<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/7nywiRN.jpg?1)</div>Mara's bows from stage center are with more of a smile than she had intended to show-- it was relief that eased her countenance, and when they lined up for their curtain call, she hopes to position herself with the opportunity to take Henry's hand for the final bow-- which she would offer, if he'll accept it, with an acknowledging nod that silently accepts that they're all in for a shitty night on stage, the way things are bound to turn.  She only hopes that, whatever strange 'creature' he has in his pockets, it don't turn against him-- or her, for that matter.  But somehow, she expects this won't be the end of it for him.<br/><br/>Exiting with the rush of congratulations and bubbling joy of success, she finds it difficult to maintain her 'character' of a stand-offish barbarian stranger when she, again, makes her way to the dressing room.  The moment of triumph, for performers, is a moment of contagious joy, when any personal grudge or jealousy can be easily swept aside for the sheer relief of hard work culminating to success... this is a delightful discovery, that adulation from strangers brings such a personal satisfaction.  But she must remember that it's a dangerous pool in which to swim, and she's not here to bathe in it-- she's here to dive for a coveted, and illegal, pearl.<br/><br/>So her smile fades a bit, but she simply relishes the joy of watching the others, accepting the hug from Alizeh with a shocked-- but pleased-- 'oof' and small laugh of girlish surprise.  Her skin smells of coconut still, despite her having wiped away as much of the oil as possible with layers of worn linens she bought for a pittance from a local laundry-maid's salvage.  She cautiously offers a hand to Brigette's shoulder, and a friendly smile that shines like a crescent-moon in her tanned face beams out.  "Very bold--and the lyrics were hilarious, I thought," she shrugs.  "I never<i>learned</i>to dance, really, and like that?"  She laughs lightly, "by the gods, I think they were ready to burst."<br/><br/>Then she catches a glimpse of Erica across the room, and with a congratulatory wave, she simply shakes her head in the pantomime of disbelief and mouths, '<i>remarkable!</i>', then makes a show as if she were checking her coin-purse surreptitiously (which, of course, she can't possibly have on her with the scant leather costume she still wears... but the message is clear enough).  She then gives a friendly wink and heads over to the 'buffet' to draw a glass of brandy punch.<br/><br/>If she manages to brush shoulders with Sharell, she looks up grins nervously, and looks the woman over-- perhaps checking for a knife.  "Very moving," she says, her eyes wide with both fascination and, unsurprisingly, a tinge of nervousness.  "Quite the flair for the dramatic you possess... tragic, and... well.  Gruesome, I think is the wrong word... because it was beautiful.  Does that make it macabre?"  She shrugs.  "I... hope that's right.  Forgive me if I don't quite have the words for it.  But it was great."  She sips her punch, then, and eases back a few steps...<br/><br/>...And, by sheer luck, almost directly into Alizeh.  She turns about on her heel, listening with her chestnut eyes wide and fixated on the half-elf's face, before her momentarily abashed smile settles into a warmer, softer one.  Her gaze turns aside in a moment's modesty, then flit back as she emits a breathy, single laugh.  "That's very kind of you," she says, her voice a little more husky than her delicate face would hint, though the glimmer of her eyes and the quirk of her lips are utterly girlish and amicable as she accepts the momentary attention.  "And a true compliment from someone so talented and with such grace."<br/><br/>Mara then clears her throat a bit, still smiling, and makes a gesture as if to smooth her garment-- of course, she's not wearing anything fully capable of<i>being</i>smoothed, so she can simply make a minor adjustment to the hem of the leather bustier where it gently dimples the ridge of her abdomen.  The smile lingers at her lips as she fights to suppress her outward glee, focusing instead on the others in their celebration as she fidgets with the glass cup in her hand and savors the sweet and stinging punch within.<br/>