Her smile was real, accompanied by a predatory edge. "O'course ye don't care," she said. The rasp was back in her voice. She matched his two steps, clasped her hands behind her back. She had no cleverly sheathed weapons to hold. Her movements had gone sinuous, though her baggy clothing hid much of it from sight.
But Zhi knew men and women, had watched her mam earn gil through body language and speech when Zhi was a tot. Sometimes it was not the showing of skin that was alluring, but the hiding of it.
Not that Zhavi Streetrunner had ever been called alluring in her life (outside of doxy patter, anyways), but she'd played the game.
It was her job.
It was fun.
Renewed interest showed in the way she looked at him, though the slight hitch to her hips, the set of her shoulders was more aggressive than their exchange of words warranted. She was mischievous. She was, in her own way, attempting to toy with him. Faint, but there.
A fulm remained between them, so long as he did not step back.
"But if ye don't help Thatcher, y'don't get yer. . .treat."
To his last words, she had nothing for him but a small smirk. It held all the confidence in the world.
But Zhi knew men and women, had watched her mam earn gil through body language and speech when Zhi was a tot. Sometimes it was not the showing of skin that was alluring, but the hiding of it.
Not that Zhavi Streetrunner had ever been called alluring in her life (outside of doxy patter, anyways), but she'd played the game.
It was her job.
It was fun.
Renewed interest showed in the way she looked at him, though the slight hitch to her hips, the set of her shoulders was more aggressive than their exchange of words warranted. She was mischievous. She was, in her own way, attempting to toy with him. Faint, but there.
A fulm remained between them, so long as he did not step back.
"But if ye don't help Thatcher, y'don't get yer. . .treat."
To his last words, she had nothing for him but a small smirk. It held all the confidence in the world.
