His mocking expression of the mafioso's draws the sound of laughter from the depths of her belly to spill out across her lips and into the room for the Laughing_Man to hear. Celeste rises from the chair and begins to walk the area, hands moving to her back where they glide downward to relax at the base with fingers pointing downward. Her darkened eyes reside on him as the path of feet take her in a circle around him and for the first time since he has entered, the light of the room reaches within her gaze.

However, those eyes begin to flash when Jonathan tells her of his dreams of having a family, grandchildren. Lips part hastily and her tongue separates from the lower portion of her mouth as her voice almost sounds. His next words have those very same lines across her face closing just as rapidly... about leaving a story.

Yes, you want a wife. Go find one. Easy for a man like you. A story... heh, now that. That...

Celeste looks down as she purposefully scuffs a heel along the floor and licks her lips prior to biting on the lower one. Her mind races and she walks until she stands directly in front of this man. Hips drop down before his eyes until Celeste is upon her knees before him, rocking back to rest against her heels. Those depths of orbs behind dark lashes search his gaze so insistently. 

Would you believe me if I told you I crawled beneath barbwire as a babe to gain my freedom? With a knife in one hand and a spoon in the other.

Of course TLM wanted a wife. Who wouldn't want a significant other to spend the rest of their life with? However what he wanted, and what he needed were too different things. He needed a partner. Someone who could one day run his operations with him, side by side... equals. He knew plenty of mafiosos who went home to a warm meal after work, where a woman would give them the newspaper, kiss them on the forehead, and go back into the kitchen. Plenty of people were up for that traditional life. Not TLM though. He found that to be degrading in several ways. For him and whoever he spent his life with.

Was this woman special? Yes. Was she someone he could consider worth investing in? Only God knows, but she was worth knowing.

"Depends," TLM looks her over, looking for any cuts, bruises, old scars covered. "Did you actually crawl beneath barbwire with a knife and spoon?"

There is amusement gathering within her stare. Celeste crawls her fingertips up the smock until they reach the clasps that hold it shut and undoes each one with unhurried deliberation. Her shoulders roll as she removes one sleeve off them, one at a time. The protective layer of clothing lowers from her body until it falls from her hands to the floor. Her dress is worn around the neck and thus bares her back full. Celeste then places her hands onto The Laughing Man's knees to lean forward into him and between them.

See for yourself and know if it is truth?

With her face now moving so near, it pulls her shoulder blades closer together on her slender frame. Along the silken cream of her skin, he is able to tilt towards her and view the lines running full length down her back. There are four of them with two at each vertical where the crossing of the barbwire staples had gripped her. There are spots where one can tell she had paused beneath the fence, was it out of struggle? for stealth purposes? The flesh has been torn a little more in those places and the scars are more visible. It is not a vision of horror for the narrow lines have turned to a light purple by this age. However, it does give her words merit.

Celeste's fingers curl into the fabric of his pants as she feels his eyes upon her.

TLM looks over her scars. He could imagine her crawling, each catch of flesh being torn from her skin. The amount of pain she had suffered leaving it's mark on her body and mind. He was so focused on this that he didn't even notice her hand movements. He looked her dead in the eyes.

"No."

TLM slide out from her and stood looking at her before realizing he was lording. He bent a knee to get on her level. "I am not here for your flesh. If I wanted that I'd merely go upstairs and find someone else. All I want to do is talk."

The instant this man pulls away from her, Celeste's eyes close and she breaths out a sigh of relief. Those hands remain in the air where they had rested against his legs before finally flowing downward and to her sides. He has passed her one true test with flying colors and though she hates to do this, it was necessary. How many times have men come here and said they only wanted to talk? How often did they strike a conversation and then pull her to the bed? It is the reason for the man out in the hall and yet, Katharina has promised her protection and better company this time. 

"Thank you."

Two simple words holding the magnitude of her appreciation, even as he beholds her what she can only guess as judgement. When her eyelashes part to look and see him kneeling there, Celeste's face breaks out in a wide smile. She rises to regain her seat in front of the canvas and easel but not before she motions with her hands for him to get up and sit also. Physical contact is not made with the guesture.

"Please, tell me. What shall we talk about now? Anything you like. You seem like a man who likes to pick brains, either experiences or opinions."

Katharina walks out of her office with a glass in hand. A simple motion of her wrist sends the liquid inside into a swirl. The aroma lifts to fill her senses and keep her awake at this late hour. There are still four clients in the house upstairs and it has her on edge. She's told her girls to ensure they get out before sunlight. Protection takes many precautions and keeping them safe required maintaining the reputations of the men who visited as well as ensuring they remained under the radar from the feds. The cops in town were bought and paid for, thanks to the charms of her girls. Hell, even the chief came by just Wednesday.

Susan has already retired, Kat notices as she takes drink from the glass she holds. The strong drink burns along her tongue and down her throat to aid in calming her irritation. Not enough, however as the toes of one of her heels begins to tap along the floor tiles within the grand entryway. There are no clocks in here, something she's done on purpose. Why make a client nervous with the ticking? the reminder of someone waiting at home perhaps? of a late hour and of work on the morrow? Time... such a fickle creature. One, that was starting to wear on her damn nerves.

Kat downs the rest of the aged Irish whiskey and turns the empty glass within her fingers before turning to a table beside the wide staircase leading up to the upper floors. There are only two items upon it: a cloth coaster and a bell. Taking the bell's handle within slender fingers and a firm grasp, Kat twiddles it back and forth until the sound of its high pitch rises upstairs. Within a few moments, the sounds of muffled laughter and motion get heard. This makes her smile, the kind any boss makes when their people move and work according to the way they are supposed to. She realizes they are going to need another talking to...

Several Hours Later. around 11 am.

Out back and under the eves of the trees, all the girls stood looking blurry eyed and yawning. Some are stretching while a few smoked their cigs. They have been told to wait out in the yard for their madam and so far she hasn't showed. All they know is there are a few tables in front of them and some of the security men standing around with guns. Sheets covered these tables and a few of the curious girls moved towards them. That's when the men got a little squirrely and motioned for them to back away. Something is under there but what?

Katharina looks out the window of her personal parlor. It oversees the back yard and she watches the girls moving about like lost sheep in their half tired state. Shaking her head back and forth, she wonders what in the world she's doing with these girls. Yes, she's taken them off the streets and out of the clubs but to what? She's made a promise to them and by the gods, she was going to keep it. Taking a slow, deep breath, Kat looks down at the object in hand. It was a riding crop, her first she's ever owned. It held many memories and none of them for pleasure. So much people assumed...

Walking out towards the girls, Kat listens as she approaches to the conversations they are having. Most of it had to do with some of the clients or of shopping they planned to do after the meeting. At least they are dedicated, she tells herself. Perhaps they will be even more once this meeting comes to a close. The conversations turn to whispers and then die down once they see her moving through them towards the tables. They'd never seen her like this before, in this attire... close fitting men's pants, boots more for the military than for civilians, long sleeved shirt that showed no cleavage and a vest that had so many pockets. Kat holds the crop down to her side and she runs it along the sheet of one of the tables to draw their attention.

"Good morning, ladies."

Katharina waits for them to reply the greeting before continuing, looking at them and ensuring they meet her direct eye contact. She could see some apprehension, some boredom, but mostly curiosity.

"I said... good morning, ladies!"

This time all of them resounded with louder voices and created their reward in the form of her smile and a nod of approval. She has their attention now.

"You are all wondering why I woke you up early and dragged your pert, pretty asses out here? Good. I've been noticing that some of you are taking advantage of our situation... our arrangement. The rules I've laid out, ladies are your laws to abide by. Why are these in place? Can anyone tell me."

Kat paces in front of the tables while lightly striking the tip of the crop into the opposite palm. She points it to a girl who raises her hand and smiles when she hears the answer, "Our protection."

"Yes. But its also for theirs. Now, I made a promise to you from day one and while I can hire as many men to guard the house inside and out, I can bribe people left and right, hell I can even take care of the ones who abuse our generosity! However, I cannot be the one to protect you inside your own rooms."

It is then that Katharina takes her crop and hooks it under the edge of a sheet. Lifting it up, she pulls it forward and across the length of the table to reveal the display of many small ladies hand weapons. Dirk, finger, knuckle daggers... thin stiletto blades, finger pistols, pocket pistols, brass knuckles, scandalous looking batons made out of metal, sets of round metal balls in open cases, containers of powder, etc.

"These are the obvious weapons that can be used in dire straights. However, I want to point something out that is VERY important. Should you ever choose to use these (and I teach you how), they can ALSO be used against you. Men are stronger than we are, but we can be smarter. Faster. They won't know its there and that, my friends... is to your advantage."

This is just the beginning of their training, the introduction of their knew life in her world when dealing with those connected. Kat moves to explain each and every piece except for the set of timer balls. Those, she simply closes the lid and leaves for later. The other table reveals all sorts of bedroom play items with restraints and toys of their generation. One of the girls comes up to the container of feathers and passes them out among the rest and this merely gets a smile out of Kat. She's chosen these women well, it seems. 

"Listen up! Here is your new schedule. You will wake at 10. Train until 3. You are free do do as you please until 6. Then, you work for me. Is this clear?"

They have digressed with playing with the damn feathers with themselves and with each other. Their laughter told her they were happy but also told her they might not... Kat reaches down and picks up a pocket pistol to point into the air and lets off a round. Every single one of those girls jumps and turns to look at her with widened eyes. Katharina merely smiles sweetly and in her calm, collected manner...

"I asked, is this clear?"

An odd thing happened that night. TLM, while lost in thought simply walked out of the Kat House. Why he did this, he didn't know but once again he made his way back to it. Celeste's words still rung in his ear and he was as curious as ever to find this woman once again. He found the Kat House and stood outside the great doors going over in his head what he would say to explain his sudden disappearance. He reached out to knock but quickly pulled his fist away. 

What made this woman have such a strange effect on him? Perhaps this was the emotions he had heard so many speak of. But what emotion? Lust? No. He had no care for such things. He did enjoy their conversation, and she was quite stunning, but it seemed to be more than that. A connection...

Standing outside of the Kat House, TLM felt a few drops of rain begin to splatter on his shoulder. Looking up he could see rain clouds and the day began to darken. Once more he attempted to knock but this time he went through with it. 

*Knock Knock*