He stepped a little closer.
Not enough to breach Aella's space—just enough to draw her attention back to the fact that he was, in fact, taller than her. Broader. Calmer. And, annoyingly, very much aware of what effect he had on people.
"Look," he said, tone finally shifting into something more grounded, more real. "I'm not here to flirt. I came because I need someone smart and loud and sharp enough to push something through the guild without drawing too many eyes."
Aella's flirtatious edge dulled a little. She blinked again, slower this time.
"…You being serious right now?"
He nodded. "Dead serious."
She stared at him for another moment, then exhaled through her nose.
"Alright," she said. "We'll talk. Back room's open."
As she pushed off the counter and stalked around the desk, she added without looking at him:
"But after this business? You're buying me a drink. And if I even smell Sylvie's perfume on you again, I'm making you file everything by hand. In triplicate."
