There was some sounds that permeated closed doors without fail. Certain customers who could not keep the sound of their satisfaction inside, and certain girls who specialised in raising their voices as their clientele rode them. Aignéis had been working in the brothel for so long that she could identify most of them within a matter of seconds, and she named four of them in her mind as she took the stairs from her fine room on the top floor down to the entrance with the door that led out onto King's and Wallace where the denizens of the Blight swarmed on a daily basis.

It was getting easier and easier for Aignéis to hide her disgust when she saw it.

The usual girl was beside the door, a tall fair kind of person, she bore sharply colourful tattoos on her face and her breasts and wore onto a skirt when the weather was fine. When Aignéis arrived she found her lying back on the table where they kept the ledgers with her legs spread open for a grubby human male who had his mouth pressed against the inside of her thigh.

“Make sure that he pays before he leaves, Myla,” said Aignéis with the sigh that she gave every time she found the girl in such a position. “Are there any messages for me?”

Myla shifted a little for the customer, and leaned over to where a small envelope was sitting on the end of the table. She tossed it up into the air and Aignéis caught it easily, the weight of it driving the sharp corner into the palm of her hand. It would have bothered her if she had been softer and warmer, but soft and warm were two words that had never been used to describe Aignéis and it was likely that they never would.

She tore the corner of the envelope with sharp teeth, and spat the paper onto the ground, pushing Myla's foot out of the way with her free hand. It only took her a moment to read the contents, as they were short and succinct, then she tossed it into the closest fire and untangled her cloak from the hook by the door. Such an item of clothing was unnecessary inside the house, and it was not completely adept at keeping her warm, but it covered her chest and shoulders enough to make her presentable.

“Fallon!” she called. Raising her voice so that it would carry through the first two floors of the brothel clearly and theoretically catch the girl easily. “Come here, I need you.”

“Did I hear that you were scolding Isi for her wicked hands?” Myla asked through gasps, as though she did not have a customer with their face between her legs. The tip of her tongue was hanging out of the corner of her mouth, taking nothing away from the leering grin that she seemed to be so fond of wearing. “I think that she should be applauded.”

“And that is why I am in charge and you are not,” said Aignéis as Fallon came into view. “Oh good, you're here. You and I need to take a trip to see Granny.”

“You should take Isi,” said Myla.

“Isi has a customer,” said Aignéis. “And so do you. Make sure that he pays.”

Myla raised a hand to acknowledge the order, and then slid off the table, dragging the man into one of the first floor rooms by gripping the front of his shirt with her hand. By the time the door had slammed behind them Aignéis had given them both what would be her final thought on the matter for the day. Myla had been in the business for long enough that she knew what she was doing.

So instead, Aignéis turned her attention to the girl that she had so recently called to her side, and she crooked a finger to indicate that Fallon follow her out the door so that they could walk the path to visit Granny at the Boggart's Hole.