Calling in Favours

[Oriena]

Oriena was pliant as a china doll as Claire plucked her hand, discarded it, stepped in slow circles around her. Curiosity misted her watching gaze, alongside a healthy dose of skepticism. No light infused Claire, no tell-tale tendrils of power to bring credence to this "fortune-telling." A little disappointment marred her patience when it became clear that whatever game Claire was playing, its supernatural element was not something Oriena could detect.

A motorcycle. A man. Recognition rippled through her brain, but she did not credit the epiphany to Claire. She was wearing motorbike boots, and minutes ago she'd had her hand wrapped around someone's throat. It wasn't such a wild extrapolation for a con-artist to stake a gamble on. The bruise under her eye was not camouflaged with cosmetics either; it was clearly not an injury of which she was ashamed, in fact she wore it like a badge. Violence, to Ori, was a time-trusted companion. An allegiance in plain sight.

"Mmm. And I'm sure he deserved it."
Her lips tipped a generous smile, but she withheld judgement despite Claire's search for a reaction. Of course, Claire might have ripped her heart right from her breast and still would have garnered less response. As it was it did prick at something private, but confirmation of vagueness was a con-artist's currency. The words may not have impressed Ori, but she did approve of the showmanship.