It was the mention of her being Italian that had a smokey and cruel sensation curling up in the pit of Elena's stomach. And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Her muddy eyes flashed like daggers, but it was brief. She could tell by the woman's incessant rambling that she hadn't meant anything by the comment. And while Elena hadn't taken offense, there was some seeded part of her that knew she could pretend she had. She could play the victim like no other. Her expressive, but sad eyes were made for pouring in some guilt. It would serve her right.
Unsure of where that thought had stemmed from, Elena forced another smile. She'd missed almost everything that blondie had said, but nodded dumbly.
" Ah, si. " In some far fetched attempt to recover herself, she slinked forward again. Extending a cool hand with french tipped nails.