<em>The deviless tenses even more at the light touch at first, but, understanding the unspoken command of her mistress, or, what she interprets as a command, forces herself to relax a little, her spines retracting a little. The tulani, if she notices, politely avoids mentioning it.<br/><br/>"A tad, but I'll order something for myself as well."<br/><br/>She waves over the barmaid, a lovely buxom, blonde nymph, dressed in a moderately revealing outfit, though, for a city such as this, and next to the nudity of Reaver and Nightshade, it comes off as fairly modest. She cheerfully navigates the tables and chairs and hands of the more touchy patrons with grace and almost playful ease.<br/><br/>"How may I serve you today?"<br/><br/>The celestial smiles.<br/><br/>"I'll have your finest ambrosia. Atelia, you and your companions? It's on me, whatever you desire."<br/><br/>After Atelia orders, each of her fiends lists their preference. Reaver, in her quiet, controlled manner, responds politely.<br/><br/>"Liquid pain, please."<br/><br/>Bonesaw gives a toothy, hungry grin, his eyes having not missed Reaver's clear discomfort.<br/><br/>"Desecrated devil's blood. Preferably Hamatula."<br/><br/>Nightshade, however, has been looking up and down at the nymph in an almost predatory way, as if gauging her. A pink tongue darts across her lips as her smouldering stare meets the wide, blue, almost scared gaze of the nymph.<br/><br/>"Nymph's essence, please. As fresh as possible..."</em>