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A team. He supposed when you had that much money, who needed contacts? Most of his aliases were a bit more cut and paste than all that, but he they held together as long as he needed them to. This was clearly a longer term sort of operation, and significantly more polished, though he had some doubts about this 'team' of hers. No amount of money could make up for lack of experience, and he wasn't keen on the idea of trusting the whole plan to a bunch of white hats hand selected by some sheltered, college graduate little heiress who'd probably never nicked so much as a pack of gum.

Of course, it wasn't like the stakes were all that high, either. Sure, he was excited, but the risk was significantly lower than his usual games. What would they do if he was found out-- jail him? Please. He was a slave, he was basically exempt from responsibility, and anyway, it wasn't like they'd be pressing charges against their own daughter.

Still; it sounded like a fun challenge, and if he was going to do anything, he liked to excel at it. Perhaps he'd have to do a little background digging of his own, check out this team of hers, make sure they knew their stuff.

"Yea, for sure," he responded amiably. "Lucky for you I'm already pretty off the grid. My social media presence is low-key as it is; get me an internet connection when we get to yours and I can wipe it altogether."

And by that he meant, of course, wiping the last alias he'd had in place before getting caught. That wouldn't mesh too well with the one she had planned for him; or the second, more casual one he was currently creating. She less she knew of his actual background, the better. He liked to keep a few cards up his sleeve.

He laughed instantly, then cut it short, face working to try and stifle his amusement, eyes twinkling. Maybe it shouldn't be that funny. He cleared his throat a little, but looked unconcerned.

"Nah," he assured her with calm confidence, voice warm with humor. I've never been charged.

"Don't worry about that. Closest I've come to prison is a two day stay in a five star hotel, with private showers thanks," he jerked his thumb back over their shoulder the way they'd come, "so I'd say I'm doing pretty well.

"Cool, yeah," he agreed, with a wry, friendly little grin. "Sounds good."

He would have been fine to get started right away, but presented with another option, the idea of taking it easy for today sounded appealing too. He really was quite curious to get to know his new employer, and looking forward to settling into life at her home. It had been a long few days. To think that the elf could have sincerely been so relaxed, when not sixty hours ago he'd been waking up in his own bed, in his own apartment, surrounding by a lifetime's worth of possessions and memories, with his own freedom and routines and plans for the future, and now he had been forcibly separated indefinitely from all of that, well... it was a little bizarre to believe anyone could adjust that fast. He honestly really wasn't sweating it terribly, though. It's not like the Hotel had seized everything else in his life, along with his body and freedom. His bank account -- accounts, sorry -- were still right where he'd left them. As long as he got internet access sometime soon, he had enough saved that he could move some funds around and pay off his apartment for a considerable length of time... and he felt sorry for anyone who tried to break in there while he was gone.

His car, well. His car was probably a goner. It was surely in an impound lot somewhere by now; which was better than that thug of a security guard getting his hands on it. Good luck hacking that ignition; he'd done pretty extensive modding on his baby. But it was just a car-- albeit a gorgeous, toxic orange Tesla Roadster that had probably cost more than she'd paid for him -- if that was his only loss in this whole endeavor, well, he could live. He couldn't see any way he could come out of this whole situation terribly the worse for wear. Hannah seemed cool, she wasn't going to sell him back into slavery after she'd finished with him. And he wasn't worried about wasting years of his life, or anything. As unconventional as he might have been for an elf, and by his tribes' standards especially, they couldn't help the fact that his blood was as pure as they came. He had hundreds of years ahead of himself; maybe thousands. There was no rush to get anywhere, much less grow up any time soon.

So yeah, he was adjusting pretty well, all in all. But he didn't mind the idea of having a little chill time that night.

Her backyard had a trail?

If it had a trail, did that really qualify as a yard anymore?

Either way, he was down; his old place hadn't even had a real backyard, and he responded positively. They didn't talk too much more on the way there, but it wasn't uncomfortably silent, at least not to him. He knew they were nearing their destination when they got into rich-folk neighborhood. He was glued to the window when they passed through a coded gate, hanging raptly out it. This was a property, alright. Escape wasn't on his mind, but he couldn't help idly making notes of even the subtlest of visible security features out of sheer habit. The scenery was more forefront in his mind, though. Living in the city, he didn't get the chance to get out and experience nature quite as much as he would have liked... he had a strong, innate appreciation for it, but it just didn't quite jive with his lifestyle.

There was a lot you could do online these days, but camping trips were definitely one thing they hadn't quite managed to digitize yet... and they didn't strike him as being much fun to go on alone, either. Not that he didn't have friends! They just weren't, well, local. Not a last name basis so much as a username basis, ok.

He was eager to climb out of the car the moment it came to a halt. He gaped shamelessly up at the mansion, gleaming white against the canvas of deep blue sky behind it, expression calm and spacey, but impressed all the same.

"Wow~~," he laughed breathlessly, idly, tucking his hands into his short pockets, arms stretched straight so that his shoulders hunched up to his ears. He wandered unhurriedly around the car to meet her, nearly done speaking before those hazel eyes fell to her, twinkling with dumb humor, a cheeky little grin twitching across his face. "Not bad. So, this just your summer home, or what?"

Her sincere response to his joke earned a bemused, quiet chuckle from the elf, who chose not to correct her. Rich people.

The place was as large and grand as could be expected, pleasantly bright and well-lit, and as tasteful as he'd expected. Not exactly the kaleidoscopically decorated technological haven and adult playground he would surely have invested such exorbitant amounts of money in -- he noted the distinct absence of a deluxe-sized ball pit, for one -- but, you know, nice. Despite the collar around his neck, he didn't feel like a slave in the slightest, relaxed and already perfectly comfortable.

He wandered after her, enjoying the pleasant, natural lighting and open feel of the place. It had its own charm, he decided, and the scent of fresh baking wafting through the kitchen didn't hurt any. He idly ran his fingertips along the island counter, along the intricate backs of the dining room chairs, taking it all in with the practiced eye of an experienced case-jointer. The renaissance paintings stole his keen interest for monetary value over artistic, appraising them in his head and wondering how far off his estimated numbers were from their actual value. Aesthetically speaking, the glittery chandelier was far more attractive to him. Next stop was the elevator, and she was speaking again.

"Nice," he complimented in response with a little grin, leaning back against the elevator railing and holding onto it behind his back, one foot up against the wall and body slouched casually forward. "What kind of movies do you like?"

How was that even a toss up? Tony Stark had the money and the brains and the technology. Invent yourself into a superhero? Totally the way he'd do it. Plus he was funny. Why would you want to be Pepper Potts?

Then again, she was a girl, he supposed, so that made some sense. She could be Black Widow, but that seemed a bit... harsh, for her. Maybe Pepper Potts was more fitting.

He definitely wasn't taking her up on the offer of sharing her library, nice as it was. Not that he didn't read, he loved reading, but a brief, skimming glance at the titles revealed nothing interesting, and her own admission reaffirmed the impression. It said something about her, though; definitely an intellectual. What did she read for fun, he wanted to ask, but she was already moving on.

And then his room, and that definitely interested him the most, naturally. It was clear even before she said anything that that was what it was. It was a bit dry for him, more taste than personality. It looked like an expensive hotel room, impersonal and blank. He didn't like that about rich peoples' houses. More often than not, their environment said very little about the people themselves, besides the fact that they had money; because why design something yourself when you could pay someone to do a better job for you?

It was in desperate need of some cheery paint, a new bedspread and some posters, to start, but he was hardly so rude as to consider complaining. He could bring it up later, perhaps, depending on how long term this whole thing turned out to be. Not that he wanted to ask her for the money to do so. He didn't really want to bring up that he had his own money either, though; because technically, a slave had no legal rights to own anything. In the eyes of the government, the alias he'd given the Hotel might as well have died.

His new living quarters were pleasantly bright, though, and what did excite him about them was the balcony, which he bee-line wandered for almost immediately after barely taking in the rest of the room.

"-- No yeah totally," he agreed, tone cheery but in a dreamy, distant kind of way, after a distracted pause. His fingertips were pressed lightly to the glass, gazing out over the lawn, eyes calm and bright. He twisted to look back towards her, angling her one of those cheeky, endearingly awkward but un-self-conscious little grins, and added;

"I like the view."

"Cool," he agreed, perkily calm... and then he was alone.

He took a deep breath, listening to the silence settle in her wake. Not the claustrophobic, stifling silence of his last room; he could hear the birds chirping outside, and didn't feel trapped in the slightest. He wasted no time in pulling open all three doors, letting the air in, and then he was out there on the little balcony. Grasping the bars from the outside of the railing and bracing himself, he leaned forward fearlessly as far as he could, up on the tips of his toes.

He was bent at least ninety degrees over the edge when his ears caught the soft clicking of the door, and he bounced back, glancing back lightly towards the butler. Jones. Such a butler name.

"Sup," he greeted with absent-minded cheer, approaching.

Jones was pretty straight to the point, it turned out, about as proper as you'd expect a butler to be, and didn't really provide much in the way of conversation. Tevia didn't force it though, mind more interested in wandering as he obediently cooperated with the measuring process.

33" chest, 25" waist, 34" hips. 5'5", though Tevia solemnly informed him he was still growing. Only a lie if the butler didn't realize he was joking; but Tevia had been surprised before regarding how little people knew about elves. Arms spread out to either side, staring vacantly ahead as the butler wrapped the measuring tape around his waist from behind, he began quietly humming 'My Heart Will Go On'.

Jones didn't seem to appreciate the reference.

He'd get him one of these days.

By the time Hannah returned, Tevia had been alone just long enough to realize, with delight, just how many removable cushions the furniture in this room collectively offered. Fourteen. Not bad. He was on his way to perform an important bounciness test upon the mattress when he was rejoined, probably not a moment too soon.

"Yeah!" he agreed brightly, the bouncing potential of his bed forgotten instantly. He wasn't difficult to distract. He vaulted lightly around the corner of the bed and wandered up to follow her, somehow tight-rope-walking that line between calm and excited with dreamy, effortless expertise.

"Cool hat," he casually noticed as they headed out, with an approving glance its way. "Is pink your favorite color?"