Glass Houses

[Raffe]

Ilesha offered her hand alongside her name, a quaint gesture given their location, but Raffe accepted it anyway, and maybe lingered his palm longer than was strictly necessary. Her attention had dipped momentarily to her phone when he spotted Oriena over her shoulder. It had been months before he'd even realised she, not Carmen, actually owned the place, yet he'd seen her more the past few weeks than he had the whole time he'd worked here. She wended her way through the clientele, catching a number of ardent gazes before dismissing them. Her direction was clear.

She was a predator stretching in her own territory, and her interest honed in. "This is Oriena,"
he said by way of introduction. She only had eyes for Ilesha, her smoky gaze dissecting the girl and examining each piece curiously. "Play nicely,"
he warned her, retrieving a bottle of vodka. "I just told her we don't bite."


But Oriena only laughed.

He poured a measure into a crystal glass and pushed it tinkling towards her, then on consideration left the bottle. By now Claire had finally shown. Raffe grinned roguishly, about to rib her for being late, but changed his mind when he noticed how uncomfortable Ilesha looked -- as well anyone might, when Oriena set her sights. He decided to stick around.

His gaze skipped to Claire. "Beautiful as ever. Working or drinking?"