The fox seemed to express more nonverbal outrage at being labelled a 'bitch' than she did at being leashed like an animal, and, as soon as the drow dropped her, shook her soaked coat with as much emphasis as she could muster. Then Sae'Ka was dripping, too.<em>Harlot</em>, said the fox's narrowed stare.<br/><br/>She tried to ignore the men and their plotting, looking wet and sulky, until Donovan voiced the idea of the sewer escape. She nearly ripped the skin off the drow's palm with how hard she hit the end of the leash, claws scrabbling loudly against the stone floor as she pulled back in the direction of the bedroom.<em>No no no no NOOOOOO</em>, everyone gathered could clearly 'hear,' though the fox didn't actually speak. The sewer? Aza would rather the three idiot intruders died horrible slow bloody deaths on the steps of the Spire than even have to glance into the sewers. She wanted to run back to her velvet-cushioned bed. All her clothes, all her jewelry, gold plates and roasted quail and silk curtains and servants and lizards to chase...<br/><br/>The gold neckpiece lit the room like the midday desert sun. Even if they did manage to blunder their way back into the tunnels beneath the tower, it would hardly be a stealthy trip dragging the equivalent of ten sparkly lanterns behind them, echoing howls the whole way.