Calling in Favours

[Oriena]

A cheshire grin observed Claire's prowess, or more specifically the reactions of the two men when it became clear just how she'd hustled them. A shrug accented her slender shoulder at Ivan's glare, though her gaze glittered a misinforming complicity - daring him to call them out. She almost hoped he'd try, but though his eyes daggered lower with every ball struck into the pocket, he said nothing. Viktor, on the other hand, was staring with a kind of boyish awe, swaying between the sashay of Claire's hips to the finesse with which she played.

The last ball teetered on the edge. Ori's gaze flicked up to Claire, twitched a smirk at the woman's intent, and waited. No tell-tale light glowed from her skin. No curling tendrils of otherworldly power nudged the ball into the hole. Oriena did not help out either, though the curve of her expression lured dangerously wanton. She understood the frustration; the gift did not always come to her call, either. Cara had taught her techniques to welcome the power in, but the situations in which it was denied her were so rare she'd never definitively broken through the weakness.

A mischievous smirk indicated commiserations as Viktor began lining up his first shot. Oriena came to stand behind Claire, curled an arm around her neck, brushed fingers against her collarbone. It was an intentionally seductive repose; the eye she kept on Ivan was devilishly self-aware as she leaned into the other woman. Even in motorcycle boots she stood taller, her lips brushing into dark gold hair. A low laugh, her amusement aimed at two oblivious prey. "The secret. Is submission. Let it take you. Surrender to it."
Her voice purred, encouraging.