Triumphant return

[Oriena]

All things he could have advised over the phone, if they were so important. Impatience wriggled in her chest at the delay, but she stood still and impassive while he circled and made his judgements. From the initial comment she had assumed he had changed his mind about her going, but the suspicion calmed once she realised he was merely talking business. That was tolerable.

"Luckily,"
she repeated drily. Momentary irritation faded, replaced by the cut of a playful smile and a smokey gaze. "If you wanted to play dress-up, Jaxen, you should have just said, because I have much better suggestions for that."
Still, she complied without an argument, falling a few inches from eye level as she slipped off her heels. Her fingers already tangled with the buttons of a blouse tucked into high-waisted leather pants, offering a glimpse of lace through the sheer fabric. "You know, I really doubt the Atharim have a dress code."


She retreated as she spoke, brow raised, amusement on her lips. "Dinner? Don't we have staff for that, dearest one? Why the fuck did I even marry you?"


She smirked. The shirt was slipping from her shoulders as she disappeared into his bedroom.

Oriena didn't spend much time riffling through the garments on offer, and opted to take what was closest to hand.

Lace that was provocative beneath the sheer panels of her blouse was simply incongruous with the options before her, so the bra came off with everything else. An off-grey, razor-backed tank dragged over her head. Practical pants slid up her hips, tucked into flat boots. A jacket. It was not so different from what she might wear on business in the Underground, and practical had an upside of comfortable. She came out bare-faced, her hair back in a sleek ponytail, and in far less time than Jaxen had left her months before while he prettied himself for the party upstairs. "Satisfied?"