew's words however caught her off guard however. The eyes flickered open, burning at him as she repeated those words. Her jaw set, teeth clenching together as she peered upon him. The orbs sharpened, glinting and sapping back the warmth to only be replaced with cold, her hand peeling away from her face. Both of them came clasping behind her then, knuckles cracking into their fists, the nostrils flaring as the accusation was placed before her-

Weak. You are filth. You are nothing. Broken. Shattered.

- how dare he question her. She felt the chill clench onto her throat, the hard lump forming in her air ways. Him with his feigned tones, why bother? Was it a trick? A trap? Was he really using himself as bait to lure her in to a place with her guard down? Her eyes flickered briefly to the door, counting the steps out and trailing them out of the establishment. Could she make that sprint? Was she faster than Matthew? Probably, she reasoned. He may have carried looks, but that did not mean he cared or worked his body in the same way. But why ask now of all times?

"Nothing happened," She answered through tight lips. Her chin gave a rise in challenge, shoulders squaring as she tried to push down the sensation. It was another however that was growing in her stomach, the cold liquid energy that snaked its way up into her lungs, her throat, her tongue and lips. Lips peeled back, a flash of teeth as her arm gave a tremble, a hiss of noise escaping between with the slinking undertones, the thoughts of the subconscious shuddering in the back of her mind into something more - back off - "Maybe you should stop tasting then. Ignore it. Pay it no mind." Her voice was curt, "Might be for the best in this situation, don't you think?" The mind sharpened, a forceful pressing push against the front of her skull as she spoke, "After all, what is it to want?"

[Matthew]

There were oddities in her words that his mind took note of and then quickly filed away for later review. Describing it as a feeling instead of thinking was a curious thing, but not what was truly important right now. No, there were other things that were much more pressing, such as the unpalatable grease that seemed to be somehow multiplying as it slid down the sides of his throat. "Sometimes it is interesting chatter, but I rarely expend the mental space required to retain any of it. What exactly do you categorize as interesting?" He blinked at her, not stating the question because of any personal interest in the matter, merely wanting additional filters that would help narrow the search through his inner archive.

"Amelia does speak of herself. Rarely of her clients, though sometimes she shows a more unprofessional side and engages in gossip. This is not advisable, though many of the harlots do not seem to understand that. Whenever she speaks of someone that is not my client, those secrets are not mine to keep. I sometimes speak to her and she engages in more of such behavior while I only offer small talk. I know of a few of her clients. Is there one in particular you have come for, Bitzer?" He had realized some time ago that he never called her by a single name. Sometimes it was Fallon, sometimes it was Bitzer, sometimes he simply referred to her as the Wolf. He had not yet come to understand why this was. Perhaps it was just a habit he had developed at some point. "You do know what I am, though. There is only so much help I can offer before I will request that you make me your Harlot. Then you could do what you willed with me. People never seem to understand that an object such as myself can be used for so much more than petty pleasure."

Nothing had happened? "Why are you lying to me? What do you hide?" Again he stepped forward, blue eyes seeming to brighten by the moment, his approach not at all aggressive but intensely focused. Everything else had faded from his mind. Fallon herself had perhaps never seen him as alive as he was now. What was normally a blank husk of a man was now a creature who loomed, stare flickering with something very foreign. Desperation. Desperation to understand what was happening to him, why he could feel such things and how it all related to the woman before him. Something was tugging at the pit of his stomach, a well of an emotion he had very little information on. Where had it felt it before? It was a very distant memory. A memory he shared with his sister.

Something else swiftly layered itself atop the well in his stomach, pausing the Harlot in his advance. He blinked, obviously not understanding the silent urge that had filled him. He had wanted to step back. Why had he wanted to step back? It was even more concerning to glance down upon his feet and realize he already had stepped back. He stared down at his feet for a moment before snapping his head up, chest briefly flaring with heat. Had he just tasted what he thought he had? She dared? She dared?

No, it was a different taste. There was a subtle difference to it, but enough of one that his suspicions were quickly tossed to the side and forgotten as if the temper flare had been that of a child. No longer advancing, Matthew decided to try something else instead, their original purpose forgotten. Testing the waters that lay before him, he clenched his jaw and snuffed the tiniest bit of Djed from within his veins. The energy burned, expended to feed his Auristics and bring better understanding of the creature before him. "Pay it no mind? I couldn't stop if I wanted. The auras, they speak to me now. They touch me. They sing." So obsessed was he that he did not even consider the fact that she most likely did not have a clue what he was talking about. It didn't matter. "If you will not tell then I will merely look for myself and see."

The cracked oval of an aura was set around her like a barricade, the side that was facing him actually flattened as if to focus a certain level of defense against what Bitzer seemed to see as an attack. It seemed to teeter between shattering and standing strong, in a constant state of flux. The sight of the aura strengthened the taste of her filth upon his lips and briefly filled his ears with music that sounded like bestial gasps of genuine pain. Another sliver of Djed was burnt and offered up to her aura, Matthew instantly regretting the decision as soon as he made it. Emotion flooded his skull, a flurry of complexities that he could not understand, ones that were no doubt within Bitzer herself.

The Harlot hastily retreated, instantly cutting off his connection to her aura. He leaped upon the emotions within his mind, wrapping his fingers around their throats to strangle them silent. When he spoke, it was with that same calm and passive voice, his apathetic tone not betraying the brief moment of chaos he had just experienced. "What broke you, Fallon? What hurt you?"

He was so purposefully ignorant to the effects that powerful emotion could have. He was ignorant enough not to even realize that tears glistened in his eyes, a sharp contrast to the emptiness of his handsome face and polite tone.