...And Then He Heard A Sound.

[Daniel Hartford]

“Sì, ci invia. Io guardo la mattina e ti dirà allora che cosa posso fare.”

He felt the urge to sigh, but held it in, swallowed it down and dug deep into his left overcoat pocket, making sure his keys were still there. As always, they were, but it paid to be certain and to never assume. Too many mistakes had come to too many people in such a way. It had caused many to fall. He would not be one of them. He passed the briefcase in his right hand to his left.

“Mi sarà di alcuna utilità se non dormo. Vi farò sapere se qualcosa si puòfare domani. Ci sentiamo poi. Buon giorno.”

With what looked like an act of finality, the dark-haired, impeccably dressed man tore the earpiece from his right ear and stuffed it into the right pocket of his overcoat before passing the briefcase back to his right hand. It was late enough that all other occupants of the building were in. It was a building full of hardworking professionals much like himself and all of them would be well settled in for the night. It was midnight. He had been awake since five. Five a.m. the day before and only now was he feeling himself starting to wear physically. It wasn't something he did often, being awake for so long – it started to take its toll in ways that meant mistakes could be made. Costly ones.

Daniel Thomas Hartford approached the main entrance to the building and reached for the door handle... when he heard a sound that gave him pause. A faint scuffle, barely blending in with the nearest sounds of traffic enough that a more careless person would not have noticed. However, only the darkness of deep, thick shadows greeted him when he turned. Only that and... something else. Something alive.

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

Freedom.

It had seemed such a tantalizing prize, dangling within her reach two hours ago. Waiting merely for her to seize the opportunity in trembling hands.

It had been simple, really. Her Master had left the house enraged, with business that needed his immediate attention. The staff was in complete disarray at the sudden change to His evening routine, rushing about to set things right before He returned home once more.

Easy enough for a slender girl to take a few things in a bag and slip out the front door unseen, wrapped in the shadows that came when she called them.

Maybe, she mused, she shouldn't have worn stilettos. But she was never allowed in anything else in His presence, that she hadn't thought to change after He'd left. She'd simply run. Out of the only home she'd known since arriving to this country almost eight years prior.

It wasn't long before she slowed, casting her eyes up at the sky and wishing she knew what the jumbles of letters on the signs at every corner said. But then again, reading wasn't a trait a lowly slave was ever taught. She was a decoration, a toy to be used and discarded at will, shared on a whim, and nothing more.

Finger rose to rub at tired, tear-filled eyes before smoothing cobalt tresses back from her face. Up ahead, a figured moved, nearly as silent as she. An overcoat and a briefcase was all that she could see from her perch on a bench. Something inexplicable drew her closer, tugged her across the street to the small courtyard of the building in which he stood, poised before its entrance. She watched him, drinking in the details of his appearance as he turned...and looked...at precisely where she was standing.

She froze, realizing that he'd heard her, and hoping that he couldn't see her. Fear stole through her senses and rendered her completely incapable of moving. Her shadows clung to her more tightly in response, rendering the area immediately surrounding her in a dense darkness that would likely look out of place to the trained observer.

[Daniel Hartford]

One smooth hand of his, the one grasping the angular doorhandle gingerly, now, slipped off of the cool metal as he turned to fully face the darkness. The silence of this hour could be deafening, it could ring in the ears in this area of the city, clean and proper, its atmosphere a dead one once the business day came to a close. The briefcase, ultimately unimportant, was set aside, against a wall of the alcove surrounding the entrance as the tall, dark haired man ventured away and into the night from whence he had only come mere minutes prior. The darkness could be rather inviting, in ways.

This is foolishness. He mused within... and yet, intrigued he did remain, as he sought to have the darkness release its secrets to his wanting. It was, in some fashion, much like a hound picking up the subtle notes of a scented trail. It was the scent of fear he picked up on, the emotion gauged a good ways to raw, he noted, as it rushed over his psychic sense.

The owner of it, as other pieces came to him, was not far off, it seemed.

The fear, though, gave him pause - for when what the last time that he encountered fear, unprovoked, from a living being of greater size and intelligence than that of an animal?

Fascination, interest, fear. Curiosity. He stepped further away from the door, stopped again and scrutinized the darkness with his eyes. An undependable sense, overall, in the face of illusion. This was not illusion, however. His brow furrowed until, suddenly, imperfection wrinkled the blanket of night before his merely human eyes.

"Come out, come out, there you are, I know. The darkness can only hide you from my eyes to a point, little mouse." He stood not three feet from where the mystery covered itself, now, and he could hear the breathing.

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

A faint sound, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp emerged from the heart of the shadows. Her breath caught in her throat, and her fingers curled tightly over the strap of her small bag.

Sasha dipped her head and released the shadows surrounding her, shuddering as her concealment melted away. A few tendrils writhed and clung to slender ankles, refusing to leave...a fact for which she was utterly grateful.

"Žao mi je..." she said softly, fear pulling her back to her Croatian roots.

"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to disturb you." Sasha managed to say with another deep breath and several awkwardly silent moments. One hand rose to fuss with a loose cobalt curl, pushing it back over her slender shoulder, before falling back to clutching at her creme-colored bag. The fabric was of the same color as her delicate dress, and the slender straps of her stiletto heels.

"I should go..."

She still hadn't looked up.

[Daniel Hartford]

The shadows melted off of her. It was a detail most difficult to ignore. One that piqued his interest greatly, yet also his wariness, by a very insignificant margin.

"No..."

Tenseness and fear rolled off her. He noted the language to which she initially fled, before English came to her. Croatian... he had little need to speak it in the years since he had last heard it around every corner. A curiosity, nothing more, that this little courtyard invader seemed a native of it. It would likely help to put her at ease, in any case.

"...ne, to nije potrebno."

Crouching down, he observed her more closely, from the lower level. Even with that, he still towered a little over her smaller form and submissive pose. There had to be a tale behind this behavior, certainly.

"It is alright to look. You have nothing to fear from me, little mouse."

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

It was hard.

Oh so hard to overcome years of conditioning reinforced by pain at every turn. And for something so simple - looking at someone when being spoken to. Normal for others, perhaps.

But anathema to one such as Sasha.

It took what felt like an eternity for her to look up and finally meet his gaze. It was warm, and his voice soft. Even as the words of her native language slipped past his lips. She blinked, one hand lifting with a slight tremor to wind amidst the end of her cobalt locks. It was all she could do to not shrink back from someone who was always an authority figure in her world.

"Mali miš...netko zove mi se da...kad sam bio jako mali." Sasha said softly, managing a faint smile, before remembering herself and repeating the same in lightly flavored English. "Little mouse...someone called me that...when I was very small."

[Daniel Hartford]

The small intimacy of being allowed a vagueness of one of the girl's memories pulled a fond little smile to his usually guarded face. He had memories, too, some like hers.

"Well, little mouse, you are looking rather bare and you must be cold. I would be most interested to hear how you came to me and why, if you would like to accept an invitation into my home. It is much warmer. Much safer."

Hartford extended a hand, open and palm up and he remained crouched, showing her no motion to bring her harm. He was well-versed in the many fashions of gaining trust.

"It is safe. Come."

Safe, in more ways than one.

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

As if to underscore his words, the girl's slender form trembled with incentive from a cold thread of air winding its way across her skin. Jewel-bright eyes still clouded with apprehension drank in the sight of his posture and his gently outstretched hand.

Sasha stretched out one hand, the motion slow and tentative. Tendrils of shadow flicked across his skin before her fingers did the same.

Warmth stole across her senses, reminding her just how cold it was out that evening. She truly hadn't thought her escape through very well.

"It is safe. Come."

She swallowed and lifted her eyes from their hands to meet his gaze. There was something there she couldn't quite place, but it settled her nerves the smallest bit. Her eyes dropped back to the shifting shadows at her feet as she sighed softly, finding a further measure of comfort therein.

[Daniel Hartford]

Daniel Hartford proceeded to stand again, pulling the colbalt-haired mousegirl to her feet along the way and steadying her with the other hand, which already held a briefcase. He then removed his hands from her and let her to stand freely.

He was fully aware of the dangers that would typically be involved in so freely inviting a stranger, even a frightened and innocent-seeming girl, right into his home. Even children had been sent against him in years past - their fates, he had tried and failed many times to put out of his memory. But this girl... he was certain that any risk would be well in hand.

He offered her his arm.

"Shall we?"

He did not, however, offer her his secrets.

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

The little mouse didn't dare speak a reply, simply nodding as she rested delicate fingertips upon the proffered arm. Her head was still properly tilted down, jewel-bright gaze watching the shifting shadows that clung to her feet. They pulsed gently, something that Sasha took a measure of comfort from.

Her shadows did not like her Master, and manifested only when she was alone in her basement room. That they remained now, in Daniel's presence, spoke volumes and soothed her fears a bit.

As he led the way inside, Sasha held her small bag close in her free hand while she dared a glance upwards.

[Daniel Hartford]

It wasn't a very long trip, from the front courtyard to the elevator, up to the top floor and only one door, very solid and holding the appearance of solid oak, stood between them and the entirety of his indoor domain. It was a door that was not part of the original design and was far more reinforced than the others in the building. The elevator originally opened right into the place, but after years of... well, it was a very healthy, small bit of paranoia.

Once in front of this door, Daniel looked at the blue-haired girl and smiled when he caught her not noticing he was looking, because instead, she was taking in their dimly lit surroundings. He curled his fingers around the ones she had on his arms and gently lifted them.

"A moment, please. This door has no conventional keys." He smiled almost apologetically for having to leave her standing alone, even for a minute, and went to the door, standing in front of it. His hand with the briefcase, the arm hung casually at his left side and with lifting his right hand to the door, he touched it in a way that was much like a caress. This was but one way he could open the door, but it sufficed to gain entry. The door slowly swung open.

He looked back at Sasha and gestured, wordlessly inviting her in.

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

A tiny, soft sigh emanated from Sasha as she blinked and looked around in the small foyer area. Dim lighting was soothing and comfortable to someone whom the shadows themselves had embraced. The pain of the bright light from the lobby and the elevator began to ebb, leaving her emerald gaze wide with wonder.

Pale skin flushed with warmth as he caught her direct gaze with his, and it was all she could do to not drop to her knees with her head bowed properly. Sasha swallowed hard and trembled instead, lowering her gaze before tiny steps eventually took her inside.

Her stilettos clicked softly along the floor, while her gaze watched the shadows ripple and whirl around her feet with each step. As Daniel closed the door, Sasha glanced up, tension written across her slender form. One hand freed from clutching her bag, she lifted it to gently pull aside her cobalt locks and rub at the back of her neck.

A large silver ring gleamed in the dim light, anchored deep into her tender flesh. Her fingertips brushed faintly across the raw, angry wounds surrounding it in a vain effort to soothe them. There will be worse when He finds me, she thought, fearfully tugging on a cobalt curl.

[Daniel Hartford]

He felt safer here. He hoped she would, too.

Daniel Hartford took a few moments to feel out for anything unusual before proceeding further into sizeable top-floor home. Everything checked out, as he witnessed her initial acceptance of where she was, the shadows congregating at her feet, one hand loosing from her bag to rub at the evident tension built up in her neck and shoulders. And a ring glinting in the bare level of light that dimmed to life upon entry.

His eyes became fat slits. He had seen such piercings before, would often pay them no mind, but the worry that wafted off of her at that exact moment would cause him to come back to that item… not now, but later. Stepping forward, he slipped off his shoes and set them neatly aside before coming to acquire her attention once again, pressing a hand with light pressure to her back.

“If you would like to remove your shoes…” He gestured to a seat in the hallway they presently occupied, some three feet from the front door. “…there is a seat. You don’t have to remove them if you don’t wish to, at this time. Otherwise, please make yourself at home in the livingroom – it isn’t hard to find – and I will go and put on some tea… unless you would appreciate something stronger?”

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

She blinked and sighed softly as the door closed behind them. It assuaged at least some small measure of her worry, but certainly not all of it. There were some things a locked door couldn't keep out, in her experience, her Master being one of them.

Sasha's train of thought derailed at Daniel's gentle touch to her back. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched her so lightly, and without any seeming intent to cause her pain. Emerald eyes blinked slowly but remained cast down as she lingered there, uncertain of what to do or say.

"Thank you." she replied eventually, moving in tiny measured steps to seat herself carefully on the chair.

"T-tea would be l-lovely. May...I..." confusion reigned across her features as she struggled for the proper English words. They didn't come and she dared a glance upward, meeting his gaze through her lashes. "...možda sam malo meda u njemu?"

Sasha lowered her gaze and with the utmost care, carefully unsnapped the straps of her shoes and slipped her feet out of them. A faint sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as her bare feet touched the floor. She set them neatly on the small mat beside her seat, and did the same with her small bag. Fingers gently twisted her cobalt locks up and secured them with a small clip before she rose and padded barefoot down the hallway to what she assumed was the living room.

If her Master's house had one, Sasha had certainly never seen it. This room, unlike any she had been in in her Master's home, was warm and comfortable. But what drew her forward was the large fireplace, heedless of the furnishings around her. There was a pile of pillows nearby, from which she chose a large one of deep, forest green velvet. Setting it near to the hearth as she dared, she knelt upon it with a faint murmur of comfort, hands clasped in her lap, eyes half closed as she absorbed the warmth of the fire.


-----

Google translate: "...may I have a little bit of honey in it?"

[Daniel Hartford]

The way she looked up at him, and struggled with her words, switching to her native tongue... well, it was something he found rather darling. The girl had a precious fragility to her ways, and he lingered watching her delicate fingers go to work on her shoes before moving away to fix the tea, the vague concern for the circumstances she came from that seeped into his conciousness not yet reaching his visage.

"Tea it is, then. And honey, yes." He replied, turning away to put together the soothing beverage in the kitchen, his thoughts, his mind ever conscious of the movements of this unfamiliar body that he had invited into his home. She was the only one, since he had made his life in this city. Not any of his employees, nor his business contacts, but a diminutive, soft-spoken girl that he had only just met. This was his sanctuary, and he felt the strange inkling that she would be at her safest within these walls.

There were reasons. There was that face carved deep into his psyche.

While set two cups and waited for the chamomile to steep, he turned and looked through the open space in his kitchen to where the livingroom was situated, to where the girl was, waiting like a porcelain figurine in front of the fireplace, and he wondered what the skittish little mouse held in her mind. Were he a lesser form of man, it would be so easy to look.

After some few minutes, Daniel went to add honey to her tea as asked, and with each cup on a saucer, he brought one in each hand to the livingroom, taking care to not startle her as the only way to approach was from behind. Gingerly, he set his cup and saucer on a nearby small table to the side of a deep red chair by the fire. Then, and only then, did crouch down beside her with her tea.

"Do you have a name?"

This was an unusual way of going about things. Normally, the names of guests were well in hand before one invited them into his home... but these were unusual circumstances.

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

The bright emerald of her eyes was soon lost as comfort won a reprieve from the fear that had gripped her for the last two hours. Eyes slid closed as the warmth stole across her pale skin, while absent fingertips smoothed out the delicate pleats of her dress. Her training had been viciously detailed, with pain ensuring that she always presented a pretty picture.

Everything from the drape of her hair to the tilt of her head was carefully calculated and scripted by Him. Well...in truth, the training had begun well before He had purchased her almost nine years ago. Hazy, pain-filled fragments of the years she spent in the orphanage still lingered in the deepest recesses of her memory. If it hadn't been for Oleg in those first few years, Sasha would not have survived.

What she wouldn't give to see him again.

The girl allowed herself a sigh as her hands folded into her lap and her head bowed forward. A whisper of pain coursed across her senses as the raw, abraded skin around the large silver ring at the back of her neck pulled tight. Sasha paid it no mind, choosing instead to open her eyes and allow a trace of pleasure to light her emerald gaze. A perfectly poured cup of warm tea, its aroma wafting up on delicate whorls of steam waited in the gentleman's hand.

Fingers trembled slightly as Sasha took the cup and saucer, a soft thank you falling from her lips. Uncertainly lingered in her tone, unaccustomed as she was with addressing those who had not been first placed above her and properly introduced. A sip of tea, the familiar taste of honey bringing a smile ever closer to her lips.

"My name was...is...Sasha." Another sip, and another still before she dared a question of her own.

"And your name?" she asked, glancing up for the briefest moment at him before concentrating on not spilling a drop of precious tea.

[Daniel Hartford]

The subtle changes in her features, from a whisper of sharp discomfort of pain to the pleasure provoked by the scent of tea teasing her senses, was a small thing but not one that escaped his notice. A vague positivity ghosted onto his face, softening the lines of focus from his careful observations away, the apparent years of structured control wavering in the trembling of her feminine hands as she received the cup and saucer from him. As she revelled in the scent and taste of the warm, honey-touched beverage, the faint thanks that whispered from her mouth caused a small, endearing feeling to rub against the back-end of his consciousness. He was curious over a great many things to do with this girl just barely half his age, but to have her name was a good place to start.

Sasha, his mind repeated, feeling the word out. That sounds... correct.

"I am Mister Hartford, Sasha." He replied, his eyes briefly catching on hers as she dared a glance, and following them down as they ran away again. His brow knit in the slightest, and his mind went back to the brief sight of the ring dug angrily into her flesh. There were many questions, but he would start by standing in silence and moving to seat himself in the chair by which he had left his tea, which was merely to one side of the girl called Sasha, and seating himself, thereafter taking his own cup and saucer into his hands and taking a slow, delicate sip from the cup. After a small moment of time, the cup returned to the saucer, he asked the next question in a soft voice.

"Why did I find you in my courtyard, Sasha, and what made you so certain I could be trusted?"

[Sasha Sains'Cyr]

There was something to be said for a flame-kissed room.

Shadows emerged and retreated as the flames flickered, reflected by the inset tiles of the surround and the surfaces around the large, comfortable room. It was the only source of light, save for what filtered in from the hallway and the kitchen beyond. Sasha was, for perhaps the first time in as long as she could remember, comfortable.

So much so that she briefly set down the tea and picked up a small black box. The top popped off with a tiny sound, the liquid within rippling. Delicate fingertips removed the thick emerald lenses from her eyes and dropped them in, resealing the container and setting it aside once more.

A sip of tea and a sigh, as his name threaded its way through her mind. Mister Hartford. A gentleman's introduction. One that those in her Master's circle of acquaintances never bother to proffer. Of course, they didn't need to. Sasha was bound to obey no matter what they called themselves.

Her voice, when it emerged, was soft and deferential - the words deliberate as she formed the sentences in careful English. "There was nothing planned for the evening. He hadn't summoned me for hours, and I had begun to think He would not do so. But then the phone call came, and He rushed out furious to attend to business. The house was in an uproar...and I couldn't bear to think what would happen when He returned. His anger...it...hurts."

Sasha's voice faltered, so she paused for a lingering sip of tea. It helped steady her, and she managed to continue after a few moments. "I ran when no one was looking. Right out the front door. I've never been outside, really. And...I...can't read. So...I just walked, until I found your courtyard. My shadows liked it, so I stayed...on the bench, where you found me."

It was the truth, unvarnished and unsteady as it was. Tendrils of darkness rose up in response, curling around her folded legs, as one slid up to settle comfortably around her wrist. "They don't like Him. But they like you...so I stayed."