Miria swallowed, a large lump forming in her constricting throat. Her eyes sprang from a figure a small distance behind her and back to the smiling man. If she had words to speak, they would only be of warning. But he was ignorant of that.

He looked her up and down. "You look quite lovely today. I see that you've put your hair into a bun into a ponytail today. My, it makes the difference. It compliments your face wholly different."

Her eyes went wide and momentarily, she flushed pink. But only for a moment, as her eyes cut behind her from Erin and back to Ezra.

With a heaving sigh, she stepped fully out and gently pulled Erin's door closed.

"Oh, and I meant to tell you thank you for getting me a favor with the laundry maid girls. I know it was you," Ezra said. "It seemed strange that I every morning I woke up, I'd find my shirts dyed all strange colors from all strange sources by some unknown suspects. It was really quite getting annoying." He smiled. "Anyways, as usual, we'll speak later. You must pardon me, I must see to Lady Erina."

As soon as he moved, she moved.

"Miria?" He cocked his brow.

Silently, she communicated to Ezra with pinched brows and a dreadful stare.

He processed her with a slight tilt to his head before smiling.

"We'll speak later, Miria." With one hand, he gently took her by the shoulder and eased her out of his way. "Do me a favor, and stay lovely!" He waved her off and knocked on the doors.

"Now, I know you shouldn't be back so soon so Miria! You may be mute but you are not dumb and you have worked here long enough to know that I don't want to see your face unless you've got what I've asked for!" she shrieked from beyond the doors.

"Lady Erina, it is not Miria. It's me, Ezra, the manor's butler?"

There was a few moments of silence. Then huffing, then muttering, then stomping, and finally, the door.

SWIP!

"Do you take me for a fool?" she spat. She stood in the doorway, copper faced, hair fuzzy, eyes narrowed, and halfway dressed.

His smile shrunk a little as he looked down and then swiftly up. "No, of course not. I was simply afraid you wouldn't know considering you appear to be...hysterically distressed."

"Hysterically distressed...?" Her eyes went wide. It always got how he ignored all proper social customs and instead paraded around pretending to know them.

"Yes." He glanced to the empty halls where Miria had long gone. He turned his sight back to her, eyes sticking to her face. "Shall I help you fix your dress?"

"Excuse me?" The longer in his presence she was simmering.

He briefly looked down and then up again. "Your dress is backward. Very backward."

She followed his gaze. He was right. It was backward. The lowcut of the back of the dress was now low cut along her bustline. A bustline that never felt so exposed until now.

"Shall I---."

--SLAM!

She slammed the door hard his face and took a few moments to gather herself. Completely gather herself.

CLICK!

She reappeared, dress on properly, hair and accessories neat, and with a heavy stoic grimace.

"What do you want? Can it not be any clearer that the sight of you displeases me?"

"Yes, I admit things got of hand last we spoke like this." He lowered his eyes. "And honestly, it is not right of a gentleman to scare girls."

"Scare? Girl? You are so clearly mistaken." She folded her arms over chest. "I am neither a girl nor intimated. Besides, how could a man of such soft and effeminate features scare me? It is too easy to mistake you for one of my female attendants."

He smiled. "You compliment me too frequently. I didn't know I had such a calming soft countenance." He paused to quickly inhale. "I was under the impression that you have been avoiding me due to discomfort and fea---."

"--Repulsion," she emphasized. "Repulsion."

With a smirk, he bounced his eyes from the halls and to her. "May I come in?"

"What do you want?"

"Well? For one, we are having a private conversation concerning something hundreds of rumors are circulating about. Some silly, some crude, but all of them untrue, and I suspect that chatting here any longer might make it."

Considering his words, she darted her eyes around with a scowl.

"And secondly?" he said. "I am a servant to your family, and being that you are the current defacto Sutherton present, I must request to you."

"About what?"

"Concerning this---." He stopped to lift up a handheld metal box cage he had been holding. "—and you."

"A box? What's in there?" She peered at the small circular opening in the box. But it was too dark for her to make out anything inside of it.

"May I come in so that we may speak on this?" He asked again but she still hadn't budged.

Rather she stayed there with her arms over chest, pondering; she considered his behavior and his madness, yet she had not a single bone capable of bending.

With a huff, she allowed him in.

"What do you want and what's in the box?" She shut the door behind him.

He casually strolled in towards the center of the room. "It's---oh my, that can't be what I think it is." He drew a long sniff.

Confusion tapered her brow. "What are you doing?"

"That lovely smell...." He walked further into the room, ignoring her.

"Excuse me---?" She stopped. Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered questioning anything. Everything he did was clearly to aggregate her. "Mister Edward." She placed her hands on her hips watching as he happily circled the lunch table.

Click.

He sat the metal box down. "Lemon tarts. I knew it." He stared at the desert tray where perfectly cut yellow powdered cubes sat among a row of other cakes and biscuits.

Did he not hear her? She narrowed her eyes. It was like driving metal wedges under her skin. "Mister Edward!" she barked.

"Yes, Lady Eric—Erin?" he corrected, giving her a muted smile.

"You---!" She gritted her teeth. That was enough to make her start cooking red. "...argh." For a second, her hands moved in frustration. She raised them and then pointed to him before she clutched them together into balled fists.

Quietly muttering and grumbling she whipped her head away and stormed off into the bathing room.

As she disappeared looking ready to smash something, he turned his focus back to admiring the mouth-watering scent of deserts and food. The colorful and fruity delights were tempting as they were belly rumbling.

He had considered how long had it been since his mouth delighted from such luxuries. Long. But perhaps not long enough.

Ssssssh!

He looked away from the desserts and to the metal box. Something inside it had shifted and now it was moving and slithering.

He looked down at the creature with a slow growing smirk.

Squelch!

Something wet and slobbery hit his neck.

"You know what that is?" Erin questioned.

He grabbed at his neck and took a chunk of something grey, slimy, and wet into his hands. "Paper sod?" He asked as he turned to face her.

Her nostrils were flared and she kept a good distance from him. "That's the letter you gave me from my parents."

He rubbed off the excess paper pulp from his neck. "Yes, I do remember. Am I expected to have amnesia?"

"Tell me Ezra, do you know what the contents of that letter are?"

"No, I do not," he said as he flicked the soggy paper bits to the floor.

"Are you sure because I think you're walking around here like you know something I don't!" she spat, barely resisting a shout.

"I do not." He smiled.

"Really?" She slanted her head, peering him as if he owned two heads and 4 arms. "Then pray do tell me why you are already acting as if you have authority over me?"

"I am not sure what you mean."

"You know exactly what I mean!"

He kept his head leveled to hers.

All the other servants in her household kept their eyes and heads down. But he? He knew exactly what it meant to hold her gaze and remain straight postured and poised. This was not a simple matter of offending her, he needed to challenge her.

"I will not have my authority challenged in my own home," she seethed. "I cannot!"

"Forgive me, I am lost and I do not follow. I have the role of a butler, and therefore, I could never, absolutely never, challenge your authority. To suggest that I can would imply that we are some form of equal footing, would it not?"

"Do you think I am some cat chasing a rat? I will not humor this game any further. This needs to end and you will not---!"

"--Yes, m'lady. I agree," he cut her off. "You have put sour milk in my shoes. Goat pee on my clothes. Rocks and pebbles in my bed. Hide and seek with my things, and what have I done? Spoiled your tea time? Soiled your mood?" He approached her slowly, but she remained rooted in place.

There was a dryness starting in mouth. "You have done more than that."

"Really?" He stood square with her. "What else have I done?"

"You---!"

He cut her off again. "--Or maybe, the question is what else should I do?"

"I--you...." Stumped. She hated the fact that she was finding it common to fall stumped numb in his presence.

"So yes, Lady Erina, your conclusions are correct. This needs to end. Before things get dirty. Do you agree?"

She measured him from head to toe. With a sour scrunched up lip look, she realized she agreed with him. Something had to end, the question was how was going to?

Ssssh!

A low quiet hiss gathered both of their attention to the floors.

"Ah." A little quiet shock of recognition hit her.

The snakes. She forgot about the snakes.

There was a fat, chunky slithering striped black and yellow fellow moving about their feet. It was closet to hers though. In fact, its head was already setting around her foot, the wagging of its missing Ezra's. Of course, he was wearing his indoor shoes and she was wearing her lightweights.

"Oh, by the way, I meant to tell you something," Ezra said with a smile. "We happen to have a snake problem in the house. When I woke this morning, I found a few of them entangled around me while I laid in bed. Although...I suspect you know that already."

She tensed. It was already attempting to coil up and around her leg. "Ezra," she lowly hissed.

"Lady Erina." He batted his eyes.

Automatically, she sharply inhaled her blood pressure skyrocketing and chest throbbing. The creature was crawling while she maintained a rigid stand. "How...how many are in the box?"

"I don't know."

Ssssh!

She dug her nails in her palms. "Ezra." She breathed slow and in anticipation.

"What? It's not as if those are poisonous, right, my lady?"

Ssssh!

She looked down once at the creature now hissing around her knees, and then to him. "Ezra."

As if he understood exactly what she wanted to say, he curtly replied, "No." Without another word he turned his back to her and made his way to the doors.

"Madness to it all!" She roared like a fiery beast, and yet winced like a cat drinking vinegar. "Ezra don't you dare---!"

"--Lady Erina." He stopped short at the door. "I must implore you not to mistake my service as obedience. While I am currently acting as your family's servant, this only means that I will do everything in my power to act the role. If you shall attempt to make my job hard? Well? Let's not do if."

BAM!

He slammed the doors shut behind him.