He hadn't left his sister's pathetic little shack she called home because of her ugly beau, he had left so he wouldn't punch the shithead in the face and clue his sister in on his true nature. He was in a foul mood because of this... "Pony," fellow, if that was even his name. Piss-ant, not even fit to lick the dog shit off of his boot! He would have to deal with that devil at some point, probably even find a way to rid the world of the son of a whore once and for all.

He entered his favorite haunt, The Diamond Pony, his pride and joy. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, and the Madame came rushing forward, "We have a problem, Master."

"Not now," he growled.

"Yes, now." And she proceeded to tell him of things.

"Bring her to me," he said with a snarl.

The Madame gave a satisfied smirk and headed off to retrieve Cora.

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.

He glowered at the sight of the woman as she entered in her drawers. Of course, that did nothing to make his mood any better, it only made him want to bend her over the nearest sideboard and... Not now, he thought. He approached her and hooked her arm around his, then snapped his finger at the Madame, "Nobody is to enter the parlor." And with that, he escorted Cora out of the foyer, though paused long enough to say, "Not even you." The look of satisfaction died on the older woman's face, "Tell Sonia to bathe herself and make ready for me," he drawled out. Then he closed the door and with one swift move, propelled Cora into the empty parlor... forcefully.

"I thought I was coming here tonight to get rid of a foul mood... when to my surprise, or maybe not, it was explained to me that you tried to give away your services." He said this with a sickeningly sweet voice, obviously meaning ill. "Do you remember what happened to the last, insubordinate girl?" He approached her and took her chin in his hand. "Added to that, it seems you don't want to do your job."

Repulsion danced in those eyes when Magnus took her by the arm, and when he pushed her into the parlor, she stumbled and caught herself. She wasn't going to fall on her bottom in her underwear if she could help it. She spun around on the heel of her right foot to face him as he spoke to her, though this time she had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing her emotions swimming in her stare. She watched his body, for signs of aggression. When he approached, she stood her ground and when he hooked her chin within his fingertips, Cora's gaze finally met his again.

"Yes," she answered, trying to keep vitriol and fear both from the timbre of her voice. "I remember."

Part of Cora wanted to surprise him, to spit in his face, to inflict pain upon him, to run. She wasn't that stupid though--she had nowhere to go. Especially without clothing in the dead of winter. Or maybe she was because she didn't cease flapping her tongue at those three words, like a good courtesan would have. She tilted her head out of his hand, taking a step back from him.

"Going to beat some sense into me, then?"

"If I was only so predictable," he said with a sickeningly sweet tone to his voice. "I won't be punishing you today since money was paid, but I am not rewarding you either for your ill behavior. I am going to give you a choice..." He tapped her nose with the tip of his finger and then walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back for the moment. He spoke over his shoulder then, "You are not fit to be one of the courtesans anymore and I think you know it. From what I have heard, you haven't been taking on many clients, especially after this... Marcus fellow. He is my real interest." He turned to the woman and said in a low and ominous voice, "You can either use your wiles to find out more about what he wants and stay on as a servant here, or you can go on your merry way with the clothing you arrived with. All of the jewels and finery you have purchased since will be confiscated as a means of paying for the loss of wages you have incurred during your time here. I am doing you a kindness by letting you put something on over your drawers."

Cora said nothing--she didn't have to. That stare of hers turned icy with bitterness as Magnus spoke. His ultimatum echoed in her mind, and while his offer was reasonable for a woman who'd come to Whitby with nothing but the clothes on her back (and in the middle of summer, no less), she knew it wasn't something she could do. The connection she'd felt with Marcus was too strong and too real for her to casually cast aside in search of more information for Magnus.

"No," she said, and her tone was certain. She shook her head, a few blonde curls bouncing with the movement. Her jaw clenched and she repeated herself, though a bit more eloquently. "I'll take my chances in the cold."

The courtesan--or rather, now ex-courtesan--couldn't hide the smirk that stole across her lips, though she tried. As she stepped around Magnus, she became acutely aware that she sounded like a fool. Any woman with half a brain and in her position would take the opportunity that had been graciously offered. Hell, had Marcus been a party to this conversation, Corine felt deep down that he would have encouraged her to do what was necessary to keep her off the streets; he'd expressed that exact concern when she mentioned leaving with him a few nights ago.

When Cora reached the door, she glanced over her shoulder at Magnus and furrowed her brow slightly. Her mouth opened as if she were going to say something else, but ultimately, the woman said naught.

“Oh, but there is one more thing I failed to mention.” He turned just as Cora was about to depart the room, he went on to say, “Since you want so badly to leave despite my generous offer, I am assuming you broke a cardinal rule… which means I can’t let you leave until I make an example out of you. Don’t bother trying to run… I have men outside the door and I have but to say the word. I suggest you cooperate and make it easier on yourself.” He smiled that sick smile of his again, like the cat that ate the canary. Oh, but he was having too much fun with all of this, he thought with unsuppressed glee.

To be able to have entertainment to lighten his foul mood, well… that was unexpected. He moved up behind her and breathed into her ear knowing full well that it would probably repulse her. “Now walk with me.” It was not a request.

"Of course you do," Cora said sourly beneath her breath, a shudder of disgust running down her spine. Her repulsion seemed to increase tenfold as he whispered that command into her ear. Her hand lifted as if he'd slobbered on her and wiped away the feel of his breath on her skin. The woman didn't doubt the readiness of the men on the other side of that door any more than she doubted what Magnus was capable of. She twisted around him again, knowing better than to keep an enemy at her back. And at that moment, that's exactly what Magnus was.

Cora didn't want to know what was coming. In fact, her heart thumped loudly in her chest as she tried to fathom how he'd make an example of her. Her jaw tensed slightly and she extended her arms outward, shoulders lifting as an exasperated noise left her lips. It wasn't that she was surprised; Cora knew what she'd done as she was doing it and in the days that followed. She'd broken that rule, and though the loss of all her belongings and subsequent turning of the woman out into the street was a heavy price to pay on its own, she wasn't surprised by those words. She was, after all, no better than a horse turned feral--and that was something Cora understood.

"Fine," she said after a moment and she did as he bade.

He led her into the main hall, where curious onlookers were already gathered. He cast a glance toward everyone, and anyone who was smiling seemed to deflate at the sight of him. Nobody wanted to deal with the Master on a bad day, let alone one where he was in as foul a mood as he seemed to be in at that moment. He grabbed the hand of the woman he was about to punish, drew her forward with a jerk and lifted his voice, "I give you simple rules to follow... and when they are broken, there must be punishment. The cardinal rule was broken it seems. This woman would rather live in the cold than stay on here and enjoy our riches and hospitality. What do you think I should do, hmm?" He jerked his head toward one of his guards to take hold of Cora, took out a hankie and spread it on a nearby table, then nodded to the guard, who pushed Cora forward and put her hand on the hanky, spread out. Magnus took out his knife and began to toy with it in front of her, "A finger for a broken rule, that seems fair."

A low growl rumbled from the depths of Corine's belly as she was thrust toward one of the men and made to bend toward the table. She watched as the fingers of her left hand were splayed out before them in abject horror as her gaze lifted not toward Magnus, but the onlookers. The men and women she'd spent time working among. The former courtesan shouldn't have been surprised. She'd seen far worse done, especially back home. Her eyes widened, crystal blue gaze seemingly pleading, and was met with the awestruck silence that only fear could employ.

When she was certain no one would come to her rescue, when she was certain that no one was going to interrupt what was about to occur, she swallowed hard. If there was one thing Corine wasn't, it wasn't complacent. She dipped downward, mouth opening as she sought to sink her teeth into the arm of her captor, hard. Simultaneously, the woman jerked her hand back and twisted, fingers of her other hand curling into a tight fist which she brought around toward the man's face before she spat at Magnus. If no one would rescue her, she'd have to do it herself, and she was okay with that. She was also okay with the potential consequences, because to have fought and lost was better than to have not done so at all.

"I don't think you understand the definition of fair," she hissed, and there was an untamed wildness in her stare. "I propose this, instead. I leave, in my underwear, unmaimed. If I survive the cold, I survive it. If I don't, well... that was my fool's choice, wasn't it?"