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His lips brushed against the back of her hand as if she were a work of art to be admired, and the notion caused a flicker of amusement to sparkle in her eyes.[break][break]

She preferred men like this: stoic, discrete. It kept things interesting. If she was going to continue these pursuits, the least she could do was make them entertaining for herself.[break][break]

"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine."[break][break]

The social contract struck between them, she sidled over to stand beside him, admiring the view he'd afforded for himself. He'd seemingly resigned himself to people-watching; not the worst way to spend an evening, no, but far from ideal. How nice it was, to have no true competition for one's companionship.[break][break]

"I understand you are due to be sent to Galar soon?" she opened, her eyes turning to catch his. "My condolences."[break][break]

Gossip had been rather mundane this evening, making for the usual subjects of circling conversation. In the inevitable discussion of 'who was who,' his name as an up-and-comer had been bandied about thoroughly.[break][break]

Her own name was either tossed around in hushed, disdainful whispers, or with a cloying, self-righteous pity that she despised hearing all the more. Though neither seemed to dissuade him from speaking with her, she noted.[break][break]

Lisa raised her glass to his in toast, the red liquid swirling with the movement.[break][break]

"Alas, I fear this may be your last night of tolerable wine for some time." Her smile become a slow, mocking thing, before she added, "Or tolerable company, for that matter."

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"Mm. You'd be right," she conceded, a polite laugh spilling from her lips. The sound was slightly brighter than it had any right to be, and she blamed this on the wine.[break][break]

She lowered her drink to a nearby table, now empty of temptation. "I am here for the same reason as you, I imagine. Chained to the tedium of obligation."[break][break]

A finger idly spun her wedding ring as she spoke, purposeful in the movement as she turned her sights back on the crowd in front of them. However, the entire time she remained attentive to the posture of the man next to her: what he did, where he looked, what he might say and why.[break][break]

It wasn't her first time playing this game. Webs took time to spin.[break][break]

"I suppose we all make concessions when life expects us to, however. Whether it's in our choice of drink, or our choice of companion." There was a wryness to her smile, now, as her voice lowered to a conspiratorial tenor. "Which makes the rare opportunity to act on one's own desires particularly worthwhile. Wouldn't you agree?"[break][break]

Her hand brushed against his own as she faced him, and shamelessly moved to take his wine glass as her own. If he didn't resist her, she'd drink it slowly. Leisurely. As if she was welcome to anything she pleased, no matter who owned it.[break][break]

And the look in her eyes offered him the same in return.

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"I find even brief pursuits can be memorable."[break][break]

At his knowing look, a pleased expression flitted across her own features. It was always better when men accepted their willing part in these indiscretions, rather than playing coy.[break][break]

She detested that other song-and-dance most of all: the one where the monsters she beguiled voiced hesitation and uncertainty, begging her to affirm that the man she married was far worse than they, themselves, could ever be. They wanted to feel blameless for their sins.[break][break]

Which was why, when 'good' men attempted to goad her in that fashion, her interest waned in an abrupt catch-and-release.[break][break]

Lisa Bortiforte had no interest in saviors. She was looking for knives -- particularly those sharp enough to cut her true prey where it hurt most.[break][break]

"Though if I am to be honest with you, Ambassador," she continued, returning his drink to him so that her hands briefly alighted upon his, "I find myself in need of something more stimulating than boorish prattle about Kalosian social politics. I wonder if you might feel the same?"[break][break]

Her red lipstick had decisively marked his glass, staining it with an almost territorial air.[break][break]

She drifted away from him then, pale fingers untangling from his, as an unvoiced dare sparked and danced in her emerald eyes. The faint scent of honeysuckle and lily-of-the-valley faded away with her, beckoning in its subtle, floral aroma.[break][break]

"Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor," she warned in a sing-song voice, and turning her back to him, she moved to depart for the hall.[break][break]

She did not have to look behind her to know that he would follow.

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Kalosian mansions were all rather the same. She knew her own so well after a decade trapped in its walls, navigating another one took precious little time at all. Libraries, in her experience, were secluded and empty during events like these. The only potential interruption would come from others seeking solace for the same scandalous reasons.[break][break]

Men, too, were all the same. Over and over, they coveted what they weren't meant to have.[break][break]

"I understand time is a valuable thing, Ambassador," she said, finding her place upon a chaise lounge and motioning for him to join her. Multiple bookshelves formed a maze around them, offering potential reprieve should any prying eyes appear. "I have no intention of wasting yours."[break][break]

And she didn't intend to allow him to waste hers, either.[break][break]

With permission granted, she began this ritual that had characterized countless other trysts like this one, with men just like him. Their faces and names were already lost to her in a meaningless, vindictive haze.[break][break]

Just as his would be, not long after their session ended.[break][break]

Julien would not find a vulnerable damsel seeking respite from the horrors of her marriage, if that was what he was searching for in her. Nor would he find a woman enamored with him and his own physique, if his ego was what he sought to affirm tonight.[break][break]

She seized what she wanted from him with vicious possession.[break][break]

Nails dug into his skin with a sharpness that conveyed no kindness, her mouth claiming his with the ferocity of hateful need. He was simply a body to her, just as she imagined she was nothing more than a body to him: a source of warmth to be enjoyed and exploited, then discarded and forgotten.[break][break]

The languages of love and violence were not so different, she'd learned, when written on another's skin. They both left marks and bruises that could be explained away later.[break][break]

What Julien thought in this moment meant nothing to her. Whether or not her husband found out about her latest sin was irrelevant. Édouard had punished her for lesser things; her husband had imagined her to be the adulteress, certainly, long before she'd accepted the role his insecurity had foisted upon her.[break][break]

Becoming what her husband feared most was, well, simply giving him the obedience he wanted.[break][break]

Whatever pleasure she felt in this union was pyrrhic in nature, its desire kindled and fanned by flames of spite.

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