[[CW: Sex work bound to be mentioned, constantly.]]

Apparently, the new brothel owner hated redheads. She’d yet to meet the bastard – couldn’t even remember his name, God knew Sonia didn’t use it – but all the worst clients got funneled to her and any of the ladies who dared don a red wig at the wrong time.

“Your name still Ruby?” asked one of the girls, buffing her nails on her sleeve. “Stronzo –” as the ladies knew him “– wants a ‘bath drawn’” she air-quoted “for his sister at his residence.”

Oh! A sister of the owner! Exciting! … Did she like redheads?

Ruby wasted some time fretting with a wig before dressing up in blue in case that was the imagery her client was looking for.

Only for her, to her surprise, be led to the the washroom. She arched a brow, seeing the faucets she’d gotten used to at the Diamond Pony, and turned them without bothering to take off her gloves.

At least it wasn’t gross … so far. Did she just wait here?

Italian:

Stronzo = Asshole

Nesah had stipulated that when she came back from her shopping trip to town, she would need a bath in her room (that was, in whatever room she had confiscated in Zech’s home). So when she returned and there wasn’t the slightest hint of a bath being prepared – no bath tub, no buckets of hot water being carried up, not even a fire in the fireplace to keep her warm while she bathed! – her already sullen face turned sour. Either Zech had failed to tell the maid (not unthinkable), or that dim-witted girl was once again displaying her incompetence (likely, even). Really, Nesah couldn’t fathom why her brother kept the girl on. He was clearly dissatisfied with her; frustrated even; angry! Charity, was her best guess. Even assholes could be too kind for their own good.

She let out an irritated sigh as she pulled off her gloves and placed them on the bed. Then she sat down at the dressing table and looked into her own reflection in the mirror glass. She pushed a few loose strands of dark hair back into her hairdo. Her face looked pale and haggard. Around other people, she tried to smile and look happy after her oh so wonderful and exciting stay Paris. She even tried to be nicer than she had been before, just to show everyone how well she was doing. But she wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t eating properly. She was irritated all the time. And now this stupid girl, Ruth, could not even prepare her a warm bath to allow her to soak in her misery and self-pity.

Her thin lips nearly disappeared, so tightly did she press them when she though of the injustice of it! With renewed passion, Nesah got up and made her way downstairs. Her heels tapped on the tiled floor as she walked into the kitchen. Her eyes landed critically on the redheaded girl and she looked her up and down. That was no maid's dress Ruth was wearing. Complementing her income, was she? It didn't look bad on her, Nesah quietly thought in spite of her revulsion at the servant girl's vile ways. It really did a lot for her appearance. Had she grown thinner? Less sturdy anyway, less muscular. Less working woman. Prettier too than Nesah remembered. Her skin looked better. She looked more rested. Which probably had everything to do with not doing her job.

Zech really had let the house go derelict since he had those pink crying monsters to dote over. Ugh.

“What’s going on?” she demanded to know. The open question was not an open question at all. It was certainly not a question about Ruth’s health or wellbeing or what was keeping her occupied at the moment. It wasn’t an offer for the servant girl to explain why she hadn’t been able to start preparing the bath. It was rather a threat, daring that girl to tell her why she thought something else had been more important.