Ianthe tensed slightly as the Camarian approached. Yet with her over-active and still-simmering imagination off and running with thoughts of being reduced to a sex-doll by this alien woman, she couldn't quite hide the blush that crept into her cheeks.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"I'd make a rotten plaything, Charla,"</span>she murmured, and sat up further.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"And don't flatter yourself into thinking this was personal. You were only ever just a job. Don't give anyone reason to hire me to come after you, and you'll never see me again. <i>Do</i>, and I promise you, next time, you'll never see me coming."</span><br/><br/>At that moment she wrapped her go-bag, by the bedside, in telekinetic energy and flung it toward the Camarian's head. She used the distraction to, despite her nudity, roll off the bed into a combat-ready crouch -- but when the bag passed right through Charla's form and bounced off the opposite wall, she smirked, and stood.<span style="color: mediumturquoise">"Nice trick. I'll have to learn that one."</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>