Choices

[Oriena]

The American made himself at home. Brash. Arrogant. And he called her duckling. She supposed some might find that charming - the devil-may-care grin, the chivalry - but Ori found it vaguely dismissive. His excuses washed weak. But his demanding attitude she liked. "And if it's the other way around, will you - on your honour - protect him, from me?"
Her words were dry, the spark in her eyes a challenge. Her gaze drifted to Giovanni, and the sharpness of her smile cut errantly mischievous.

Giovanni's reaction to the intruding mortal was hostile, but he showed no outward signs of jealousy. If he had been docile before, now his personality receded to something far darker. Of the two she knew which she preferred, and his changeability made him deliciously pliable. Had she only caught him at a weak moment, or was he really as unstable as she might hope? His eyes bore holes into the newcomer, and his tongue slipped to something she wouldn't have guessed as his native tongue. She didn't know what the word meant, but the way he said it, she guessed at something unpleasant.

Of course, Giovanni's irritation sealed her welcome, whatever her own opinions. She took the offered hand (and the offered drink). "Nox so they tell you? I'm Oriena. Don't take him personally. Giovanni here, he's had a rough day."