It took some time to re-arm the bug - the latch stuck a little, and he had to pry it up with a card to refill the potion well - and once that was done, Cian followed the path Damia had taken. She was still here, which was good, but by her expression and her posture, the mood was definitely shot to hell.
Faram fucking damn it.
He sat down himself a few moments later, next to her but not close enough to touch. Who knew what she was thinking? His own thoughts were turbulent, too. He had seen no recourse but to let the woman go, but....
"Sorry about that," he finally said. Which was, in the end, woefully insufficient, but what was he supposed to say? So sorry some crazy bitch thought she could bury some ninja stars in my back, and probably yours too; how about a shot of whiskey before we get back to what we were doing? Somehow, he sensed that a simple apology would go over better.
Unfortunate that a sorry couldn't mend the mistakes of the evening, whether on her part, his, or Alecta's. Perhaps all three. It would likely take a night in the comfort of her own home to recover from the unexpected shock, but here Cian was with his apology, and it was better than anything else he might have said or done. Her hand fell from her face to rest against a knee.
"Have you always been this popular?" shouldn't have been the words out of her mouth, but the defense mechanism activated too quickly.