It's a momentary thing. A fleeting flicker, nothing more. Bella's eye catches the box, and her pupil opens at the sight. There's a slight pause before her nose twitches and air fills her lungs again, and a tiny... not a frown, but a brief pressing of her lips flashes across her face. For a moment, she is in another world.

It's a good thing she still has so many sharks to hold. Without them, she might have crushed her claws into her skin and ruined the entire carnival with her blood. She might have torn down the booth completely, and then there would have been a great many questions to answer. Just like old times, right Redana? The secrets and the lies. 

But her hands are full of softness, so she doesn't do anything more than brush her fingers along the velvety surface of a hammerhead. A shadow clouds her eye, but she blinks it away. She is rooted in place. When she sighs, it might be nothing more important than a plan to procure the box her Princess wants so badly. This one, at least, she'll actually use. This one won't haunt her sleep. 

Finally, she smiles. Hers is not a loud grin, full of laughter or bright expressions, but neither is it the serenity of Lord Apollo. Hers is a ghost's smile; a glimmer of moonlight peeking through clouds before it's swallowed up by something much brighter than she is. Guilt washing away with the tides, kept at bay until the next sight or smell that pulls it back toward her again. A smile like a scythe that is constantly contemplating violence as the fastest possible solution to any problem. That is constantly thinking its way around violence. If she comes across as clever, then this is the true reason for it. They are hard won, are her ideas.

Her arms are full of sharks. It [i]would[/i] be nice to have a chest to carry all this treasure inside of. 

"Well," she says in a voice that sounds half a universe away, "I suppose if it's got [i]wheels.[/i] Then there's really no choice."

The look of concentration on her face is also a thing of moon-and-starlight. She is on board the [i]Anemoi[/i] again, preparing for a raid. Quiet orders hissed into the darkness where every sense is a strain just to catch it, but with the lethal edge of absolute confidence that her voice will carry where it needs to. 

She points toward a strange table: a smooth and elongated surface that curves upward at the far end, where it houses a series of strange and increasingly smaller ringed barriers with holes to nowhere carved into the middle of them. Each ring is labelled with a larger number that for some inscrutable reason is connected with the smallness of the ring it's attached to. 

"We'll use that. That's the last of these rituals we haven't completed, at least as far as I can find. We'll take what we win there and bring it over to the betting hall. Hades is a gambler himself, isn't he? It makes sense that if you want to win the nicest prizes you'll have to earn it the same way he did. And if that doesn't work... don't worry, Dany. It'll work. Trust me. Come on."

Her smile may be a shard of moonlight against the blackness of night, but when she grins? When those wickedly sharp fangs come out, all confidence and no malice? That's more like a lantern, blazing fierce enough to make anyone want to follow it.