Round 3

Jeane's crimson eyes narrow as she processes the situation, her tall frame tensing with each heavy footfall outside. Fuck. This is exactly what we needed - another complication on top of our already precarious position. She runs a hand through her long white hair, the black curved horns catching the dim light as she moves. Silra's right though; witnesses are the last thing we need right now. Especially if that guy outside decides to investigate further and stumbles upon what's left of our… activities from last night.

Silra presses herself flatter against the wall, her slim form barely visible through the gap in the curtains. Shit. He's getting closer - and he's definitely heading this way. We need a plan, Jeane. Fast. The elf's bright teal eyes dart around the room, searching for any solution that might get them out of this mess without drawing unwanted attention. Maybe we can pretend to be part of some weird church group? Or… or maybe I could distract him while you hide upstairs with the others?

Jeane's lips curl into a smirk despite the gravity of their situation. Distract him, huh? That's one way to handle it. She moves closer to Silra, her voluptuous form accentuated by the tight black leather outfit as she steps carefully over scattered remnants of last night's debauchery. You do have a certain… appeal when you're all flustered like this. But no - we need something more subtle than whatever half-assed seduction attempt you might manage right now.

Silra feels her cheeks flush at Jeane's comment, conflicted by embarrassment and an unexpected surge of arousal. Hey! I'm serious here! She hisses, trying to maintain her composure despite the lingering soreness between her thighs. And for your information, I can be very… persuasive when needed. But fine - if you've got a better idea, let's hear it before that guy decides to break down the door.

Jeane's crimson eyes sparkle with amusement as she watches Silra squirm uncomfortably. Relax, elf girl. I'm just teasing - though I wouldn't mind putting those persuasive skills of yours to the test later. She glances towards the stairs leading up to the main sanctuary, considering their options carefully. Here's what we do: you stay here and keep an eye on our unwelcome visitor. If he tries to enter, create some kind of distraction - a loud noise or whatever. Meanwhile, I'll slip upstairs and make sure Hera and Abby don't panic and give everything away.

Silra nods reluctantly, her fingers already twitching with nervous energy. Okay. I can do that much at least. But what about Halie? Shouldn't we try to find out where she went? She shifts her weight from foot to foot, acutely aware of the residual lubricant still trickling down her inner thigh - a constant reminder of how thoroughly Jeane had used her earlier. And what if this guy doesn't buy whatever distraction I come up with?

Jeane places a reassuring hand on Silra's shoulder, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than strictly necessary. Don't worry about Halie right now - she can take care of herself. As for our friend outside… A wicked grin spreads across her face as an idea forms. If all else fails, I'll handle it. Trust me, I have my ways of making people forget what they've seen.

Silra shivers involuntarily at Jeane's touch, her body responding despite the circumstances. Fine. But if you hear screaming or sudden silence, assume I've been caught and come down here with backup - or at least bring some rope to tie up the body. She tries for a joke but it comes out more serious than intended.

Jeane chuckles darkly, her crimson eyes glinting with mischief. Body? Now you're thinking like one of us, Silra. Keep that spirit up - we might need it. With a final squeeze to the elf's shoulder, she turns and moves towards the stairs, her dark leathery wings rustling softly as she ascends.

Left alone by the side door, Silra takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the task at hand. The sound of footsteps circling the church grows closer with each passing second. She shifts her weight again, acutely aware of how exposed she feels in her modern black streetwear - especially given the visible evidence of what had transpired earlier still clinging to her inner thighs. Come on, think Silra, she mutters under her breath. What would Halie do in this situation?