Naiobe does her best not to gaze too steadily upon Corwin's accompanying toy. The girl is not Corwin's type, though she is Naiobe's. While Corwin bends over her hand, Naiobe has to try to keep herself from pondering how beautifully the woman's flesh would mark. Probably she already has neat little red marks from the unaccustomed corset.<br/><br/>"Thank you, Corwin. Who's your friend?" Withdrawing her hand, Naiobe glides to her own place at dinner, wondering with no small amount of anger why her father has left her alone with this man. While powerful, Naiobe herself can only do so much, especially as a woman. What's even more frustrating than having to rely on the men around her to do anything for her is the fact that they seem disinclined to do<em>anything</em>helpful. It's going to be a long meal. Naiobe makes certain that her wine is poured into an empty cup and in her sight, then sips from it slowly. She has no interest in conversing with Corwin. Why on earth does he persist?<br/><br/>Naiobe tries not to brood.