Cora was found in her room, staring at her reflection in a full-length mirror. She wasn't primping, nor was she talking. In fact, she seemed to be staring at herself intently. As if she were trying to convince herself not to walk right out of the building. She'd taken fewer clients in the last couple days than she normally did, and she hadn't been seen loitering as much as she often did.

And it had been noticed. She didn't know this for a fact, but she suspected. When the Madame entered her room, she jerked around to set blue eyes upon the intruder. They widened almost imperceptibly. Cora was not fully clothed; she wore only her undergarments, but the set in the woman's face told her she didn't have the opportunity to correct that.

"The Master is here," the older woman said, and Cora could have sworn there was a smirk on her lips. Why wouldn't there be? Her eyes closed for a moment as if maybe the woman might go away. "Now."

A soft sigh left her lips and Cora turned away, walking barefoot in the Madame's wake as she was guided downstairs. Cora knew a bad mood when she saw one; she also knew when a mood was made worse--and in this instance, she knew it was made worse by her. She swallowed hard and then met his gaze with a haunted blue stare. She'd had more than her fair share of experiences in America; she'd seen plenty of punishments doled out, too.

No words left her mouth, for Cora was not a sniveling coward.