"-We- always win," she agrees with Myranda. Yes. She was certain her hands would find what they grabbed for.<br/><br/>It doesn't quite matter how her hands made their way underneath his clothing, either, the triumph itself settles her. Unseen save for the motion of her hands moving beneath fabric, she works his member with mechanical efficiency and with an air of calm, the same type of calm a knitter has when they're presented with time and an abundance of yarn.<br/><br/>This pacification leads to her giving Rishi a blank state when she adds to the subject of potatoes. Perhaps she's trying to convey something to the orcish woman with her intensely blue eyes. Her hands never miss their beat (Shift. Stroke. Stroke. Milk.). This is how she waits for Rishi to respond to Ian, which might take a while, since Arty begins scheming nightshifts.