Blood Sport

[Oriena]

The Sigma diffused the situation, but with the path smoothed to peace, Ori's interest began to dwindle. Still standing after ignoring Giovanni's offer of a seat, her posture shifted to reflect the subtle accusation of boredom. "I must be a lucky girl."
To the barb of Marcus' sarcasm, she offered the falseness of an overly sweet reply.

At least White had made a show of the opportunity she'd presented. She didn't seek him in the crowd, but she did scan lazily over the rest of the club. As with many of the things Ori did, there were layers to her intentions and goals. She wove amusement in with business for purely selfish reasons, but in the stir of her own chaos did not forget to pluck free the things she wanted. She found the face she sought, the breadcrumb trail to tonight's purpose now that other distractions had worn thin.

Her attention trailed back. Giovanni appeared to have drawn himself into introspection, his answers short, his gaze contemplative. He thought too much and acted too little. The rash murderer she'd first met had tonight proved himself tempered with more caution than she'd expected. He might have made a spectacle, but instead chose obscurity.

"I'll leave you gentlemen to it."
The disinterest was a snub, either softened or made more razor sharp by her parting smirk.