Naiobe spares no hungry glance toward Felicity, sitting quietly at the table with her hands folded properly in her lap. She almost seems not to belong there, in the chaos and the decadence, an oasis of seemingly demure femininity between Brom's leering and the twins' whispering. She can catch a word or two of what Brynn says to Bryan, but she can't hear Bryan's response. Probably just as well.<br/><br/>When Felicity reaches her cup, Naiobe raises her glance just enough to spy the naked flesh by her shoulder. She smiles a chilly smile, full of malice and mischief but without mirth. "Stop," she commands softly, once Felicity has filled her cup roughly half way. "I don't want much more, so pour slowly." She leans forward to peer into her cup, forcing Felicity to be much more careful with the heavy jug. "Slower. Slower.<em>Slower</em>." And god help Felicity if her hand starts to shake ...