Ithi'Ka tilts her face in a reptilian gesture of study as she looks upon the elegant creation mid-room.  She studies the joints now-- yes, incredible work... but is it a golem?  She curses herself silently, as she has every day, for not having learned more before being severed from her mentor.  She shoves aside the thought before it teases memories from her mind, and opts not to stare upon it any longer, should it stare back-- much like the things in her heart.<br/><br/>"Well, at least 'she' was...<i>decisive</i>."  she says softly, the last word precise and practiced.  It's a word she enjoys, for it translates so well into her native tongue, even sounding a little like a Drow word.  She then notices the sudden uniformity of attentions as so many eyes snap to Nighshade.  Ithi'Ka finds herself looking as well, but she checks herself carefully and looks back to Hawk.  Of course, working here, the human must be firmly inured to patrons, like Ithi'Ka, eyeing his half-sister of elven blood-- though no one would dare be brazen, or rude, about it.  No... that would be suicidal. Nightshade owns this piece of the district; everyone else was just an interloper or a guest.<br/><br/>Intending to remain on the 'guest' list, Ithi'Ka leans back to rest her ass against the bar's base, the serpent-scaled hide protecting her comfortably while clinging like a wet sheen of black.  Her silvery eyes flicker out and back to life as she blinks slowly, watching the woman's descent with casual deference masking her piqued entrance.  For the Drow, seeing Lady Nightshade enter a room was one of the most profound secret joys of their professional relationship.  She wants to ask about the electrified tension in the air, but bites her tongue.  Perhaps it's because Nightshade is on edge, and her tension has spread among her warders and servants like some queen bee's pheromones, stirring them to madness with a waft of her breath, readying them to draw blood with but a brush of her long, brown hand.