Lucy wasn't used to gallant behaviour, feigned or otherwise, and she blossomed beneath Alexander's gaze. Her green eyes began to sparkle with veritable delight. Was this then her prince, her saviour who would win her away from this dreary and empty existence? A small inner voice chided her naivety. Such men, the voice told her, did not exist but she could not resist harboring some small hope deep within her. While expected, she currently had no inkling that Alexander was using her, that he had even been in the same room with her a few times in the past.

Then he propositioned her and much of his luster faded. She didn't let it show, such disappointments were common in her trade, nearly perpetual.

Tittering and batting her long eyelashes she delivered her best smile. Having exhausted almost the entirety of her glossary of French words Lucy continued in the King's English. 

"My palace lay yonder my prince," she proclaimed with a vague gesture in the general direction of the small house, "Shall we away?"