The magistrate's stealing a glance at her décolleté amused Ciara, and a hint of this amusement mingled with the sensual allure with which her eyes were alive. She could, without embarrassment or challenge, hold any gaze for as long as it would last, did feel curious, not flustered, and never searched for something to say or an excuse to look away. The intimacy of a gaze appealed to her, she knew her secrets safe no matter how long or deep someone looked into her, while a glimpse into another's often offered useful insight - everybody wanted something, after all. The red glow of the magistrate's eyes quite intrigued her, never had she been this close to a Drow, his beauty in all its otherness was fascinating.<br/><br/>When he released her form his inspection and dismissed them all, she politely inclined her head  before walking over to the door. He had already picked up his book again, but that was no reason to be rude towards a Drow, she was a mere human, nothing one ought to have airs about in this city, better to show some respect even if it would be ignored, than to fail to do so and be caught in the act. Back out in the streets, her senses embraced every sound, sight and scent they encountered, her mind reached out, her memory began storing information, collecting details like pebbles, each of which might turn out to be a gem at some point.<br/><br/>She must understand this city, how it worked, its peoples, casts, guests, merchants, soldiers, slaves, not a single creature, no matter how disregarded by others, was ever completely worthless when it came to information. She would know, she had often used the lowly to serve her means. The very fact they were hardly ever payed any attention made them formidable tools. They walked along the streets and she was quite content to absorb, for now. Being at the bottom of society once more, although no at all desirable, did not oppress her. She had been there, and then had risen high, why shouldn't she do the same again?<br/><br/>Of course, she might as well end up enslaved or dead, such was life, such were its risks, she had never felt safe, no matter in which position, with good reason, too, of this she was convinced, and this city made little difference when it came to how she felt. She quite liked the new challenge, and marvelled at all this beauty, ugliness, strangeness. At Hannibal's words, she slowed down and looked up at him. She had not forgotten the smirk and the glance he had cast her, not that she had needed such a reminder of how he felt about her.<br/><br/>"As one of my bodyguards, why don't you find out?" Her tone was even, almost playful, she had lingered on the word bodyguard, her eyes seeking his, what an irony, amusing, even, that what he professed to be was the very opposite of what he wanted to be, in her case - as in most others, probably. "Approach someone suitable and make inquiries, if you cannot find it yourself." She added dismissively, with a hint of impatience in her voice, her official role as his employer, his mistress, speaking now, not her self. Hopefully, he could tell the difference by now.