YOU HURT ME. HURT ME IN THE BOOB. YOU BOOB.
His words were easy to interpret. Isabella's smile was thin, though it was directed to the man. She knew how he must have felt to know to have a woman such as her at his disposal. And she knew she was not a cheap creature, but she could hardly lower her prices for the man. Perhaps she ought to give him some complimentary appearances, simply as a thanks, but that would show weakness. No, she would be firm. After all, two seasoned players in a game such as this could not flinch. She would not be the weak one here, and she would not lose face before the man. Anything else would be misconstrued; perhaps he would think she had feelings for him or perhaps actually cared about him like men and women had a habit of doing. No, her affection for the man was for her King, Master, and Client. Anything else would be irresponsible and she knew better, and learned her lessons well from a young age.
Isabella bobbed her head slightly to her Thistle King, smoothly turning about to return to the parlor. She had some cushioned stone benches around a stone and wood table. She gestured to Sirius to take one of the seats, especially since they were good quality. The table had been recently cleaned and polished with light wax. "Please, take a seat, my lord. Spiced wine is satisfactory?" she asked, pouring red wine into the cast iron pot and set it on the fire. She had set up a rack to keep the pot on and it worked beautifully. Isabella stared at the warming liquid and knew she had to add some of her precious spices. They were all that remained from her stash from Toronto. They had been expensive to trade for and she knew that her small pouches were all she could get; they were a far south plant she could hardly grow here. She pulled out the pouches from a hidden wall hole. A pinch of nutmeg and some cinnamon were pulled out and dropped them into the pot.
"How are your sons, my lord?" she asked, eyes carefully on the pot of wine. Once it had started to steam, she poured the man some wine, careful to keep the water from pouring too fast. She leaned beside him, nudging the clay work mug to the man. It was a fairly large one, fit for large canine hands. "I'm sorry I have no glass work but that is rather hard to come by." Isabella languisely set her curves opposite the man, on the cushioned chair. "You must have grand plans for your two sons. And for their mother, for her gift to you."
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