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With her broodmate back in town, Eyrgjafa has been carving slots out of her schedule to spend time with the other Daeva. Which is why she's Blushed up and dressed in a snugly fitting purple mesh top and red denim cutoffs, and in a bar.
Rhea knows how to make an entrance; it's a personal hobby. A svelte figure slides through the door and prowls toward the bar. A murmuring follows her, a cascade of second glances. Her dark hair is impossibly long and perfectly glossy, hanging free nearly to her hips. Leather pants painted on perfect curves - the kind carved from marble in eras past. Her corset top shows a waist once whittled by whalebone. Skin like warm, Blushed porcelain, with kohl-smoked dark eyes with a simmering coal of gold within.
She moves like she's on a mission, and she is: to find, at last, her sister.
Glancing up at the sensation of an approaching beast, Eyrgjafa smiles slowly, languorously lifting one hand to beckon Rhea over. "Systir mín. You're looking good tonight. Did you enjoy your travels?"
Rhea's smile lights her features, blooming across red lips and warm eyes. She makes a squealing noise, a shimmy to her hips as she dances toward Eyrgjafa - and throws her arms around the other woman, embracing her tightly. "I look good every night, gorgeous," she purrs in her ear, giving her a squeeze. "My travels were momentous, but now I'm here and thrilled to see you! Look at you, you're fabulous!"
""Only the best for our reunion. It's been too long." Eyrgjafa returns the embrace unselfconsciously. "Have you stopped in to talk to Tahmina yet?"
"Oh no, not yet. I'm looking forward to seeing her, of course, but I wanted to see you first." Rhea tosses her hair so she can slide onto an adjacent barstool, all of her attention devoted to her broodmate. Chin cradled in her palm, she can't seem to help smiling. "It is absolutely wonderful to see you, Eyrgjafa. I feel giddy at coming home."
"I'm glad to have you back, believe me. It just hasn't been the same since you left." Eyrgjafa returns the smile. "Where did you visit?"
"Oh darling, where didn't I go!" She laughs, flipping a pale, elegant hand. "I finally took the Orient Express, for one. It was everything I'd hoped it would be," she sighs, her expression turning wistfully dreamy. "All the young students, backpacking across the world. Honey, trust me. I certainly wasn't lonely." She wrinkles her nose in an impish expression, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth.
Eyrgjafa outright giggles at that. "I bet they enjoyed your company, too." She pauses for a moment, glancing around theatrically. "You know, I can't help noticing there's plenty of room on the dance floor tonight. Want to join me?"
Rhea scoffs, resting a hand on Eyrgjafa's arm; she leans in, bumping her brows. "As if you ever have to ask if I'd like to dance, sweetheart. Away we go!" Rhea quickly grasps Eyrgjafa's hand to pull her into the revel!
Eyrgjafa is very willing to be pulled into the revel. Almost like she was planning that with her question, actually. She's not especially talented, but she can still hold her own.
Rhea steps onto the dancefloor and is instantly in her element. Her movements are fluid with grace, hair a silk fall that only accentuates the beauty of her dance. Her style of dance is certainly inspired by her years in cabaret and bellydance, inspired by the step-shimmy-step and hypnotic, serpentine movements of Egyptian cabaret or tribal fusion. Her eyes roll closed with the sheer joy of moving, head tilted back in devotion to her art.
As the pair come onto the dancefloor, they might realize they're not the only predators there. A gentleman with owlish eyes behind round, gold-framed glasses is there. Well, maybe a gentleman. A guy, either way. His hair's back in a ponytail, and there's a fedora on his head, and he seems to be quite lost in the rhythm until he notices the pair of Daeva and boogies his way over to them. Rhea's talent draws his attention like a flower draws a bee.
Eyrgjafa is good-looking, most Daeva are, but she's not poetry in motion like Rhea is. Henry gets a glance and small smile, before she returns her attention to her sister, doing her - admittedly somewhat mediocre, in this arena - best to complement the other Septemi's performance.
Rhea takes Eyrgjafa by the hand and draws her in; leading, she guides her Daeva broodmate to mimic her steps and movements until they are in tandem, spreading the beauty and grace of the dance to include her. A ripple of sensation trembles across Rhea's arms, and she swivels to take note of the the other vampire; with a feline smile, she uncoils one arm towards him to beckon him in.
Oh, he allows himself to be drawn into Rhea's orbit. While he cut his teeth on jazz, the more sensual style of dance the Acolyte brings to the table is something he slots himself into with the skill of a dance chameleon, his movement graceful as a snake slithering. Eyrgjafa gets a warm fond smile, though, because she's familiar, even if her dancing is more basic.
There might, at some point, be an audible 'wow' from the Gangrel here.
Eyrgjafa grins slightly as she glances between the other two predators, admiring their grace. "How've you been, Henry?"
He can dance! Rhea claps her hands together with a cheery squeal, twirling around Henry with a smooth roll of her hips. She busies herself with twisting around the pair in her seductive way, occasionally merging with some other lucky dancer - only to break away and return to the other predators.
"Better now! Wowee, wasn't expecting to run into this sort of an opportunity tonight." He laughs aloud, trying to meet Rhea on her level, though he doesn't lean into the sexy thing as much as she does. "Keeping busy, in general. You?"
"Keeping busy," Eyrgjafa admits with a chuckle. "I couldn't pass up the chance to spend time with my systir now she's back in town, though, even if she's much more skilled as a dancer than I am."
Rhea twirls closer, hip-checking Eyrgjafa; she looks delirious with pleasure, her Blush high in her cheeks, golden light in her eyes honey-bright. "It's not about skill, it's about passion! Fake it 'till you make it!" And she twirls away again, dipping in like a sprite to touch her lips to Eyrgjafa's and then Henry's cheek. Barely there, little more than the brush of butterfly wings - and she's back to dancing.
He reaches up to touch his cheek where Rhea had kissed, blinking, before throwing himself back into the dance. "What's your name, doll?"
"We're both passionate, systir mín, but skill does help," Eyrgjafa counters. "Though I take your point." Not that she really needs to - for all that she's not as practiced as the other two, she's clearly enjoying the chance to cut loose.
Rhea draws herself back into the orbit of Eyr and Henry, settling back against Henry with casual grace. "Rhea," she drawls, beaming up at him; it's all genuine and bright, this affection and enthusiasm. She seems genuinely thrilled to be alive in this moment, doing exactly this. "And you're Henry, oui?"
"Henry Moynihan." He removes his hat from his head, and places it on Rhea's playfully, one hand settling against her hip. "Formal introductions are a later thing, or your...'systir'?...can fill you in later. Though it's not very impressive, on the whole."
Eyrgjafa shrugs slightly. "Your talents are still valuable, even if you're not the type for a fancy title." She grins. "More pleasant than our dear Miss Conquered, too."
"Nonsense," she chides, waving her free hand. "You can dance, you are delightful company - impressive or not, I shall keep you." She tosses her hair with an imperious air of finality, as if that's that for Queen Rhea.
"Keep me?" He laughs. "Oh, good luck getting ahold of me for long enough to."
"That sounds like a challenge, to me," Eyrgjafa muses aloud, glancing between the other vampires. "Though there are definitely opportunities awaiting if you ever decide to jump ship, Henry."
She slants dark eyes up at Henry, lifting her chin in a pert, smug gesture. "Is that a challenge? I do love a good round of catch and release."
There's a quiet look he gives Eyrgjafa, as if a little stunned by that offer, before he puts the smirk back on his face. "Oh, Rhea. I would never challenge anyone in this town. I'm simply far too slow, stupid and weak to be worth paying attention to. You'll see, in time."
"So self-deprecating." Eyrgjafa sighs. "You don't need to downplay your talents in front of us, you know."
There's another imperious toss of her head, her gaze turning heavy-lidded. "Nonsense. I don't know who filled your head with this pathetic cluster of lies, but I refuse to believe it." She gives a simple shrug of one bare shoulder.
He shakes his head slightly, and his smile is soft and sweet. "Believe what you will about ol' Henry Moynihan. I know what I know."
"If you say so." Eyrgjafa's tone is clearly somewhat dubious, but she lets the topic drop. "What brought you here tonight, if you don't mind my asking?"
Rhea defers to the other Daeva's question, head tilting so she can regard Henry with luminous, curious eyes.
"The dance--always the dance. It's what I live for, these nights. Everything stays the same, but people find new ways to move."
"Fair enough," Eyrgjafa admits. "People are endlessly creative, it's amazing."
She makes a happy, thrumming noise of delight at Henry's reasoning, rolling her hips and curling her arms in writhing, pale tendrils over her head. "Dance was the first prayer," she drawls, her voice serene and intimate. "The first thing we offered of our bodies up to any God who dared to look. Is it no wonder that it has become an enduring art, an eternal passion?"
"I don't know nothing about gods, but I know something about passion, maybe." He grabs his hat back, rolling it up his arm to his shoulder and bouncing it onto his head.
Eyrgjafa blinks once. "Yeah? What do you know about passion, Henry?" She gives the other Septemi an amused look.
"That's okay," she sighs, her tone bright and airy; she twines her arms back around Henry's neck and uses him as a frame to hold herself up, giving Eyrgjafa a dark, conspiratorial wink. "They know all about you, darling."
And Henry kisses Rhea on the cheek, returning the one she gave earlier, as he wraps both arms around her gently. It's not an attempt to restrain, just to make more contact with the Daeva. "It's not something that one can talk about, while doing it justice. Passion is something you live, and philosophy's bullshit around it."
This is definitely not the sort of place you usually find Finley. Yet--here they are, moving unnoticed through the crowds and doing zher best not to bump into anyone. Zhe likely would be content to just wallflower all night... until zhe spots the other Kindred. There's some time spent waffling nervously, but eventually Finley makes zher way over, allowing zhemself to be noticed once at Eyrgjafa's side. Zher dressed in ill fitting dark slacks, their usual oversized grey coat--and... a pink dinosaur button up? And a mask, of course--tonight has cartoon cacti on it.
Glancing to the side as she senses another Kindred, Eyrgjafa smiles delightedly once she realises who it is. "Evening, Finley. How've you been?"
Rhea settles into her new Henry-throne, content as a cat in cream. Her gaze roams over to Finley, a smile lighting up her features. "This is Finley?!"
Henry's fingernails run gently over the fabric of her corset top, making a quiet sound, before his gaze shifts to the Nosferatu. "Yeah, that's Finley. Zhe's a quiet one, but pretty alright."
"Hi," Finley says softly to Eyr, almost drowned out by the other noise of the bar, and carrying a notable lisp. Zhe looks a little alarmed as Rhea and Henry's attention focuses on them, and the Daeva's excited reaction, shifting a bit closer to Eyr as zhe eyes go wide. "Yes...?" to Rhea, before giving Henry a shy glance. "Hi, Henry..."
"Finley, Rhea. Rhea, Finley." Eyrgjafa pats the Nosferatu on the shoulder gently. "She's one of us, I think you'll like her. Even if she can be a bit extra sometimes." Her voice is fond.
"Oh honey, it's all right," she tells Finley, her tone a soothing balm of reassurance. "I'm your auntie, of course; we just haven't met yet. I've heard all about you, of course." At Eyrgjafa's teasing remark, Rhea rolls her eyes and makes a dismayed, scoffing noise that is nothing short of extra. "Me!? I am not extra - I am passionate. When you're filthy rich, you pay to upgrade into 'passionate'."
"No, that's not how it works. I'm pretty sure Commissioner Cordray is still Extra, for example." This is muttered quietly, and with a brief glance around as if he's afraid she might manifest to give him a tongue lashing for that remark.
Finley looks between Eyrgjafa and Rhea for a moment curiously, relaxing a little. Even thought they're on the dance floor, Fin........ doesn't dance. They just kind of stand there awkwardly.... "Nice to meet you," Fin murmurs to Rhea, though the mention of Cordray makes zhem grimace faintly.
"Ugh, Cordray." Eyrgjafa also grimaces at the reminder of her. "Rhea might be filthy rich, but she's not a bitch, don't worry." Beat. "I wouldn't be this close to her if she was."
"Pfah," Rhea snorts, making a distasteful face. "As if I would ever be anything so blandly lacking as a commissioner," drawls the Daeva, tossing her hair; she is an expert at this hair-tossing, managing to avoid flinging her locks into Henry's face. It's a gift. She beams at Eyrgjafa, blowing a kiss. "You're sweet to me. No, I'm certainly not a bitch." Pause. "Well. Except for special occasions, or when someone's been very, very good and earned it."
It is indeed a gift Henry is grateful for. "You know, it's not even just being a bitch I mind. We're all a little more or less. It's...hm. She seems to think she's already won, when she doesn't even know the game being played here. It's like trying to castle when you're playing checkers or sommat like that."
Finley nods along to the reassurances of Rhea not being a bitch, turning back to watch Rhea and Henry dance together. They're not ogling, that much is clear, but zhe stares with some muted interest to take in the way they move together.
"Only the best for you, systir mín," Eyrgjafa grins, before nodding at Henry's words. "I don't think she'd be any good at the game as it's played here even if she did know the rules, but that lack of familiarity doesn't help her in the slightest."
"Oh dear, that sounds horrible," clucks Rhea, brow furrowing in pretty distress. "Is she not clever enough for chess? Or perhaps she does not know she's playing checkers? It can be a common syndrome among the quasi-powerful, I've found. Don't get me wrong, it can be absolutely endearing to watch, but it's rather like watching a pet dog. They're cute when they want snuggles, but eventually they're just licking their own ass." Rhea sounds positively saddened by this trend.
Henry lets out a snort of laughter, his arms around Rhea tightening slightly as the giggles overtake him and he needs her to hold himself up instead of the other way around. "Don't let her ever hear you say that."
Finley blinks at Rhea slowly, eyes going a bit wider for a moment before zhe gives a slow nervous look around the dance floor, as if watching for any spooky shadowy Anna-Maries that might jump out at them.
"Or do when we're around to watch her reaction. I'm sure it'll be hilarious." Eyrgjafa grins, before glancing at Finley. "You okay?"
"Oh, fine," she drawls, affecting a pout. "I will keep it to myself, mes amis. But it sounds as though this commissioner has a stranglehold on your bon vivant." Her features turn mournful, dark eyes dancing with amusement. "It simply will not do."
Henry rights himself again, finally letting go of Rhea completely. "It's alright. I...it comes with the territory, really. You don't do big flashy things, you don't move up the corporate ladder, you're always going to be the small fish in the pond. It's just how things go."
Zhe looks back to Eyrgjafa and nods. "Mm, yeah. ...Is she really that... bad?" zhe asks the others softly. "What has she done... to deserve everyone being so mean to her all the time...?" It's not asked with any offense, just genuine concern and confusion. Naive, perhaps.
Eyrgjafa pauses before answering, glancing around to check nobody's in earshot. Finley's presence makes that more likely, of course, but checking is still a good idea. "Annoyed our seasonal friends, for one thing. She loves her petty games of power and privilege, and doesn't understand that most of us just... aren't interested."
"How does she treat others in turn? Perhaps that is where the ire originated? I don't pretend to know, of course," Rhea admits, waving a hand briefly and returning it to coil around Henry's neck idly.
"She treats people like tools. That's what a good Wictie does, dontchaknow?" He smiles as he says that, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Mm..." Finley's brows crease together a little, but zhe nods faintly after a moment, hands burying into zher coat pockets.
"Anyway! On to more pleasant topics." Eyrgjafa says, even as she pats Finley on the shoulder reassuringly. "Do you have anything planned now you're back in town, Rhea?"
"What is this! Talk of a shadow not even here, and gloom has settled in. Cheer up, mes amis." She gives them a warm, uplifting smile before nodding to Eyrgjafa. "Oh yes, so many plans. I'm staying put, for one. I've purchased an estate here. As for how to keep busy, I have designs on an entertainment venue. A show for the curious souls out there with magic and mystery, tasting deliciously of the Victorian era." She pauses, her grin turning devilish. "With more hedonism, of course. Musicians, performers, the best of food and drink. I'm going to call it Penny Dreadful."
"Hmmm, that sounds like a fun place to be." He gives Rhea a thoughtful sort of look. "Once it's all set up, expect me to show up, alright? 'If you build it, they will come', and all that jazz."
Finley's eyes drift around to others on the dance floor, staring at people moving with the music. Then zhe looks down at zhemself, and starts to... ...sway in place awkwardly, just sort of... moving zher weight back and forth between zher feet, hands still buried in zher coat pockets, but moving them enough that zher coat swishes back and forth as well. Swish swish. Though as Rhea talks about her business, Fin glances up curiously towards her.
"I am shocked, shocked, to hear you planning anything hedonistic." Eyrgjafa deadpans. "Let me know when the opening is?"
"Of course I will," Rhea assures both Henry and Eyrgjafa, lifting her chin in a preening gesture. Her dark gaze settles idly on Finley, her smile turning gentle. "And what about you, mon petit? Will you come and supper at the revels?"
Henry watches as Fin begins to sway, separating from Rhea once more, this time to walk over to the Nos and offer a hand. "Wanna dance, kid?"
Finley blinks. "Mmm... Do... I have to do hedonistic stuff if I do?" zhe asks nervously, with some caution. Then Henry gets a stare of confusion. "...Me?"
"Don't worry, I'm sure everyone there will respect your boundaries." Eyrgjafa says. "I can't imagine Rhea tolerating anyone who wouldn't, after all."
"Oh darling, no," she breathes, for once appearing serious; her brow furrows, and she gives a fervent shake of her head. "No, that would be a violation of my ideals, Finley. You may simply attend and enjoy in whatever shape that enjoyment takes. There are no violations of the sacred laws of consent at Penny Dreadful - and if anyone were to press otherwise, then they may answer to me." The glimmer in her gaze turns predatory in the same vein as a mother panther, all sleek threat and protective promise.
"You!" Henry's grin comes warm and easily. "You've got the rhythm; now you just need to actually move."
"...Mm...Okay." Finley murmurs, accepting and trusting--though it seems to be directed towards zher family members. Meanwhile, Henry is continuing to get stared at in nervous, muted horror. The hand is left hanging for a few seconds before Finley cautiously grips it and gives a tentative nod.
"Trust me, Fin, anyone who hurts you will have at least three very angry women going after them." Eyrgjafa grins slightly, moving over to dance with Rhea. "We take care of our own."
Rhea appears delighted by this turn of events; she finds a new resting-point in Eyrgjafa, settling back against the other Daeva with a contented hum. She gives Finley a smile of enthusiastic reassurance paired with a double thumbs-up. "That's it, mon petit! Simply allow Henry to lead, let your movements grow fluid. Like water, mon petit, like water," she coaches.
Henry gently moves in against Fin, starting with that familiar sway, before beginning to move, a few simple steps, taking the lead in as polite a manner as possible. "You're tense. I need you to relax as much as you can. I'm not going to hurt you, or let you look silly here."
Finley gives Rhea a nervous glance at the advice before focusing back on Henry. Well--zher mostly looking down at Henry and zher feet as they try to follow the steps. Zhe is, indeed, very tense--though they seem more afraid of looking silly and being seen than they are afraid of Henry. There's the occasional anxious glance out at the crowd around them to check if anyone is staring. "I don't... know if you can keep me from looking silly..."
"Even if you do, nobody worth paying attention to will hold it against you, or tease you for it." Eyrgjafa reassures. "No matter how skilled they are, everybody had to start out by making mistakes."
Rhea nods in agreement, waving a hand. "There are no eyes here that matter," she promises Finley. "Close your eyes, let the music wash over you, to take you away."
"Just...hold on, and trust me." Henry's had nervous partners before. He's actually very good at dealing with someone who doesn't know how to dance; how to make them look good, how to not trip them up with anything too difficult all at once. Every motion is well-telegraphed, and there's the occasional verbal cue: step left, closer, slow down.
It's... well. It's not much. But after a minute or so they do seem to relax slowly. The movements are clumsy and zhe stumbles often, but eventually falls into a more trusting sort of motion--letting Henry direct how zhe moves and where they go. Zhe even stops glancing out at the crowd, though zher eyes don't lift past Henry's chest, cause they're way too nervous to actually look him in the eyes.
Resting her chin on Rhea's shoulder, Eyrgjafa smiles softly. "I didn't expect this to be how we spent our night, but I'm glad I dragged you out here anyway."
"This is the best way I could have spent my night," she murmurs against Eyr's cheek, smiling delightedly at Finley learning to dance. "The perfect homecoming. I missed you so very much."
Finley might be awkward, but the pair of them together look like they belong on the dance floor, with every stumble accounted for, every cautious pause turned into something dramatic. "If you wanted to do this more often, you know. I'm around. You won't get better, if you don't try."
Finley is looking rather dazed, by this point. Swooning? Definitely. In zher awkward sort of way. When they finally manage to look up past Henry's chest, zher dark eyes are practically filled with sparkling cartoon stars and hearts. "Really? Y-you'd... really want to...?"
"I missed you too, systir mín," Eyrgjafa murmurs back. "You'll have to tell me about all the things you got up to at some point. Oh, and I need to introduce you to Mina. I think you'll love her."
"It's a safe bet; I've rarely met anyone I didn't love," she laughs, making a happy humming noise. She blatantly watches Fin and Henry's happy moment, soaking it up with sheer delight. "Ah, watching someone dancing, learning to dance. Delicious."
Henry nods. "Why would I lie about that? I like this sort of thing, yanno? And sharing it with other people. It's what I'm good for. And I feel...you're still tense. You're probably always tense, huh? Kid, you gotta find something that relaxes you."
There's a brief glance at Rhea and Eyrgjafa. "Offer extends to you two, too. Any time you want a partner to dance with, let me know."
"Oh... Um... Okay. I'd--I'd like that?" Finley murmurs. They seem about to say more, but... stiffled giggles starts to bubble up out of zher throat in that nervous but excited way a fangirling teenager giggles when around a famous boy band member. Zhe lets go of his hand to clamp over the mask to try to stiffle it, head dipping. It takes a moment for the giggles to pass, and now they're definitely not looking Henry in the eyes. "S-some things... relax me..."
Eyrgjafa chuckles quietly. "I'm not much of a dancer, but okay. I'm sure Rhea would be more than happy to take you up on that offer, too." Finley's giggles get zhem a glance. "Yeah? What kind of things?"
"Oh yes; I don't think you realize what you're agreeing to," purrs Rhea, laughing; at Finley's giggly reaction she makes a delighted sound of approval. "I will be sure to let you know, mon ami. Perhaps all of us together, no?"
He tilts his head slightly to one side in a vaguely birdlike manner to echo Eyrgjafa's question. "Yeah?"
"U-um..." Finley rocks on zher feet a bit, glancing between Henry and Eyrgjafa. "Reading. Playing video games. Running... blood tests?" Zhe seems to realize how weird that last one is, grimacing a little.
Eyrgjafa blinks, seeming slightly surprised. "They're something you're familiar enough that your mind can switch off while you do them, I take it?"
Rhea raises a brow, leaning in to Eyr with a puzzled expression. "....Is that last one a euphemism I don't know about?" She stage-murmurs.
"Huh, that's a dragon for you." Henry lets out a warm laugh. "Not my cuppa, but good on you to have a thing."
Finley nods to Eyrgjafa, relieved that she gets it. "Mhmm." Zhe glances back shyly towards Henry--then starts giggling softly again. Dancing might be hard if they can't even look at him without getting giggle-flustered.
"I don't think so? A work thing, I believe." Eyrgjafa murmurs back. "Zhe are a dragon, though." Odd hobbies come with the territory, for them.
"I'm... a hematologist," Finley adds softly to Rhea, once the giggle-burst passes.
"Oh mon petit, what a job!" She seems positively delighted by this, that Fin is doing something smart people do. "What is your focus, then? You must be terribly smart."
Henry brings the dance to a close with one final twirl offered to Finley. "Huh. Wait, is it 'zhe are' or 'zhe is'? I'd been using the latter mostly, but I'm old and crusty, and could be wrong."
"That's... a good question. Finley?"
The twirl makes zhem stumble a bit, but there's a look of raw delight that sparkles in zher eyes afterwards, staring down at Henry's feet for a moment before zher hands lower and stuff deeply into zher coat pockets again. "Zhe is," Finley murmurs shyly. Zhe steps closer to Eyrgjafa again, on her other side. "Focus? Um... I work at a hospital running blood tests. Mostly... just... normal tests, b-but sometimes if there's... abnormalities, I get to study them and find out what is wrong..."
Rhea waves a hand, stretching; she lifts her chin towards a cozy booth. "Let's go and sit, so that we can know each other better. I can take a break from dancing." She sashays that-a-way.
"Zhe is, I'll remember that. Sorry to look like a twit, needing to ask things like that." As Rhea absconds to the booth, Henry follows that sweet sashay, a smirk settling on his lips.
"English grammar is confusing," Eyrgjafa laments, following Rhea willingly. "Every time I think I have it mastered I learn some new rule."
"N-no--it's okay," Finley assures. "Not very many people use pronouns like that. It's okay to not know, so long as you... want to learn..." Zhe follows the others over to the booth, sliding in beside Eyrgjafa if possible.
Rhea drapes herself in one side of the booth like a queen assuming her throne, arranging herself in stately comfort. She smirks at Henry, patting the seat beside her in invitation. "What is the most interesting thing you have found in your work, Finley?"
Henry does slot himself in beside Rhea comfortably, one hand sliding around her waist unless she rebuffs the contact.
Eyrgjafa is happy to take the seat opposite Rhea, letting Finley be at the open end of the booth next to her.
"...Um..." Finley considers that for a few seconds, brows knitting in thought. "I think--um, I studied some samples of... someone with severe Hairy Cell Leukemia. It was very interesting."
As if Rhea would ever rebuff contact! She makes a chirping little noise of encouragement, fitting herself into Henry's side with languid ease. Once settled, she devotes her attention to Finley. "With what?! Hairy Cell Leukemia; what is that?"
Henry also leans in to listen, leaning into the Daeva like a proper sweet piece of arm candy, clearly as lost with the medical stuff as she is.
"It's... a type of cancer that effects blood cells. It makes your bone marrow produce too many lymphocytes. Which normally... are good for you, and help you fight infection, b-but... Someone with Hairy Cell Leukemia has too many, and they're deformed."
Eyrgjafa seems interested, but not much more knowledgeable about medical stuff than Rhea or Henry. She might be a Dragon, but she's a lot better at the occult side than the sciency.
"Huh," Rhea notes, shaking her head in slow amazement. "What things we've learned over the years. And you, mon ami?" She nudges Henry in the ribs, grinning. "Are you a brilliant scientist as well?"
"Oh, no, not at all. I leave that to people smarter than me. I'm an errand boy for Okorafor and Kan, when I'm not dancing."
Which is weird, that a member of the Invictus, even the least reverent one, would be part of a family run by Carthians.
Finley does give Henry a curious half-glance at the mention of his family, but zhe doesn't comment.
Eyrgjafa frowns slightly. "Intelligence comes in many forms, Henry. That yours is not suited to academic work doesn't make it any less valid."
"Ah, but in a room fulla those of you who are, I'm bound to feel like the dumb one. It's alright, though. I know what I'm about." He waves a hand to dismiss Eyrgjafa's comment, waving it away like so much smoke.
Finley hesitates, not seeming to know what to say, but when Henry waves away the comment they stay quiet.
Well, until zher phone beeps, and zhe pulls it out to poke at. "Mm... Work calling..." Zhe stands. "Nice... seeing all of you," zhe murmurs, then turns to slip off into the crowds.
Eyrgjafa's frown intensifies at Henry's response, but she doesn't press the topic, instead glancing at Finley as she rises. "Pleasure talking to you as always."
Rhea bids Finley a fond farewell; once zhe has escaped, she turns her attention on Henry, chin lifting with an imperious rise of one eyebrow. "And what, exactly, are you about - aside from underselling, mmm?"
He gives Rhea a long, wary look. "I've told you, already. I'm all about dancing. Just a pretty boy with a little rhythm."
"Well, you're definitely good at dancing, at least." Eyrgjafa interjects, stepping on Rhea's foot just hard enough to be noticeable. "What's your preferred style again? Swing, right?"
"Oh fine," she replies, lifting a hand to his cheek to push his face away playfully. "Fine, fine, I will consider you simply my pretty dance partner. I am certainly content."
"Electroswing, these nights. Though my dance partner for competitions is big into Latin dance, so I'm also definitely good with those. And I can do a lot with ballroom, had enough time to practice there. Jive, foxtrot. I've been picking up popping and locking, some, though I'm not going to end up a full breakdancer anytime soon..." This is back in his comfort zone, at least, and he relaxes enough to really show how tense he was for a moment there.
"Yeah? I'm not especially familiar with that last one, what's it look like?"
Once Rhea feels the tension in his frame dissipate; she relents; she arranges herself to lounge back against Henry without a motive towards interrogation, settling a hand on his thigh. She squeezes once -perhaps an apology, perhaps encouragement. Perhaps simply a penchant for thighs.
He gives Rhea a small sidelong glance before answering the question. "Popping and locking are both hip-hop styles that involve fine muscle control, freezing in the middle of tight movements to create an illusion of being almost machine-like, because-a the level of precision. Locking came out of funk dance styles, whereas popping grew outta the Boogaloo movement, but the styles work really well in conjunction."
Eyrgjafa glances between the other two curiously before responding. "I'll have to watch you at it sometime, then."
Rhea does listen to the talk of dance intently; her passion for it is clearly ingrained in her very being. "A newer style, then?" She sighs wistfully. "I did so love Boogaloo, I must admit."
"So, popping takes a lot of the posing from Boogaloo and exaggerates it. You end up jerking your muscles real quick to hit each pose hard and fast. There's even a substyle called 'animation' that's about looking like a stop motion video as you dance. It's pretty awesome. I bet you'd be good at it, too--you seem like you've got the muscle control from belly dancing? A lot of the isolation work that goes into that would be useful leading into popping and locking both."
"New style for you, then, Rhea?" Eyrgjafa asks curiously. "You are pretty good at dancing, it might be the kind of thing you pick up easily."
Rhea laughs a little, lifting her free hand to pat the steel-boned expanse of her belly. "I do, after years of isolations," she groans, wrinkling her nose. "It seems like they would be easily interchangeable, I agree. I can snap to each individual position, even if all I do is move my hips or my belly. It would be something new to try, how exciting!"
"I can teach. If you'd like. Call it my cover fee for visiting Penny Dreadful, maybe." His grin comes back out, full-force.
Eyrgjafa snickers softly. "New things are always good," she agrees. "They're how we keep our existence interesting."
Rhea claps her hands and then clasps them together beneath her chin, gazing up at Henry with genuine delight. "I would love that! And don't be ridiculous, I would hardly charge you cover in the first place," she scoffs. "What sort of fashion does one wear for popping and locking? Hip hop?"
"Yes, hip hop, generally. Though when you're learning, it doesn't matter so much. Wear what's comfortable to learn in." He shrugs.
"I can't wait to see you going all-out on hip hop fashion, systir mín," Eyrgjafa teases. "Though I'm sure you'd look good in it."
"I do love any excuse to get a new wardrobe," she laughs, happy to make fun of herself.
Henevi strolls into Rainbow Road like she owns the place and everyone should just make way for her, and the thing about waking with that kind of attitude is that people tend to do so. She's heading toward the bar at first, but her Beast recognizes the presence of others and draws her attention their way, bringing her to a stop for a moment before she changes direction and heads for the other kindred.
Henry grins. "Well, far be it from me to try to persuade someone not to treat themselves. Doll yourself up as you like."
Sensing Henevi's beast, Eyrgjafa glances up, before breaking into a smile as she recognises the other Daeva, patting the seat next to her invitingly. "How've you been?"
"Oh, don't worry - I do. Often, with enthusiasm," she snickers, her attention drifting to the new arrival. When she does recognize Henevi, a hopeful gasp escapes her; her hands clasp between her breasts, and she leans forward. "Henevi? Is it you!?"
As Henevi is reaching the table she raises her arms up and exclaims in pure delight, "Eyrgjafa, Rhea, my lovelies, I didn't expect to run into you both here. You especially, Rhea!" She starts things out by giving Rhea a long, tight hug, then kisses her on both cheeks. "I haven't seen that lovely face in far too long. You'll forgive me if there are tears, right?"
Henry, for what it's worth, moves out of the booth the moment he sees a hug is going to happen, slipping out from between the Acolytes like the slippery snake he is and moving to Eyrgjafa's side of the booth.
"Rhea, holding something against her family? That'll be the day." Eyrgjafa jokes. "Hopefully she's back for good, though."
She doesn't make a sound; just stands up in the booth, steps on the table, and leaps into Henevi's arms. The other Daeva is lavished with kisses to both cheeks. "Mon cher, mon cher!" She laughs, clasping Henevi's face between her hands. "I shall never leave again, I promise, I swear it. I have missed you and my dear Eyrgjafa so much." She releases Henevi long enough for the woman to arrange herself in the booth - and then Rhea is right there, nestling into her side.
"I'm far too old to ever think of things as for good," Henevi says with a laugh as she revels in the affection being heaped upon her by her cousin. "Let's just hope that we stay together a good long time before someone inevitably decides somewhere else sounds lovely in a century or two." With Henry sliding into the booth on the other side, with Eyr, Henevi settles for blowing Eyrgjafa a kiss and then sliding in next to Rhea, where she leans her head on the Serpent's shoulder, but looks at Henry. "I hope you don't mind all that, but we haven't seen each other in... how long, Rhea love?"
"Oh, it's fine, don't worry. Besides, I think if Rhea skipped town, I'd miss her almost as much, and I only just met her." His grin is crooked and he tips his hat at Henevi.
"Well, I don't plan on leaving Philadelphia anytime soon, for what that's worth." Eyrgjafa admits, before smirking mischievously. "In a couple of centuries my answer might be different, though."
"Oh, it's been years and years, this last time," Rhea sighs, her expression turning rueful. "The wanderlust took hold, I couldn't stand it." She beams a smile to Henry at the compliment, dipping her head to one side in acknowledgement. Her arms twine idly around Henevi, seemingly content to sit entangled with her just so. "I feel like it's time for me to settle down, anyway."
"Then she's been putting the charm on you already?" Henevi asks with a laugh. "I can't say that I'm surprised. Has she tried to get you to dance with her yet?" She looks delighted by the moment's proximity, and it shows in the beaming smile she gives Henry. "I'm Henevi."
"Oh, that's a game of who's-on-first waiting to happen. I'm Henry. And no, Rhea hasn't tried to get me to dance. She and I did done do the dancing." Henry's laugh is warm and comes easily. "I'd hop with that dame anyday."
"Henry likes dancing, so that's not especially saying much," Eyrgjafa points out. "What've you been up to, Henevi? It's been a while since we ran into each other."
Rhea tips her nose up in an expression of taking offense; she's still smiling, however, which suggests she's not all that put out. "I will have you know, mon cher, that Henry is right; I did not have to beg, cajole, nor seduce. So I've decided to keep him," she announces imperiously.
Enter Anna-Marie downstage. She's dressed conservatively for her though still over dressed for the place. A black pantsuit with a necktie, that is let hang just loose enough to look like a party is due, combined with her cane with a silver handle. She's blushed and when she feels the other predators in the room, she lets out a loud, "Ah! Mister Moynihan!"
She prances over, a perfect smile on her face. "And Ms. Eyrgjafa too! A treat for the ages! And, oh dear, I'm afraid I'm at a loss for the rest of you. Commissioner Anna-Marie Cordray. Of the Invictus."
"Oh, you're a dancer too?" Henevi asks Henry, which is definitely going to get confusing at some point. "Then it's simply serendipity that you met so quickly. I'm so glad to hear it." She puts her arms around Rhea and squeezes gently. "We'll have to go," she glances at Henry, "cut a rug or whatever it is people say, later." For now, there's Anna-Marie, and Henevi replies to her introduction in a bored tone, "I'm Henevi, of enough tact to be mindful of what I say where."
Henry sits up slightly as Anna-Marie comes into sight, posture straightening like a student not sure if he's about to be in trouble or not. "Madame Cordray."
Rhea's smile sharpens, spreading ear to ear at the new arrival. She rakes her hair back from her face to smile brightly up at Anne-Marie. "Oh Commissioner, the pleasure is mine. My name is Rhea Alexander. Circle." She extends out a hand. Palm down.
Eyrgjafa very carefully does not snicker at Henevi's response to Anna-Marie's posturing. Okay, maybe a little. Rhea's reaction definitely gets a chuckle out of her fellow Septemi, however. "Cordray. How nice to see you braving the public again."
"My deepest apologies, my dear Player. I simply found it not delicate to shout your title across this establishment. Player unfortunately has other connotations in this setting," Anna-Marie says, smiling at Henry. Anyone familiar with her tells knows that she wants something from him.
And then, with a deep bow, kisses Rhea's hand. She knows how to be polite. "Lovely to meet the two of you! Do you have any Circle titles you wish me to append to your name or will Ms. do?"
"And braving the public isn't exactly fearsome now. I don't know if you've heard but I'm on tap to help resolve our little Ninevite problem."
"Don't hate the Player, Madame Cordray. Hate the game." It's a halfhearted sort of joke, and he doesn't relax any.
"Oh, no," she assures Anne-Marie warmly, slipping her hand free of the Invictus' grasp. "Simply Rhea will do; I'm afraid I don't hold much stock in titles."
Henevi laughs softly at Henry's halfhearted joke, glances over at Anna-Marie but doesn't look her in the face, and then shifts so that she's still leaning against Rhea, but can slide fingers through her hair. "What is it that you're being asked to do to help resolve that situation?"
Eyrgjafa smiles politely at Henry's weak joke, but doesn't react otherwise. "Yes, I'm sure we're all delighted to learn that."
"Oh Player Moynihan you are a treat," Anna-Marie says, buttering him up best she knows how. "Do you mind if I have a seat? I'm afraid I've been running about a bit too much this fine night." She throws a wink in Rhea's direction at that last part.
"And Ms. Eyrgjafa, when there is one fewer problem between you and a normal life or whatever you desire, you will thank me. And no one needed ask me. The Invictus remove threats that the Sakima is too passive to deal with. Sir Knight Phillips and I are going to investigate some of their last known locations. Player Moynihan, you are more than welcome to accompany if you wish to keep the night safe for your friends and dance partners."
"But no pressure, Henry," Rhea drawls, her expression dancing with amusement.
"You, uh. Think I'm really the sort of person you'd want along for something like that?" He gestures up and down himself sheepishly.
"I suppose that if Eyrgjafa and Henry want to scoot in to make room for you in the booth, they can do so," Henevi says dryly. "Or you can have my seat, if Rhea doesn't mind sitting next to you. I think I'm going to go find something to drink, instead." She starts sliding out of the booth.
"How... noble of you." Eyrgjafa glances at Henry, frowning slightly, but doesn't say anything in direct response to his question. She doesn't seem at all interested in making room for Anna-Marie to sit.
Rhea sits back, affecting a pout at Henevi so thorough that even her bottom lip sets to trembling. "Who am I supposed to sit with if you le- never mind," drawls Rhea; her gaze tracks a young man dancing, and she's up and sliding out of the booth. "I'll be back. Scratching an itch," she murmurs, and she's off across the dancefloor.
"Ah, farewell, my friends," Anna-Marie says, before whipping out her phone. "Ah, my apologies. I do have to be going. I'm afraid my work is never done. Henry, do contact me or Sir Knight Phillips. Your charm will be extremely useful on the job to come. Plus it would be nice to know you give a damn about this city." And with that she exits, humming a jaunty tune.
The tension in Henry remains, even after Anna-Marie has exited; he's sitting very straight, wearing a neutral mask-face.
Eyrgjafa sighs. "Welp, that sure was a thing." She glances at Henry. "You okay?"
"I'm fine." A blatant, rather direct lie.
"Are you sure? We don't have to talk about it here, if you don't want to." Eyrgjafa is offering the other vampire a clear out.
He glances at Eyrgjafa. "I really shouldn't. Talk about it, I mean? She's what we're supposed to be like, you know."
"What, a total bitch?" Eyrgjafa seems to be considering her next words carefully. "Because no offense, Henry, but I rather prefer you as you are."
He lets out a small laugh, setting both hands on the table and looking at them now, instead of her. "That's kind of you, doll."
Eyrgjafa gently places one hand on top of his. "That it is kind does not make it untrue."
No matter what happened in the last half hour so, one thing can be certain: Rhea was still happy to have a celebratory bathroom quickie. She emerges from the bathrooms fresh as Spring, breezing back to her compatriots with a satisfied, serene air. Without preamble, she climbs into the booth and drapes herself across Henry like an effectionate, curvy sloth.
He goes still again when touched by Eyrgjafa, and doesn't really move when slothed on.
Eyrgjafa carefully retracts the hand she'd laid on Henry's in favour of gently stroking Rhea's hair, buying time to figure out how to change the topic. "You went to Spain while you were away, right, Rhea? What was that like?"
Rhea peers up at Henry and then slides to sit sideways, head canting to one side. She frowns, tracing a finger idly at the edge of his mouth. "Whenever you get tired of being my throne, mon ami, simply tell me and I will lamprey to a different darling." She gives him a warm smile, laying a hand against Henry's cheek. "All right?"
She resumes her leaning back against Eyrgjafa, gaze going half-lidded at having her hair played with. "I did, yes. Andalusia mostly; I took a sailboat from Valencia to Lisbon, stopping at every port I could." She sighs dreamily, her tone vibrant with memory. "Oh, the people were so passionate and alive, with bright smiles. So eager to share a bottle of wine. They had this exquisite vinho verde there, cool and crisp. Pale green, tasting like forgotten spring afternoons."
"It's fine, Rhea. I'm fine." Still not bothering to put any real feeling in it.
Eyrgjafa's hand stills momentarily as she squints at Henry. "Is this a discussion you don't want to have in this space, don't want to have with us, or both?"
He hesitates. "I...uh. I mean, here's definitely not the place for it. It's not a big deal. I'm sorry."
"We can drop the topic, then." She pauses for a moment, letting her think of something else. "How is your work for Okorafor & Kan going?"
Rhea speaks no further on the topic, but she does slide across the booth to stretch out there. She cups her chin in one hand, large, dark eyes settling thoughtfully on Henry.
"Eh, not bad. It gets me out and about, talking to people. I'm mostly organizing files and getting people to sign papers and legwork like that, that they're too important to handle themselves."
"Oh? Any interesting clients that you're allowed to tell us about?"
Lethia Rose walks in through the front door arm in arm with a brunette woman who appears to be in her early 20's. When the Visigoth spots the other vampires she lights up a little, and sends the other woman over to the bar. She practically sashays her way over, and takes a free seat in the booth. "Evening all, what's shaking?"
Rhea sits up so that there's room for Lethia, smiling brightly; she gestures between the three. "Oh, just learning the ins and outs of one another. I'm Rhea Alexander," she announces, offering her hand - vertical, as if to shake rather than kiss.
"I can't tell you about them, Eyr!" He lets out a bit of a laugh, finally beginning to thaw and relax again, before glancing up at Lethia. "Hey, you. Not much on my end. What's cooking with you?"
"Why do you think I included that caveat, Henry?" Eyrgjafa seems more amused than disappointed by his answer, though, as she glances at Lethia. "Reconnecting with old companions. Dancing. You?"
Lethia takes the hand and returns the shake with a firm grip and a sparkling smile. "Lethia Rose, Circle, and owner of the Succubus Club. Pleasure to meet you."
Turning to face everyone she says, "Me? I'm out on a date with the girlfriend, like real people do. Isn't it cute?"
The serpent is roused with interest at mention of something so divine as a Succubus Club; Rhea's eyes light with amber curiosity as she rakes her hair back. "I simply must know more about your business, my newfound friend."
"Yeah, I guess it's cute, but then shouldn't you be with her instead of hanging out with us? That's how dates work, right?" Blink-blink.
"I mean, I haven't dated in a while, but I'm led to believe so, yes." Eyrgjafa glances at Rhea. "It's pretty fun, I'll have to take you there sometime."
As if by magic, the brunette mentioned previously appears with two drinks in hand, a red one for Lethia and a blue one for herself, and takes a seat on Lethia's lap. She blink-blinks back at Henry.
Lethia wraps an arm around the woman and takes her own drink. "The Succubus Club is a nightclub. Lots of dancing, lots of electronica, lots of drugs that I don't officially acknowledge, and LOTS of screwing in private rooms. This," she indicates the woman on her lap, "Is the illustrious manager, Abigail Williams."
"It certainly sounds like something I would enjoy," Rhea tells Eyrgjafa, her lips curling into a feline smile; she gives her broodmate a wink before shifting her attention back to Lethia. "Three out of four hobbies isn't terrible, and I can learn to like electronica."
Blink-blink-blink. Henry nods at Abigail. "Uh. Hi."
"I'm not at all surprised, somehow," Eyrgjafa drawls, winking back at her sister, before glancing at Lethia. And, by extension, the woman on her lap. "Evening, Ms. Williams."
Abigail nods back, and says in a soft voice. "Good evening Mister Henry, Miss Eyrgjafa."
Lethia, meanwhile, talks to Rhea. "We offer most equipment for most things. And soundproofed room for people like us. What kind of music do you like then?"
"Oh, I like all different kinds - from what I recall, electronica has divine rhythm, and that's really all I need. I relish feeling the beat in my bones," she admits with glee, practically curling her toes as she stretches both arms languidly.
He gives Rhea a lopsided grin. "Allow me to pretend to be shocked by this."
Eyrgjafa snickers quietly. "It's almost like you've met her. Oh, wait."
Lethia grins widely. "My kind of person then."
She turns her grin on Henry, reaching her hands across the table; she scrabbles them at him in vaguely threatening grabby-hands. "So funny, you two! I am a simple creature of dynamic pleasures; how dare you."
And he puts his hands in hers, letting her grabby all she likes.
"Well, I can't speak for Henry, but I dare because you know I don't mean anything by it, systir mín." Eyrgjafa smiles at the other Septemi. "Also that you might seem simple, but you have all sorts of hidden depths."
Lethia takes a sip of her drink and watches the two mock fight. She makes a face, and swaps her drink with Abigail's. "So, how long have you lived in Philly, Rhea? I feel like your name is familiar, but I can't quite place it."
Victory! She knots their hands together and gives them a squeeze...and of course, an invitation. She stands, hops back across the tabletop, and reclaims her rightful throne on Henry's lap. "Isn't that always the way? Those who think themselves the most simple turn out to bear layers they never knew they had," she tells Erygjafa with affection. "And yes, of course I know - I live for your teasing." She slides her attention back to Lethia, then. "Oh, I lived here a long time ago. I've decided to move back."
Henry glances at Eyrgjafa briefly, tilting his head to one side, before he's occupied with Rhea again. "Bwuh!" But he wraps his arms around her waist gently.
Eyrgjafa blinks as Rhea is suddenly on her side of the table again. "I should hope so, too." She returns Henry's glance, arching an eyebrow at the Gangrel.
"Hmm, that's probably it. I've been here since forever, but I'm now starting to be active in the city again." Lethia takes a sip of her new drink, then gives Abigail an exasperated look before handing it back. Abigail looks pleased as she drinks her blue drink.
"Are you enjoying it? I always hate that weird purgatory where you're getting back into the swing of things."
He hesitates at that raised eyebrow, saying nothing very loudly. "..."
"...is there something you want to say, Henry?"
Lethia nods. "I'm definitely enjoying it. I've got Abby here keeping me in line, and the club's been keeping me occupied enough to stay out of trouble. Plus I've been on a reading kick, researching old stories about mermaids in my free time."
"Mermaids! What a topic; I can't imagine that would be boring." She's still smiling, radiating an aura of genuine enthusiasm and interest in the trio. She cups her chin in her palm, leaning forward to rest her elbow on the table. "What is the most interesting thing you've learned about mermaids?"
"Sometimes, it's not a matter of people thinking they're simple, you know? A simple garden snake blends in with the grass better than an albino boa constrictor. Not that, of course, Rhea's any kind of garden snake. More like a cobra, maybe."
Eyrgjafa squints at Henry. "I assume you're the garden snake in this metaphor?" She glances at Lethia, looking curious as to whether she's learnt anything new since the last time they met.
Lethia sighs. "Just the usual nonsense. They're vicious, man-eating monsters, who sing people to their death on the rocks."
Rhea cocks her head, considering Henry's comparison with a thoughtful moue. "A cobra," she repeats, drawling, "That is a beautiful serpent. And they dance, too."
"Me? I'm hardly a worm." But he smiles as he says it, and offers Rhea a gentle squeeze.
"If you say so." Eyrgjafa shrugs slightly, before hmmming. "If Rhea's a cobra, I wonder what kind of serpent I would be, in this metaphor." Definitely just a metaphor. Not anything else.
Lethia says quite proudly, "I'd be an anaconda."
"One of the emerald-green ones," Rhea pipes up, glancing sidelong at her sister. "Serene and beautiful, kept in temples the world over to represent the wisdom of gods."
"Okay, if I'm being honest about snakes? Maybe I'd be more like a pygmy rattlesnake." He sits back against the booth, adjusting Rhea a tad on his lap for comfort as one of his legs starts to fall asleep. That's the issue with being Blushed, having to worry about circulation.
"Serene, beautiful, and representing the wisdom of the gods? I can live with that," Eyrgjafa grins at Rhea. Henry's serious answer gets a raised eyebrow. "Interesting choice."
"Oh. We have to be honest about it?" Lethia thinks for a moment. "Probably an asp, or some incredibly brightly colored one that's incredibly poisonous."
"Good," she tells Eyrgjafa, waving her hands in a mystical pattern. "I have spoken, thus, it is so," she intones dramatically, letting her eyes roll up in her head so that only the whites show.
"Venomous. Foods are poisonous, snakes are venomous."
Eyrgjafa chuckles quietly at Rhea's acting, before turning her focus to Henry. "Based on whether you bite it or it bites you, right?"
Lethia shrugs dismissively. "English isn't my first language, gimme a break. Besides, I can be both."
"I'm not sure I'm either one," Rhea admits, idly braiding a lock of her long, black hair. "Poisonous or venomous."
"If you bite it and you die, it is poisonous. If it bites you and you die, it's venomous. If it bites you and it dies, you're poisonous. That's how it works, yeah." He nods at Eyrgjafa.
"It's not mine either, but fair enough." Eyrgjafa shrugs back at Lethia. "I'm a language nerd, though." She glances at Rhea. "Probably one that cares a great deal about family, but I'm no ophidiologist."
"One that wraps around other people maybe?" Lethia suggests for Rhea. This earns her a tap on the head from Abby.
"I once performed before a packed house wearing nothing but a large...python? Boa? I'm not sure. The ones that get very large and squeeze things to death. Anyway, they fed it laudanum so it would be sleepy." She sighs fondly. "She was a lovely dance partner. Not handsy at all." Rhea tries desperately to keep from losing her straight face. She fails, snorting a giggle; she claps a hand over her mouth to try and hold it in, but can't help laughing.
"Sounds like a boa constrictor, yes." Henry nods slightly.
Eyrgjafa snorts at Rhea's joke. "That was while you were in Paris, right?"
Lethia snickers at the joke. "Sounds like a fun time. You dance with no clothes often?"
"Oui, mon cher," she purrs, her smile turning fond with memory. "That was somewhat later in my career, as it were. When everyone got much less persnickety about not having any clothes on." Rhea tilts her head at Lethia, puzzled. "Of course. Don't you?"
Henry lightly pats Rhea's thigh a couple times--more a tap-tap than a fondle. "I'm going to head out, dolls. Lemme up?"
"I mean, speaking for myself, dancing skyclad is something I tend to reserve for worship, but you do you, systir mín." Eyrgjafa smiles, before glancing at the Gangrel. "See you around, Henry."
"Less dancing, more running through the woods, but I do go naked fairly frequently." Lethia shrugs. "No judgement from me, obviously. Just wanted to know your views on the matter. Later Henry, don't let Anna-Marie get to you too much!"
She stretches languidly, unfurling from Henry's lap to spill free of the booth. "I should do that too, sadly. I'm getting restless, we've sat still for too long." She smiles slyly at Eyrgjafa, replying, "Oh, oui, I devote such a sight to the Gods as well. But why deprive everyone else?"
"I'm trying, Lethia. I am trying. But she wants me as a faithful tool...wouldn't that get to you?" And with that, he tips his hat to all of them, heading for the exit.
"Oh, well, if you don't want to deprive everyone else... want to take me back to your Haven? I don't think I've visited there yet." Eyrgjafa smirks at Rhea.
Lethia rolls her eyes. "You two have fun, I have a certain someone to get back at. Nice meeting you Rhea."
"Of course," she drawls, offering her arm out to Eyrgjafa. "I've had rooms set up for you, mon cher. At your disposal, of course." She turns back to Lethia, skimming her fingers over the other Daeva's arm. "Enjoy your date, darling. Don't do anything I wouldn't." She winks, blows a kiss, and moves to draw Eyrgjafa off for slumber party hijinks.
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