***

A few minutes later, Oriana was still under sedation in the medical tent. Jo had asked Tara to wash the dirt off of Oriana, specifically near the open wounds and cuts. 

“You should be aware, Jo, she’s… got night terrors.  Bad ones. If she wakes suddenly and is disoriented you could be in danger.  Try not to be too close without a second set of hands there to help. I’ll take care of her washing.”

“Appreciate the heads up there. I’ll keep her under a little longer, get her stitched up while she’s knocked out. If you start there, I’ll get the bullet out of Renato.”

She nodded and went about the task of wetting a cloth with some warm water and a small bit of soap.  Approaching Ori she spoke to her softly before ever touching her, “If you put a knife to my throat again for trying to clean you, I might start to think that you mean something by it.” 

Renato spun himself on the other table so he was facing away from Tara and Oriana. Jo started working on his shoulder, cleaning the wound. 

Just to be safe, she made sure Ori didn’t have any weapons on her. After that, Tara began the task of gently washing away the dirt and debris from around her wounds and eventually just kept going - cleaning her face and hands, enjoying the task of attending to her and caring for her. As she worked, Tara was struck by a few things. She’d rarely had time to just look at Oriana, and the last few weeks were so frantic that she indulged herself in quiet observation. Oriana looked much younger, unconscious. With her face at peace, her eyes closed, lying motionless, Tara could almost imagine the girl at Vassar. In motion, Ori was angelic- or diabolic, depending on the context. Here, she just seemed like another young woman. As she washed Ori, Tara also noticed the lean muscle that dominated the other girl’s frame. Ori would never throw many knockout punches in her life, but she seemed to have a body that could run for days before it got tired- a perfectly built machine.

As Tara continued to clean Ori, she found more wounds, specifically three longer, jagged lines on her shoulder, like she’d been grabbed.

The four girls materialized behind Tara without making a sound. The older two seemed more like… 14? 15? The younger two seemed closer to 12. Maybe 11, for the youngest. Surprisingly, the youngest one spoke first. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Mhm.”  Tara indicated softly, not stopping in her care of the other girl.  “Do any of you have families… or are you orphans like Ori was?” She didn’t look back at the girls, just waited to see if any of them would reply. Four pairs of eyes dropped to the ground, giving Tara her answer.

“Then you’ll come with Ori and I.  If that’s what you want.” Tara wet her lips.  It was the sort of thing her father would have done, but she didn’t mind so much following in his footsteps.  Her dad usually had the right of things after all. “We’ll make sure you land on your feet, that you’re okay, and have something to do.  Something you want to be doing. You’ll never again have to do something you don’t want to do.”

She glanced back at them adding, “I promise.”

“Okay,” said the oldest one, reserving judgment. She pointed to herself, then the other three in descending order. “Cerise. Azure. Indigo. Sage. Let us know if you need anything.”

Tara bent down and kissed Ori’s brow and pushed some of her hair back behind her ear.  Tara looked back to the girls, “Thank you for being there for Ori. I’ll forever be indebted to each of you.”  She gave them a small smile and then looked back to her lover fondly.

“She helped us. We helped her. We’re even now.”

“Famiglia.”  Tara said softly.  “You’re her family.”

The younger girls seemed to nod slightly, but the older ones seemed more skeptical. Then the sound of a truck was heard outside, and the four girls managed to immediately produce eight weapons.

Tara smiled at the sight.  Oh, mom is going to love this shit…

“Tara!” Mario’s voice rang out across the river. 

“In here, Mario!”  Tara called back, covering Ori’s body up to her neck with a blanket.

Tara could hear cursing in Italian from outside, then a very wet Mario Luciano and Dr. Magnotti appeared. The doctor went to work immediately, jumping in to take the lead with Renato. Tara had never seen anyone look more relieved than Jo did when the doctor walked in. 

“Him first, just because you’ve got him here on the table. Then her.” He pointed to Oriana. “Then anyone else who’s hurt. Kids, get the fuck out of here. This is now an operating room.”

Tara smirked at the Doctor’s bedside manner but gave the girls a reassuring nod.  “He’s good. I brought him with me. She’ll be okay.”

Tara looked to Mario, “Per grazia di Dio viviamo per condividere quel drink, cugino.”

“Many of my men do not- and it seems like you have some casualties up here, as well. I’ll help your man out there start digging graves. We should be gone before nightfall.”

***

Ori snapped awake and immediately reached for a weapon. She found herself lacking guns, knives, and clothes. Immediately, an exhausted looking woman approached her with both hands in the air, saying “Tara’s outside.” Ori stared at her for a moment, then nodded. Shrugging the large blanket over her shoulders, she wrapped it around herself and made her way outside. Tara was next to a bunch of dead people. Three men she didn’t know… and Francesco...  Ori’s mouth dropped open, and she approached the body like most people approach a bomb. She wished she had clothes on. She disappeared back into the medical tent, mostly confident that Tara hadn’t seen her.

Tara kissed Crupi’s brow.  “Rest well, my dear friend.  Tell Nona Bella and Grandpa Gavin that I said hello.”  She hugged the man who was now wrapped in a sheet one final time before drawing it over his face.  There was something about the idea of him having dirt in his eyes that had bothered her. When she expressed it, Orlando had helped her seek out sheets for each of her team.

Standing she moved to Laurent and kissed him on his brow.  “I didn’t want to leave you here. I told you not to die here.  Fucking frenchmen.” She chuckled and kissed him again whispering,  “Thank you.”

Orlando stepped forward as Tara approached Armando’s body. “Riposa bene, fratello. Che Bacco ti conceda una gloriosa vita ultraterrena. Possa tu bere vino e scopare energicamente per l'eternità.”

Tara smiled up at Orlando and said, “I wish I had known him.  Did you know him well?”

“He was a good friend for many years. Fierce both in battle and in bed. We grew up together. Got into the business together. But we knew this would happen sooner or later. At least he died doing something worthwhile.”

Tara nodded and not knowing what else to do, gave a hug to Orlando.  “I’m sorry for your loss, I will remember his sacrifice forever and speak well of him to Bacchus when we return.”

Oriana had returned silently, dragging a finger along Tara’s back to let her know she was there. She was dressed in her old clothes, despite the dirt, and she was armed again. When it looked like Tara and Orlando were done speaking, Ori walked up to Francesco and began stabbing him in the chest repeatedly. 

Tara stood nearby, watching.  She did nothing to stop Oriana and simply made sure no one else thought to interrupt whatever the girl needed to do.  No one could really understand the relationship between her and this man, least of all Tara, but she knew enough to understand that some things were best left alone.  This was one of them.

At some point between the twenty-second and twenty-third stab, Tara realized that the four girls had materialized behind her again. Tara glanced at the girls, watching their reactions to their sister’s actions - prepared to step in if they moved to stop her.

Finally, Oriana stopped. Then she switched the knife to her other hand and stabbed Francesco’s body another twenty times. When she was done, she looked like she was in pain.

“He’s dead,” said Ori to the girls, dropping the knife on Francesco’s body and walking away. “Thanks to you,” she said to Tara as she walked by her.

“The, uh, sun is going down,” said Mario. “I would like to bring my wounded men home. Is there anything else you need to do here, Tara?”

She shook her head.  “Let’s get things loaded up and on our way… actually, is there any chance I could get a vehicle to come back in a little later.  I think maybe the girls have at least one more thing to do before we’re done here. Let me talk to Oriana.” She patted her hand on Mario’s shoulder in gratitude.

“Sure. We brought two trucks up. With your permission, I’ll take my people back and anyone the doctor thinks should be moved to Cefalu. We’ll leave another truck here for you.”

“Of course.  Go. We’ll be shortly behind you I’m sure.”

Ori glanced at Tara, curious. 

Tara walked over to Ori and put an arm around her waist.  “Let’s go talk. Alone.” She began to lead the other woman off away from the group just a ways, not far, but enough to be private.

“Thank you. For killing him. For finding me.” She blinked, slipping her hands naturally into her back pocket and wincing from the pain in her shoulder. “I didn’t expect to survive this, if I’m being honest with you.”

“It could have gone either way.”  Tara admitted. “I just tried to prepare for whatever way the chips fell.  Had a backup plan if I fucked things up, one way or another this was going to end, the only real question was whether or not you and I’d be standing together at the end to talk about it.”

“What was the backup plan?” asked Ori, still sounding vaguely haunted.

“Brigitte’s magic tits,”  Tara said with a smirk. “Ironically it turns out that she’s not only a social monster, and a badass gladiator, but apparently even senators are fell low by her bouncing baubles.  My father and the Italian government would have had the final say here… if we didn’t come back, but I’m glad we were able to handle this one. I can’t let Brigitte look like the only Mastrosimone with any talents.”

“You did well.”

“Killing his body was the easy part, you know that right?”  She said arching an eyebrow, stopping and looking at Oriana.

“Yea.”

“I thought maybe you might want to burn this place to the ground, you and your sisters.  Put a real and final end on the whole damn thing.”

Oriana shrugged. “He’s dead. That’s final enough for me. All this shit is just wood. You can burn it if you want to, though.”

Tara glanced at the girls, “Symbols have power.  Burying them can be helpful.”

“They can do it, then.” She turned back. “Hey! Burn all this shit!” All the girls smiled, and the eleven/twelve-year-old skipped off, presumably to find some gasoline.

“You’re a natural with pre-teen girls.”  Tara snickered.  

“... yea.”

“Hey,” said Tara. “ Don’t get too serious now.  There’s going to be so much time for dark thoughts, and regrets and anger.  Let’s just… let them get it out of their system a bit and then get out of here.  All I want to do is fly back to Naples and sink down into that damn tub up to my neck and drink until I can’t remember what any of this looks like.”

“I don’t have many other kind of thoughts, Tara. But yea, it’s fine. Why Naples? Thought you’d want to go home. Suppose you earned a party, though.”

“The big guy over there, and the one we buried like him… Bacchus sent me mercenary gifts.  Turns out I was right. He does spy on what’s said in the rooms. He just must not act on what he hears most of the time.  Wise of him honestly. Knowledge…” She paused. “Is power.”

“If I didn’t hurt my shoulder I would punch you right now.”

Tara opened her jacket and lifted her shirt, “Just not there.”

“Especially there. But we’ll save that for Naples.”

“Bitch.”  She smirked.

Oriana shrugged. And smirked back.

Chapter 15: In the Halls of Bacchus

Days had passed.  Recovering at Mario’s compound had been slow going and while she was eager to revisit Naples and eventually return home, especially after calling home and learning that her youngest sister had come unreasonably early, Tara forced herself to try and relax.  She’d made two more entries into her journal and had even begun to think of the Sicilian countryside as rather pretty when you ignored the whole of her family’s history there save one or two bright spots.

When they had boarded the plane to Naples, Tara found within herself new energy and so she broke into her bag and pulled out another of the dresses which her sister had spent far too much money on.  Taking the flight to prepare herself in her Great Aunt’s … no… her office, she knew by the time the plane landed she’d be perfect, even if she didn’t have the benefit of Brigitte’s help.  As she’d said many times, she knew what she didn’t know, but she was a good student and she remembered what colors her sister had chosen for her and how each had been applied and so she copied the work.  Twice she was forced to remove something and start again but by the end, she felt the look was striking and would be appealing to Oriana and anyone else who looked upon her.

Exiting the plane, she kept Ori’s long coat shut tight until the moment they had finally pulled up at the gates of the House of Pleasure.  Only once past the guards and the gate was closed behind her did she open the coat and pull it off, hanging over her arm. She took a long deep breath and the weight of the world on her shoulders eased ever so slightly.  This time, she wasn’t afraid to be taken to the 'God/King' in his castle and instead found herself an eager child longing to reunite with a beloved member of her family.

She beamed at the grand high hedonist and his many sycophants, her eyes showing all her gratitude for his intercession on their behalf.  Oh, she realized that perhaps it wasn't as personal as all that, maybe the man only loved love and lust that much, maybe in them he saw something of what he longed for in life or had lost once long ago?  Whatever his reasons, she would never forget that if not for his gift, one more of her team - or more - might not have walked away.

Tara’s voice was warm, clear, and loud - fearing nothing and having no shame, “Glory to Bacchus whose red face smiles warmly on all those who enter seeking only love and pleasure - woe to his enemies who know only his wrath and bitterness!  Speak now and tell us how we might show you our appreciation best!”

Stefano Tattaglia restrained from rubbing his hands together, but only just. “Tara Mastrosimone. First student. And Brigitte Mastrosimone. You are both most welcome- come, sit at my private table in the next room. I’d like to hear you tell me of your quest, before we can talk about appreciation. Some of your friends have already arrived.”

Standing, Tattaglia made his way into his private dining room. He was flanked, as always, by two guards with large guns. When Bacchus, Tara and her team reached the next room they saw the long, oval table already full of food: various succulent meats, fruits, and bread were on display and ready to be sampled. The servants surrounding the table also seemed eager to be sampled. Tara immediately felt Ori’s eyes on her, and her body temperature seemed to rise two degrees from the intensity of the look.

In the center of the table was a large, throne-like chair. Bacchus lowered himself into it with minimal ceremony, then gestured for Tara to sit at his right hand and Brigitte was already seated at his left. Ori, Jo, and Renato were seated across from them. Renato, wearing an open robe and shorts, had two barely-clothed women refilling his glass and attending to him, but he seemed more interested in talking to Jo, who’d chopped off most of her hair and was wearing a piece of green negligee. As Tara glanced at her, she had just finished leaning on one of her hands and smiling winningly at something Renato had said. 

Ori, wearing a small smile and a few napkins worth of royal purple fabric and string, just kept looking at Tara.

“Now tell me,” said Bacchus, “about what happened. You were on a quest for love and revenge…”

“Where should I begin, the beginning or from the point you last… heard me?”  She smirked giving a brief glance to Ori letting her eyes linger on the purple fabric imagining what was underneath.

“You should begin at the best part, naturally. And don’t think you need to be exhaustive. There’s much more for us to discuss this evening, of course.”

“Short, short version then.  Brigitte turned her attention to politics to help us.  Departed company with the group early on. I, as you know, traveled to Sicily and called upon my cousins for their aid which they gave and received the blessings of the Gods as well.”  she inclined her head to the God-King.

“I’d be offended, my dear,” said Bacchus, looking at Oriana. “I asked her to start with the best part and she picked up things after she’d left you. You have more work to be done, it seems.”

“So it would seem,” agreed Oriana with a twinkle in her eye.

Tara paused, blushing and looked down at the table.  Her illusion of bravado shattered. She wet her lips.

“Then again, she didn’t include her previous time with me, either.” Bacchus glared at her for a moment, then smiled. “It’s fine, Tara Matrosimone. Nothing a glass or four of wine can’t fix.” 

Immediately, Tara’s glass was full.

Tara picked up the glass and gave the host a small toast before sipping from it.  “I warned you that I was new to this sort of freedom. An innocent, but eager student, my master.”  She gave Bacchus a playful wink.

Bacchus returned the toast, sampling his own wine. “Innocent and eager are two of my favorite qualities. Why not start over? We’ll all drink enough to forget what you’ve said so far.”

“You’re far too gracious, I am blessed to be in such company.”  She drank again from the wine glass and this time much deeper, building up her confidence again.

Tara drew a breath.  Tara exhaled. Tara drew another breath and making a point to not look at Ori she spoke, “All my life I have found myself surrounded by the best of people.  I have been loved and cared for. I have had a good life. When my parents told me we were leaving home I was sure that everything good was about to end, a bird pushed from the nest out into the cold winds of new spring.”  

She wet her lips.  “I was lonely. Very, very alone.  I didn’t think I’d ever find my footing.  I honestly figured I’d have to run away from the world just to feel right in my own skin, to feel like I could breathe.  Most days… I hated myself for not being happy because I had no good reason not to be, expect… I wasn’t able to be who I am and in some ways, if you can not live, it’s the same as dying.”

She took another drink.  Her heart was racing, her palms sweating.  “I came here hoping to find my way back to the first person who made me feel like … like I could at least pretend to be a part of the world.  Oriana makes me feel stronger. Alive. Like I don’t want to die so much.” Her voice trailed off realzing Brigitte was hearing all of this, wishing her sister was anywhere but here.

“I thought this place would be like the last one we’d visited.  That there was a chance I’d barter my body for answers, and I’d gotten to this point that I didn’t care if I had to.  I’d given away the only possession I had that mattered to me and what was one more thing if it was the price you asked to find her?”  she shrugged and again the wine glass reached her lips.

Tara dared not look up.  “I lay down on the bed, not sure who or what you’d send to me.  The boy who brought me up was good looking. I told myself it wouldn’t be terrible to give myself to a man like that, surely you’d … schooled him in how to deal with someone as inexperienced as me and if he wasn’t well at least he wasn’t a gladiator from the arena we’d just come from.  Lord knows how rough he might have been with me and I … I wasn’t sure I was going to come away from that okay. This though, I figured, it would just be something I did.”

She forced a smile and looked then to Bacchus as uncomfortable as it made her to do so, “I should have known that my sister was right and that in a place called the House of Pleasure no unspeakable act I did not ask for would ever be forced upon me.  I’m sorry I did not understand better where I’d come to or who my host was. I beg your forgiveness for my ignorance.”

Bacchus nonchalantly waved forgiveness, much more interested in this story and wanting it to continue.

“I was instructed to get upon the bed and close my eyes.  I asked him who told me to do that, he said you.” she chuckled and looked down into her glass again.  “So, I obeyed. I folded my hands ontop of my chest and closed my eyes and I thought about Oriana. I imagined how she felt behind me, guiding my shots, the smell her, how her skin is … so… soft.”  she drank from her cup again this time finishing it and putting it back onto the table.

“So when I heard her voice it was as if I’d imagined her there.  I’d done it a dozen or more times since coming to Italy and starting my search.  I could call her up her voice in my mind without even trying. I thought for an instant that if I’d managed to supplant her over the body of this boy that well that maybe… it wouldn’t be so terrible after all.”  She laughed at herself, a nervous laughter.

Her laughter died and she said quietly, “All my life I’ve dreamed about that moment in one way or another - finding someone who fits you.  For years I tried to make people who I didn’t feel fit, fit. Men on the covers of romance novels, stories of … people I had never met and eventually boys and men from the village near where I grew up but nothing felt as right as the moment she said,”  The corner of her mouth turned up and touched her eyes, “Hello, Tiger.”

She shook her head slowly.  “She asked me not to scream, but god how I wanted to.”

“I seem to recall more than a couple,” added Bacchus.

“You’re getting ahead of me, shall I speed up to the best parts and the screaming?”  She looked up through her eyelashes at Bacchus and then let her eyes finally drift to Oriana; wondering the whole while what she must be thinking about Tara speaking this way.

“Remember this, student. The build up is everything. Continue at your own pace,” he said.

She remarked back towards her teacher, “Yes, Master.”  

Oriana seemed to be fighting with all her strength not to roll her eyes. Fortunately for everyone, she succeeded.

The blush in Tara’s cheeks turned twenty shades darker upon seeing Oriana’s reaction.  She wanted to stop now. Oriana thought she was silly. What good was going on if her lover thought her silly?  She shifted in her chair slightly. Ori seemed to notice the momentary comfort and winked reassuringly before flicking her glance over to the bearded, vested man to clarify her target.

Tara followed Oriana’s gaze, curious about what had amused her partner so much if not her own story.

“Excuse me, Bacchus,” said Oriana.

“You are excused. Barely. One should not interrupt a story like this,” said Bacchus, in a tone more appropriate for an Oxford lecture hall.

“I agree, Bacchus. These stories have such power. I’m afraid that your student here has such a… plentiful way with words, that I doubt I could restrain myself if I heard her retell everything that happened that night.”

“Then why restrain yourself? Perhaps we should have Tara Mastrosimone tell her story while you disappear under the table, and we’ll see what sort of job she does at masking her expression?” grinned their host.

Tara’s eyes went wide and every muscle in her body tensed but one.

“A wonderful idea,” said Oriana. “Except some lust is covetous. I don’t do well with sharing.” Bacchus looked like he was about to add a comment when Oriana amended her statement. “Not with other mortals, at least.”

Bacchus looked at Oriana for a while, then turned his gaze back to Tara. “Fine. Since your charming companion requests it so nicely, you may skip through the details of your evening, your slow explorations, your initial sharp intakes of breath, your surprised moans, your cries of pleasure and undulations and sweat. Skip all that, if you must. Proceed with the more mundane activities. Did you kill Francesco Bianchi? Did Armando die well?”

“I did.  And he did.  Though, I find it a shame that Oriana did not accept your challenge to test my oratory skills.  It would be nice to find her mouth full while I’m trying to speak for once. Perhaps then I could get through a story without her quipping wise at me.”  Tara gave Ori a playful wink.

Bacchus burst out in laughter. “And would you like her mouth full right now, Tara Mastrosimone?”

“I beg you release me to my lover’s tender ministrations.  We’ve long been apart and I would like to enjoy her company without rushing and the fear of death this time.”

“The fear of death is a powerful aphrodisiac. But… very well. You do owe me a favor, Tara Mastrosimone. We can discuss that later, though.”

“I am here whenever it suits you.”  She nodded respectfully.

“Then go enjoy your of inamicable amazon; she is fortunate that she has the favor of Bacchus. I don’t like interruptions.” He looked at Oriana harshly, at first, but as she returned his glare with one of his own he smiled.  

“You are a generous patron and mentor.  I assure you, that the waiting for me to return your kindness will only enhance it’s pleasure when we come to our terms.”

“And you two,” Bacchus pointed at Renato and Jo. “You’ve been making eyes at each other since you arrived. Go fuck. Vigorously.” He waved his arm, dismissing the two of them before turning to Brigitte.

Tara slid out of her seat and glance finally then to her sister who had heard her speaking so openly about her feelings, still worried about what she might find there when she met her eyes.

Brigitte, however, gave Tara a reassuring smile.

“What are you in the mood for, then? You’ve been quiet tonight, Brigitte Mastrosimone. Content to let your sister have a moment of triumph?”

“I’m in recovery, Bacchus,” said Brigitte, “though I thank you for the attention and concern. Tonight I will focus on simply feasting.” She paused. “And drinking.” Another pause. “A massage, at most.”

“Of course,” said Bacchus, resolving to send her his most muscular masseuse. “Very well. I’ll see each of you for dinner. Though some of you may see me earlier.’

Without another word Tara made her way down the table, snagging a small handful of grapes from a bowl as she passed by.  Popping a few into her mouth she came up alongside Oriana. “The guy with the beard? I didn’t know beards did it for you… ” she smirked.

Oriana stood, following at Tara’s heels like a well-trained attack dog. “I was amused by your deference. Didn’t seem like you. You were less deferential to me when I had a knife at your throat.”

“You weren’t playing a game.  Bacchus, he’s playing with me.  It would be rude not to play along considering he gave me a man’s life.  That and, maybe I aspire to be like some aspects of him in my own way… being his pupil isn’t such a bad gig.  A few days from now he’ll be half a world away but his friendship could mean a lot still. Sometimes, it’s powerful to submit.  You just need to find the right way to look at it. Rest assured, no man owns me.”

“Fair points.” Oriana ascended the carpeted stairs, trailing behind Tara and listening. “And do you prefer submission? Or being submitted to?”

“Bold question.  Not our normal type of conversation.  Is this special here, or is this new to us going forward?  I mean, I don’t mind being this blunt with you in private but something tells me back in New York… things might have to be a bit different than in the House of Pleasure, at least for now.”

“I haven’t thought about New York, really. Just figured I’d have fun here and see what happens back there, if I’m being honest with you. Also, you didn’t answer.”

Tara smiled, “It's a solid way to be.  Living life from moment to moment for a while might not be a bad idea all things considered.  Some of my very favorite people in all the world lived that way and it served them quite well.  The reason I didn’t answer is that I suppose it depends upon my mood. Most days I think I like to be a bit different than I am with everyone else, assertive?  But there was something… nice, about how I feel when you’re with me, like you usually are. Stronger. In control. I like knowing that you have a plan and just… letting you steer.  Maybe you’re different for me, in a good way.”

Oriana walked to the door of the room they’d shared before and leaned against the wall next to it. “I’m fine making things up as we go. Seemed to work last time.”

Tara touched Ori’s collar bone, her eyes drifting down her body, “I think you like being in control.  I think you don’t like being told what to do and I think I’m very good with that. You’re competitive and I like to resist you just to make you squirm… but let’s face it, I like it far better when you scream.”

“Well, let’s see about that..” Oriana swung the door open, revealing a man kneeling behind a woman on all fours on the bed. Tilting her head, Oriana closed the door. “... new room, I guess.”

Tara’s mouth hung open, sure Oriana had just brought her to some sort of situation which she was WHOLLY unprepared for.  She laughed nervously and then fell into a fit of giggles - her face flushed.  

“You’re opening the next door,” said Ori.

“You’d think this would be more like a hotel, get a room assigned after you pay… instead of, open the door and be surprised by what you find.  I mean… I guess it’s a great way to expand your horizons and make new friends but um… speaking from the perspective of someone who is new to all this…”  She laughed.

“Want to try another one? Or yell down to politely request a private room from your new patron?”

“I think he’d just assume my opening doors was part of my greater education and I fear he’s right.  If I’m going to open a brothel when I get back, I really need to desensitize to this shit.” She popped another grape into her mouth.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. There are rooms even I haven’t seen in this place. I’m pretty sure he’d help out his favorite student.”

“I’ll take my chances… how bad can the next room really be?”  She said walking a little further down the hallway. “You’d think they would have locked the door… unless?  You don’t suppose they were hoping to be walked in on?” She giggled again throwing another grape into her mouth.

“Lots of people just don’t care- at least the sort of people who come here. Normal people would care, of course. But ‘normal people’ isn’t exactly the crowd here...” said Ori, whose cheeks looked slightly pinker than they’d been a minute before. 

Tara nodded soberly, her giggles fading and her eyes growing thoughtful.  “I get that.”  

She kept walking down the hall, a bit quieter now, stopping at the next door.  Listening. “I don’t hear anything, do you?”

“... yep.”