Of course, the downside to staring down Ben as hard as Lauren's father was that it prevented him noticing something else. Namely, stripper Amaranth Desire skirting around the showdown to the girl bending over to search under her bed. As she approached, though, carefully, an alternative course of action presented itself.

She was still registering everything said, but speaking would have broken her cover.

Her Semblance ramped up to slowing everything ever so slightly, letting her mind target and process the changes in status of the three people she was most concerned about looking toward her as she moved. Ben was talking about the Manticore battle, so he was unlikely to look--besides, that death glare was likely consuming the small parts of his poor straight male brain that weren't absolutely blocked out with NOT LOOKING TOWARD THE BED anyway. Lauren's father was leveling the death glare at Ben, so he was somewhat distracted too. Costa was the real issue--for the moment, she seemed to be watching her husband delivering a staredown with not insignificant amusement, but Amy would still be in her line of sight once she got to the strained jeans sticking up from under the bed.

She hesitated, once she reached Lorena. Wasn't too late to back down. She could go back to her original plan, just make Ben's temptation worse rather than risking a trip out a window herself.

...

[img]http://media.tumblr.com/f4befc25e2e57c1cc19ff45c23e879bd/tumblr_inline_mo940gw6nn1qz4rgp.gif[/img]

Her hand moved, in a blur of motion, and to her sensitive ears all hell seemed to break loose.

Sequentially:

1. Her hand hit Lauren's ass with a clap of palm on denim that, bless its threads, would likely need therapy later.
2. Estelle barged into the room, saying something about Lauren's lingerie. 
3. The territorial part of Amy's brain registered a threat.
4. Her eyes locked with Estelle's, and she squeezed.
5. Stuff got awkward.