The afternoon has gone gold and lazy by the time they finally make it back down to the front steps, sunlight slanting long through the brothel's curtained windows, the whole street outside smelling faintly of woodsmoke and someone's dinner starting early a few doors down.
Lucien stands at the door of the pleasure house, arms crossed, pouting hard, as a small cluster of the girls crowd around Serenith on the front steps, each one taking turns hugging her, begging her to come back and visit whenever Lucien stresses her out too badly, which, several of them note, glancing his way, seems likely to be often.
Serenith accepts it all with genuine warmth, tucking the flower carefully behind one ear.
"This has honestly been the best day I've had since I was first tasked with looking after him," she tells them, glancing briefly, meaningfully, toward Lucien. "I'll put in a good word with the higher-ups for each of you, personally. You've all earned it."
