At first the devoted of Slaanesh was quite taken aback, not so much by the words which he chose to use - she was [b]no[/b] whore..although for Slaanesh? - but more by his overly introverted attitude; so far it was only she and her faithful servant Raoul that had even approached him, shockingly since she believed that at least one of the Khornate band may have chosen to speak with an eight-foot tall and such a rather robust individual! Why the attitude?

As Lucius rightly guessed, Atella decided to speak to him anyway, sashaying her way over with swinging hips and the almost imperceptible sound of veils rubbing against one another as her bare feet slid across the floor. Raoul came in tow, and his master could tell that the hunchbacked man was more than a little annoyed at being threatened, nevertheless he kept the 'correct' distance and took a seat as close as he could to his mistress, but as far away as he had to from this...this...thing.

His mistress on the other hand shimmied as close as she could, still having to look up at the Fallen Angel even though he was sitting, she not being all that short herself - nearly six foot as it was, and even taller in heels when she deigned to wear them - but Lucius being at least two feet taller.

"Mmmmm," she almost purred, taking a risk and placing a careful hand as gently as she could on one of his overly developed biceps, "I do like the feisty ones, that's no secret." She paused for a moment, eyeing him as a cat eyes a mouse, in spite of the obvious threat he posed to her, "I'll tell you what...you seem like an interesting [i]guy[/i], and I'll admit that I'm curious to know why you're even here. It isn't often we get anyone of your-" she thought again, pursing lips as black as coal, retracting both hands to place them in her laps, "of your esteemed [i]lineage[/i] in our humble establishment. So, if you'd like to talk to someone..." one slender hand wafted toward the Slaaneshi area of pleasure and delights, "you know where to find me."

With that the conversation was over, Atella lifting herself almost delicately from her seat and leaning in to whisper to her hooded assistant, "remain vigilant, Raoul. There is [b]something[/b] happening here, though I do not yet know what...but I think there will be more visitors to our happy place than we might expect."

Raoul bobbed his head enthusiastically, drunk on his mistresses scent alone, scurrying off into the mass of human (and abhuman) dross that frequented the more seedy - and outright heretical - side of the antiques dealership.

[@Lord Coake][@BCTheEntity]