Sun Mote Copse "Eins, zwei, drei ... Ugh, I do not think we brought enough body bags."

Giana might have found the smile a little odd, had she the decency to look at the man she was charged with -- even when they'd stoped to admire the altar, she didn't look to him, but padded the extra couple of feet to bow at the forelegs to the shrine, praying silently to Molech. Hell, even after a few seconds had passed, and the ivory warrior had righted herself with a wobble and a wince, her stormy gaze swiped around them. Her anger had quelled with his acceptance, but that didn't mean she cared -- Giana Angleo was a creature of great vanity and perhaps a little absolutely, totally, without a doubt sexist, and the fact that she'd been charged to escort the man made her stomach turn. She'd only needed a man three times in her life: two sire her two litters, and the one who raised her.

                 "I wasn't a founding member, but I think they found it this way." 

For someone who'd only weeks ago nearly made a girl cry because she hadn't been looking at her when speaking, Giana sure was being a hypocrite -- something she was also known for -- by the way she twisted around to lick at her stomach, never once turning her gaze to him, she showed her lack of respect. 
Luca would have cuffed her around the head for it, but her Padre was not here -- she could act how she wanted, now.