The bewilderment returned, but this time with a hint of disbelieving laughter.
"What the fuck?" someone voiced nearby. Gabriel muttered something in response behind Kyros, but it was too quiet to hear.

Her move to plunge into this with a full reveal was a big step, from everything being so closely guarded to the most vulnerable moment he could imagine. But if Pari of all people was willing to go all the way, he felt he should meet her there. The fragility of the moment was not lost on him-- Pari's olive branches were often tenuous-- and he feared he'd lose her again if he made a wrong move. "I mean--" he stuttered, feeling like it was wrong to watch only to remind himself this show was for him. "Yeah."

What happened? Pari responded. Did you get an answer?

Pari fought the burning of her cheeks as her nightgown fell lose, pooling around her hips. The last time she'd been this exposed in front of another person was... well, it was like wearing half a bikini, but she'd never been so self-conscious in a bikini. Context really did matter.
This is the worst, she thought miserably as his eyes drank her in; she’d put effort into dressing up around him, but her bralette was simple and white… and she was only in a bra (and a thin gown) in front of Feo. But as his gaze grew more open, revealing surprise and delight and desire and a host of other emotions that quickened her heartbeat, she found her own reluctance slowly seeping away.

Uhhh... three dots appeared for a long time, denoting her uncertainty. Weird. And no, Simona finally kicked me out. Maybe we can catch her in the evening. I'll text her that we can have a girl's night in and we don't have to talk about what happened. Maybe she'll talk to me then.

What happened??? she asked again. Did you punch him?

Listen, just let me handle it. I'll play good cop and talk to Gabriel to clear this shit up.

Pari squeezed the water out of her hair, staring at herself in the mirror. What now?
Feofil lay just beyond the door, tangled up in the sheets, his bare body a reminder of what they'd been up to just twenty minutes prior. Part of her hoped that he'd passed out while she'd been gone; the other hoped that he'd stayed awake, waiting for her return. She took a long inhale, swallowing that part as far down as it would go. She wouldn't get her hopes up -- she didn't have any hopes to get up, actually. Except one. She hoped that they weren't awkward around each other now that this thing had come to pass, but that was it.

Pari's gaze dipped to the expanse of her neck and chest and then she slowly turned, letting it canvas her back. Feofil had been gentle, as he always was. He hadn't left any marks on her skin, almost as if the last hour hadn't happened at all. That made things easier... but somehow, the thought also made her stomach twist with uncertainty. Then again what was there to be uncertain about? She was the princess of Atherdale and he was her friend, but he could also be a condescending ass who had made it clear that he wanted no part in her spotlight. If he'd really wanted to be with her, he wouldn't have run away that first time. He held her up to some expectation that she inevitably failed, or she leaned on him too much and he couldn't measure up, because at the end of the day, they were fundamentally different people. They were wrong for each other on the most foundational level and the only reason he'd submitted tonight was because they were both stretched thin; emotions had been high after the events of the morning.

None of this was going to go anywhere. She wouldn't set herself up for more disappointment.

Pari twined her hair together in a loose braid and she picked up her discarded nightgown, not bothering to put anything on underneath as she slipped it over her head. She'd hated sleeping with a bra on but had hated more the thought of bolting from the house in that vulnerable state if they were attacked. But it was highly unlikely that demons would strike the same place twice in one night, and Feofil had already gotten an eyeful. Pari glanced at herself in the mirror one last time to make sure her hair was in place and that she didn't look too rattled before opening the door and stepping outside, accompanied by a warm gust of perfumed air.

“That’s not my name,” she whined.

Rhea had found herself cornered by some lout while Leriph was off, gallivanting with some woman. She had known that she couldn’t count on him, but that didn’t stop disappointment from turning her mood sour.
“Looks like Leriph’s taking Bren tonight,” the man slurred, leaning close enough to Rhea that she could almost taste the alcohol on his breath. He had her pinned, elbow above her head and the other arm pressed against the wall near her waist. “But I can make you happy, baby.”
Rhea was tired. Sore from the fight back in Altair, scraped up and bruised, the small amount of dignity she had left curling into a ball and dying beneath the leer of this stranger whose hands were crawling too close. “Please just,” she began, turning her face away. She didn’t want to turn this into a scene. “Please leave me alone.”
“Aw, come on. Loosen up a little, can I get you a drink?”

"I mean, yeah, it was shitty, but I feel like keeping an eye on Altair is a good idea," she added, plopping down beside him. A sudden wave of loneliness washed over her, surprising in its potence. She'd missed his warmth, and it made her pause before explaining further. "Roo's boyfriend implied that the rest of the world has, or is about to experience demon problems. Altair's like ground zero. We can probably glean useful information from them. And besides, if Sparrow made it all those years, Feo and I should be fine."