She needed to get away from the Diamond Pony for a time... It was all about her having to ply her wares and sometimes she got more attention than she wanted. The money was great, that wasn't a lie, but it did her some good to take a break and let the less sought after have a chance at being paid. Her position was secure in the brothel, she was a popular choice among the gentry and made for a lovely arm piece at parties, though she found some of the tasks to be harder to bear than others. She shuddered when she remembered the old man who wanted to have all of his friends take turns with her but never planned on paying her for that.

Sonia stood with her shawl wrapped about her shoulders to ward off the chill in the air, the waves crashing against the rocky beach. She thought about Lorenzo, her dead guardian, and a tear dribbled down her cheek as a result. The girl angrily swiped it away, annoyed by the saline interruption, for the chill caught the moisture and made her shudder. All she really wanted was to know what happened to him, who murdered the only person who ever truly cared for her. Instead, she had nothing to go by other than how she found him and where.

For now, all she could do was stand there and stare off into the moonlight.

When night falls, thieves and blackguards and scoundrels of all kinds come out onto the streets. It was as such, then, that Anthony had also taken to the streets for the night. Though, this time was a bit different as usual as he did not have any true goals or expectations for this night. Whereas he usually would have gone out with the goal of relieving at least one person of their material possessions, he did not do so today. Sure, if an opportunity would present itself, he would seize it by the neck, but right now he was fine with just taking a walk and enjoying the relative quiet of it all. Hands in his pockets, he walked with an absent mind, a prime target for any criminals that were out here. Whether fortunately or unfortunately, he managed to make it towards the beach in one piece and with all his money still on him.

He would be lying if he had said that he did not feel comforted by the sound of the waves and the sight of the moonlight on the water. Despite being frightened of the sea and ever being on it, he respected it. What a silly thing. To respect a thing that isn't even alive or that will ever recognize that respect. Shaking his head subtly, he pushed those melancholic thoughts away. Lamenting over the sea like all the poets is not something he came here to do. But neither was seeing a woman standing on the beach, staring off into the sea, and yet he saw her. For a brief moment he considered the possibility of it being a ghost or a trick of the mind. A girl standing near the sea, staring into it and weeping? How cliché.

Perhaps it was foolish, then, for him to slowly approach the woman. He knew it was a person, of course, and him thinking otherwise was just a brief yet foolish consideration. Though he kept his distance, he eventually stood fairly close to the woman—close enough so that they could theoretically converse without needing to shout at each other.

"Not wise to be out here late at night, miss," he broke the silence.

"I know but I welcome it," she said tiredly before turning to the man who had come up on her. She wasn't particularly frightened, but then, she grew up with a thug for a guardian and he had taught her to defend herself quite effectively. There was a knife hidden in her boot for such an occasion as someone making her feel threatened. She peered through the moonlight at him for a moment, then turned back to the sea. "I doubt anyone who knew who I am would try to do anything, knowing my master is not a man who would appreciate the maiming of one of his best courtesans. Even then, perhaps it wouldn't be bad to die. Not that I wish it upon myself, but the thought doesn't scare me either." She had a thick accent that sounded Italian.

Her reply was the thing that scared him. Anthony had been afraid of death for as long as he had been living, and seeing this woman entertain the idea of dying so...nonchalantly was something he didn't expect, nor was it something he particularly enjoyed. It almost added to the athmosphere of the whole situation. A woman standing on the beach in the dead of night, peering into the sea, talking of how she does not fear death. The poets and writers would have a field day with this.

"Well, I don't know who you are," he shrugged, slowly approaching the woman even more, looking at her and then at the sea. Despite that, he had no interest in hurting her or anything along those lines, unless she would give him a reason to do so. "if you're not afraid of dying, you're not afraid of dying. Was just a bit concerned—wouldn't want to hear of you getting killed or something."

The Amnesiac looked at the man again, looking weary at the moment. "And you care?" Her answer was not asked in surprise, but skepticism. "Not many care and those that do care is because of what I can do for them... with the exception of one, I think." She gave a half smile, not hostile, nor did she sound particularly depressed. There was a noble bearing about her, she had the look of one who should have lived a life of privilege, even in the moonlight. "But then again, I do not know of those who might care besides who I do know of. Such is life for someone who doesn't know who she is." She gave a shrug and then moved to sit down on a boulder. "I wonder at times but it's becoming clear that I may never find the answers I seek."

Indeed, she had been thinking quite a bit... and saving money up to grease palms for information of her past. She did not remember her family... not her birth family anyways. She'd always remember Lorenzo, the man who called himself a eunuch and protected her with everything that was in him. He'd been a constant until about a year prior when someone had murdered him soundly in the Venetian Ghetto. She would never forget the way she had found him outside of the building they'd called home, a ramshackle. But life before him? She couldn't remember for the life of her.

Anthony looked up at the woman—who, rather irritatingly, seemed to be almost a head taller than him—with a blank look on his face, laughing awkwardly a little after her reply. "Well....I don't want to see good people die," he responded, looking away from the woman, back into the sea. Whether this person was good or not was something yet to be seen, but it was true that he didn't like seeing or hearing of people dying. The more he listened to the woman speak, the more he started feeling confused. He had always been used to him and those in his social circles being straightforward and blunt, with little discussions of philosophy or speaking in ways that almost sound poetic.

Turning his head slightly to look where the woman had gone, he turned back to the sea after being certain that she had not left. Anthony furrowed his brow. Everyone knows who they are, do they not? He has never had to deal with or known anyone who had to deal with not knowing who they are, and looking for answers to the question of 'who am I?'. Maybe he was looking too much into the woman's speech, maybe it was simple and easy to understand and he's just making it hard for himself. "What are the answers you seek, then?"

"There are many questions," she said while leaning back on her palms. "Obvious one being 'who am I?' But the most pressing questions have to do with the man who took care of me for as long as I could remember. He was murdered. I've been selling my body ever since so I could... buy answers. Except... I haven't found anyone I could trust to buy answers from. If that makes sense at all," she concluded. "It's... what is that word? Ahh? Frustrated? Si, si." She gestured with her hand as if that would help to bring her the words she sought.

"I promise I will not be hurt. I have a guard nearby. It is something I have to do... He watches from the shadows." She wasn't about to point out which shadows, however.

Anthony was very, very confused, but stayed silent. So this woman is....looking for answers....regarding who she is and who it is that killed the man who took care of her for a long time? And she's also a courtesan. That was less interesting to him but nevertheless important. Looking at the ground and trying to piece everything together, he found himself failing at it. So he elected to just try to not overthink about this whole thing.

"Can't imagine how that must feel," he shrugged. Having so many questions only to find noone who has the answers to them? Anthony thought of the questions he had, and felt sad for a moment. But only for a moment. The sadness was replaced with a sort of anxiety as soon as she mentioned a guard, nearby, in the shadows. He knew he wasn't doing anything wrong at the moment, but still felt nervous. "that's good, then, at least."

The guard wasn't particularly overbearing, he didn't really see a threat as of yet and his mistress was not in distress. The blonde went silent for a time, then rubbed her forehead and finally said, "I am sorry. I should not have confided that in you, you are more of a stranger to me than myself." She flushed and cleared her throat. "I am called Sonia," she offered almost helplessly in an effort to make it a little less awkward.

She did not notice the change in his demeanor, of his distress that the guard was nearby.

Anthony fidgeted with his hands for a little bit, before putting them back in his pockets. When he had decided to take a walk he had certainly not expected this to happen, whatever this is. And the awkward silence that seemed as if it lasted for hours certainly didn't help him at all. "I'm Anthony." He glanced at the woman for a moment, flashing a brief smile in an effort to make this less awkward, but it seems that there's no changing that.

"No need to apologize....for....that," he said, hoping it to be in a reassuring way, but it almost certainly did not come out like that. "I was the one who asked, was I not?"