The drow smiles faintly.  "Of course he did-- that's much nicer.  These are from his payment, right?"  She dips her face closer to his so that he can smell the mint leaves with which she scours her teeth.  "And, you say 'Marcus'... you mean Magus, no?"  she chuckles softly, her demeanor vixenish, as she shifts very subtly over his torso, along his lower body.  "Magus had you recruit June for him... always room for a whore who can be anything."  Jealousy again.  Bitter poison deep in her gut.  It's distant, she can shut it out.  Why this jealousy?<br/><br/>Dismissing the distant pangs, she focuses on the handsome, blood-streaming face below her.  "Where is this farm, Roland?  You seen, she owes now, for what she has done.  It will not come back on you... she will pay, and you will profit.  All this... unpleasantness... will be forgotten."  She shrugs her shoulders coyly, draws up the fingers of one hand and the long, wicked-looking dagger to pantomime shooting arrows.  "I can even make it up to you, ease your suff'ring a bit."  She lifts one slender white eyebrow in a suggestive quirk.