The look that she leveled at him was somewhat enhanced by the lines of black and gold accenting her dark eyes. No, the ritual done by the younger witches of the Coven hadn't done anything to make her feel better. It had lifted the mood of the Cirque a bit, and that was fine. But Elia had wanted no part of that ritual, and had only done her part in the evening's out of a sense of duty. (And seriously, because Issac would never leave her alone if she had skipped out on both parts.)
"Not my kind of ritual. Sweet of them though, wasn't it?" The question was edged with sarcasm, mild and dry. It wasn't that she was in mourning; she had been distressed by the disappearances of the dancers because they were part of V&V. She was supposed to care about them, at least to an extent. They had been friendly, on good terms. And covering their shifts was irritating, besides.
But it was Marcus and what had happened to and with him that was bothering her, not the dead employees. That she had allowed the warlock to come so close, that she had ignored the spirit that was tainting him and the evidence she had of it. And that she'd had to hurt him in order to get things under control again. If it had been stronger, she might have had to hurt him badly... and Marcus was not an immortal. Neither was Issac. Or Alex. They all seemed desperately mortal to her at the moment.
And that was worrisome.
"Is this what you do when no one's around? Sprawl out?" Whether or not he accepted the wine, Elia didn't seem to mind; she busied herself with it regardless, taking a long sip before turning the glass around between her fingers.