[ 001.Work] [Zahra]

[neverredhanded]

High, palatial ceilings washed a dignified off-white, supported by columns of the same color and adorned with gilded plates from which chains support glittering chandeliers overhang even Morison's towering form. His hair cropped short again (something that will change with a few days back in Kesaid), Morison's auburn mane blends perfectly with his

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[burntdollhouse]

She isn't.

Zahra arrives promptly, dressed in tall, expensive heels that tie at her ankle, a tight pencil skirt that hits just above her knees, and a deep crimson silk blouse. The color, she thinks, will appeal to him...and then she wonders why she's trying to appeal to him. It's about the mark. Nothing else. At least she fits in here, though, effortlessly. When she sees Morison, while stepping neatly away from the revolving doors, she offers him one of her politely unreadable smiles.

[neverredhanded]

Well, whether for simple agreeability or otherwise, the color does catch Morison's eye. His ruby eyes, lustrous, brilliant, and bright, follow her legs, seeming to him to run straight up to her smile. He responds with a cool smirk that no one else would see and then turns away, waiting for her corporal warmth to come close enough to his that he knows to turn to the open elevator, stepping in as though he wouldn't wait for her.

Hurry up, gorgeous.

[burntdollhouse]

Zahra speeds up her pace just a touch, almost imperceptibly--she doesn't want anyone to see her rush, including him. Rushing tends to make things sloppy unless you're an expert (at anything, period), and she's too new to say she's that good.

When the elevetor door rattles shut, she tilts her head at him. "You cut your hair."

[neverredhanded]

In the elevator, Mori holds the door open button to allow her the time to get in with him. He smiles down at the backlit panel as she glides in beside him and releases the button, letting the doors slide shut. "Does it look bad?" Not that he cares about her opinion. He doesn't look at her, gaze locked straight with his neck. "Go ahead of me to the room. We can't be seen speaking directly to one another outside of that bedroom." He prods her thigh with the edge of one of the keycards, dragging it up to her hip. "I'll be right along." The floors blink above them one at a time. Three. Four. Five. "You look absolutely breathtaking, by the way."

[neverredhanded]

"Exactly. You're a fragile little thing. It's your job to get the guy and my job--" He interrupts himself, busying his lips with the upper corner of her ear and his hands with flattening the dress against her stomach. He's half teasing because she is, but the further into that statement he gets, the more serious he sounds. "--to make sure you come out of it fine. Even if I don't." That should be sufficient explanation, Zahra.

[burntdollhouse]

He can probably feel, if not quite hear, the soft, quick intake of breath when his lips touch her ear. This isn't right--this is going too far. Even if she's not wearing her wedding ring (for work purposes, she reminds herself, not to let herself forget her obligations). It would be too easy to let herself slide...but she pays attention to what he's saying, and turns, resting her hands on his chest. They're still very close together, though.

"I'm not that fragile," she says, quietly, "But I understand. It's safer, for now."

Until she starts taking care of marks on her own, she means. If that ever happens. Zahra takes a step back, increasing the space between them. Physically, anyway.

[neverredhanded]

Almost ironic that the man with perhaps the strongest sense of loyalty of any she'll ever meet is the one trying to tempt her from her husband. He smiles pridelessly down at her hands and relaxes his body beneath them. "You're not that tough either." He doesn't look her in the eye, only watching her feet back out of his view before pursing his lips and nodding obediently. "Thank you for understanding. Go fool on your computer. I'm going to change."

[burntdollhouse]

"I might be tougher than I seem," she says, lightly. And it's not untrue--but resilient is perhaps a better word. Zahra pauses, and, in a relatively rare gesture (given her unfamiliarity with touch as simple affection), rests a hand on his arm and gives him a small smile before heading toward her laptop. "Do you want me to call room service or something?"

[neverredhanded]

"And I thought this was a cultured move." He quirks a brow at her and smiles dubiously, eyes falling from those features he can only deem as precious to the leg that so casually brushes his. He looks her over carefully, with a sort of cowed weakness in his eyes. She's good at leading him on. After a moment he smiles, eyes cast to the ground still, and turns back to his plate. "Tell me about yourself, Zahra. Where are you from?"

[burntdollhouse]

"Notre-Dame-de-Grâce," she says, lifting the flute of champagne nearest her to take a delicate, testing sip, "In Montreal. My family has since moved to Regina, though. And you?"

She's aware that he's not from anywhere she's ever heard of (and remembers being sort of tickled by it, before), but isn't at all familiar with his homeland. Of course, she's not entirely certain he's going to tell her, but that's all right. They have time for that. She pulls a segment of lobster onto a small plate and pushes it toward him, with a little smirk. Yes, she'll push him to try it.

[neverredhanded]

For an instant - a shining instant where he's not a brooding murderer or a mysterious offworlder - Mori looks like a five year old in the last throes of a fight not to eat vegetables. He makes a little face at her and grudgingly brings the plate over, pinching a sinew of the meat, lifting it, and rolling it down his tongue. He squints and chews as she tells her shortened tale, talking around a mouthful. "Odd texture. I'm from one of the smaller islands of Kesaid. Noble family. Attended a specialized school." For magic, he'll neglect to mention.

[burntdollhouse]

She doesn't hide her pleased (and amused) smile when he takes a bite of the lobster, despite his clear reservations about it. It's...cute. She doesn't often think of things that way, especially not men. "Earth must be quite a shock, if you're used to a monarchy."