Calling in Favours

[Oriena]

Viktor bumped her gently from the task of racking the balls, a clumsy attempt at chivalry she supposed. Ori shoved playfully at his head, and though she was smirking while she did it there was a warning promise of violence to the movement. He grinned, assuming flirtation on her behalf, glancing at her with a puppyish expression. The miscommunication only fuelled her vitriolic instincts. She flashed her teeth when she smiled.

Claire didn't answer the question, but Oriena did not repeat it. Her interest in the answer was superficial at best, an offer of camaraderie that the woman seemed amenable to anyway given her sly wink. What she proposed was no contest at all. At least not if Ori continued to use her gifts to allow her to win. Even then the game inspired little; the men bored her. They were inoffensively ordinary, mired in a dull world, too unimaginative to think beyond the rush of blood south. Distracted by a more interesting prospect, and still waiting on her contact, Oriena's tolerance edged sharp, but she'd use her advantages where she saw them. The spark of a conspiratorial smile ricocheted from the challenge.

"And what're the stakes?"
After a swig of beer, Ivan pulled his cue from the stand, using it to lean on. His question was undirected, his gaze drifting between the pair of women with the lazy intensity of one rocking on the edges of drunk.

"What do you want, Ivan?"
The husk in Oriena's voice did not offer an invitation, though the brazen dare of it was hardly a rebuff either. She crossed to wrap her fingers around the cue in his grip. She was tall enough even without heels to look him in the eye. "We'll go first then?"
A gentle pull and he relinquished his hold. "Want to break, Claire?"


"Can you even use that, Claire?"
Viktor laughed in a good natured way as he blearily lined up the balls and lifted the plastic triangle, then stepped back to admire the perfection - or at least check that it was level. He grinned and waved a hand to offer Claire the stage.