Pawns in the game

[Oriena]

The strange compliments (as she took them to be) unmoved her. A slight thrill? Ori reclined languidly in her seat, propped her elbow against the backrest, and rested her head on her fist. One slender brow rose. "I wouldn't mention a price or a ride to her if you're hoping to get lucky, Manix. This isn't a brothel."
She didn't bother to mention that her employees were not supposed to indulge the clientele. That rule had served its purpose, and though it had never been rescinded from the contracts, neither did she enforce it. Perhaps Carmen did; Oriena didn't actually know. Or care.

Jaxen sat back down. Close enough, this time, to waft the allure of his aftershave. Oriena's gaze took a languorous tour of his body, a sly smirk pricking her lips. She'd expected the new challenge to heat his heels out the door. Not that she was complaining of his company. "The only good snake is a dead one."
She repeated the old words like a mantra, a taste of vitriol on her tongue. Of course, if he really wanted to know her intentions, he'd have to ask. The answer would be a fluid one, though; Ori was in it for the ride. The thrill. And whatever opportunity might be grasped along the way. Materialistic lures were not part of her obsessions.

She leaned in. "Maybe we'll find you some pretty trinkets. Seems you could use the cash?"
The accusation was softened with the whisper of breath against his ear, chased by husky laughter. The playfulness had an edge of cruelty; that was rote with Ori. She expected he'd find some excuse to leave rather than retaliate.