The quiet hour

Sheriff's Estate - Upstairs

Reaching the top of the stairs, a short hallway bears four doors. One leads to the private quarter's of Erica, a spartan room with an ensuite bath and a reasonable office. Two of the others are merely guest bedrooms. The white, clinical theme continues throughout the house, the rooms all en suite with enough space for a double bed, a small desk area with computer terminal and a couple of comfortable chairs. The final door leads into a kitchen, with black and white slab gloss doors covering a variety of appliances and space. A bank of units across one wall contains various modern extravagances, including a coffee machine, wine cooler and oddly enough, what appears to be an ice dispenser.

About halfway through the night finds Susan back in her room upstairs, keeping to herself whenever she's able to. So far, little has changed from the day he broke her nose (and then some), the woman on her best behaviour, which translates to trying to keep out of everyone's way and avoiding argument where she can. The one thing that has changed -and which at least to the younger vampires is the joke of the day- is her outfit. As per request of the sheriff and executed by her whip, Susan Baker is dressed like a maid. From the 1400's. For Sue, that's just one more reason to sit in her room, tuned out. The door is ajar, there's no room for privacy under current management and anyone walking by can assume all of her focus is at the book in her lap. Only she hasn't turned a page in over an hour.

With his charge in her room, Clarence had stationed himself on the oposite side of the hall he view of that gap between the door and it's door frame. As he'd been present when that request had been made, but to see it having been put into action. Clarence can only stand, his face a mask of nothing, while humour flicks in his gaze, those brown orbs easily taking in the 'maid'. He'd watched as well as listened to the silence that was coming from his charge's room, as the still statue finally makes a movement, stepping across that hall, as he pushes open that door, stepping into the woman's room, without need for an invitation, "Must be quite the boring book…" He says, as he takes in the seated woman, his brown orbs still bright with humour at the sight of the outfit, "I'm sure I could always find you something to clean…"

Lifting her head, but turning it only so much, Susan doesn't answer to his taunt, making out the vague shape of him from the corner of her vision. As per form, a finger marks the word where she stopped reading. At some point. For all appareances calm, she's waiting for him to get to the point.

With his lips slowly turning up in a sly smile, Clarence is only slightly disappointed that his taunt did not invoke a response, yet at the same time impressed. "So have they finally be able to break you…" He taunts once more, "A simple outfit change is all it took." Bringing his hands up folding them across his chest, as he continues to watch the woman, taunting her, "Luckily they haven't decided to parade you around in that outfit, even though it does suit you."

Turning her head a little further, he can catch a glimpse of anger in those ice blue eyes, but instead of taking on his challenge -at least that he can see-, she returns her gaze to the pages in her lap and actually starts reading again. Maybe a change in outfit is all it took? Maybe she's decided to start showing patience again, recording every insult instead of repaying in kind at the very moment.

With a flick up of the corner of his lips, by being rewarded by that show of anger, Clarence stops his taunting, knowing full well that a caged animal sooner or later gets out, better not taunt too much, but not before he adds a final jab, "I think I once saw a dress like that in a museum once…" Swallowing down a chuckle, as he slowly paces around her room, for the first time actually seeing the inside of it, his eyes glance around quickly, before coming back to rest on the woman's lap. "So what are you reading?" He asks this time quite seriously, with no undertone other than mild curiousity.

Susan reaches for a noteblock and pen and quickly scribbles down a few words she then holds up for him to read, "Complaints go to the whip." As for the book in her lap, that she won't hold up, but should he dare a glance over her shoulder, he'll find it a thin volume on bonds and other ways to invest, just a simple stock market ground rules thing. Given her background, it could've come in the one weekend bag they brought her clothes in with.

Feeling his smile drop from his face, as he reads the words. "I'm not complaining, just stating a fact." His gaze flicking down to the book in her lap, then over her shoulder, taking in the name of the volume. "No wonder you stopped reading, that topic bores most people." Uncrossing his arms, he idly picks at his nails, looking down at his hands, "I didn't realise you had anything to invest anyway, I would have thought the Sheriff would have frozen and taken most of your assets…"

He probably misses most of the disdainful little smirk twisting Sue's lips. Maybe one day he'll learn that the Magister already saw to it that anything she still owned was distributed amongst her creditors. Not that she'll tell him and give him anything useful to taunt her with. Instead she places a finger again at the word where she stopped reading and judging from the set of her shoulders again waits for him to make a point. If he has any.

Glancing up from his hands, as the squared set shoulders bring a broader smile to his lips, Clarence once more turns his back on the woman, as he paces the small quarters that she has, glancing across to one that is not used often, as he turns around to face the woman, that smile having disappeared from his lips, as his face is still, only the glow of humour within his dark eyes tell that he is finding something funny, as he cares to share. "So how are you finding your new sleeping quarters?"

Apparently, not worth sharing with the likes of him. Her head lowers a little, a sure sign that she resumed reading.

Taking the hanging of the head as a sign that he'd hit a nerve, he asks in a soft whisper. "So not only are you broken, but also rude too…" As he quickly closes the gap between him and the seated female, as he quickly brings his hand up under the womans chin, forcing her to look up into his dark eyes, "Don't you answer questions anymore? Maybe I should tell the Whip, he'll make sure you always answer…"

Susan looks back hard with thinly veiled contempt in her eyes only. Slowly, if his hand allows, she opens her mouth to give him one of the reasons she's not answering him. But he'll find that she doesn't avoid his hand, or even try to wrestle out of it. Broken? Hardly. Waiting? Very much so.

With his firm grip on the womans jaw, he does allow for that mouth to slowly open, once more taking in that damaged tongue. Releasing that yet, Clarence returns the hard look not breaking eye contact with the woman. His face a blank, as slowly a his lips start to turn up into a smirk. "One doesn't need to talk to be able to answer a question, isn't that what your paper and pen is for?"

Susan tilts her head a little once released, blinking almost innocently. Reaching out, she does indeed take the pen and writes down one single word, large enough for him to read so she doesn't have to hold it under his nose. Peachy

Slowly nodding his head, Clarence steps back from his seated charge, as he expected her to say nothing less about sharing a rooms with the Whip, as his smirk is still on his lips, as quickly as he entered the room, he quickly exits, pulling the door slightly closed, leaving it ajar, having grown tired of the taunting and questioning, as he returns to his post. His arms folding across his chest, as his smirk too disappears turning into a still statue, guarding his charge, as he continues to watch through the door's opening.

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