When Étoile bows, she dips so low that her jacket flutters completely open and her ponytail flops down past her face to brush with the floor. She looks ridiculous flourishing her arms out so far from her when she still needs to hold all of her meeting materials, but she takes the time to do it anyway, dipping her right leg daintily behind her and holding the pose for an extra five seconds after she is given leave to speak.

When she stands, she doesn't rise slowly so much as bounce with a careless toss of her head that sends her ponytail arcing up and over her head again like an actress on the beach. It's the sort of touch slaves tend to be punished for, but that Étoile gets away with because her hair is such a natural shade of blonde the Annunaki barely distinguish it from their precious gold. 

"Greetings to the Exalted Jerioth ab-Ishtar on behalf of Milady Tamytha ab-Marduk! She is soooooooooo sorry she couldn't be here tonight herself! Her consti... um... her, you know, the, um. She got, like, really sick? But she has bid me shower your exalted glory with praises in her stead! And extend the invitation to take tea with Her Ladyship at a time and place as matches your pleasure! She's really, you know, interested in collab...ing? With you? She was using a lot of big words I didn't understand, but she wrote them all done right here for you! And I've been instructed to offer samples of her recent work, some of which I'm wearing tonight! What do you think?"

She twirls on the spot three times, making her pant legs flutter like flower petals in a breeze and all of her paint and jewelry shimmer in the soft light of the chamber. She feels like such a ditz right now that even Caphtor would blush at her. She keeps her head dipped slightly at all times, stealing coy little glances at Jerioth's absurdly gorgeous hair, at her shoulders, at her legs, never daring seek her eyes or even her face. Her eyes sparkle with flustered delight to be in such amazing company!

But she's watching. Every shift in posture, every glare, every breath and how many turn into weary sighs or come with smirks. Is she roused, is she hungry? Is she guarded, is she enchanted? Is she already reaching up her hand to snap her fingers and carry Étoile to some side chamber to be whipped and spanked? She gasps and jumps as cutely as can be. 

"Oh! Yes! May I hand over Her Ladyships gifts now? To which beloved slave should I let bring them to you? And... um... i-if it's all right, m-might I please have permission to..?"

She scuffs her foot shyly on the floor in front of her. And she watches like a falcon for the signal to strike.

[Pierce the Mask: [b]8[/b] again. "How could I get her to lower her guard in front of me?"]