For once, Nikita was watching Missy with casual observance, as opposed to the harsh scrutiny she typically regarded her with. She was… pleased (happy wasn’t the right word for it) that the other woman was drinking blood of her own free will. Her eyes concentrated on the dark liquid as Missy sipped it with all the casualness of drinking vodka. Maybe it was the vampire side of her that found it so appealing, or maybe it was the fact that Missy looked so at home in her kitchen. That thought was cut short, however, when the glass suddenly slipped from Missy’s hand and fell to the ground. If her eyes hadn’t drifted to linger in other places that weren’t the drink, Nikita might have been able to rush forward and save the glass. She stood still for a moment, looking back and forth between the puddle of blood and glass and Missy. “Me?” Her eyebrow rose in question, still not understanding what had caused the accident. Nerves shot from a long day? The thought had a short life; Missy had been through worse and still maintained steady hands. Nikita looked down at herself, the only prompt she had as to what was wrong, and then an idea came to her. Was it her outfit? She may have been vaguely aware of the fact that today she was dressed differently, but she didn’t fully realize how differently – or how that would affect Missy. The corners of her mouth curled up into a grin. Their relationship wasn’t so evolved that Nikita didn’t get pleasure from having one-up on Missy.
“You’re welcome.” She casually circled the kitchen to the sink; despite spending little time in the space, she had always made sure to acquaint herself with where everything was. “I didn’t even ask Annie to help,” Nikita added as she took a dishtowel from a drawer and knelt down to begin sopping up the spill. There was no need for the comment, but a part of her felt that Missy should know she had done something without the aid of an employee. Though she wasn’t looking at the other woman, she could feel Missy’s eyes lingering on her. Nikita managed to wipe up most of the blood with the medium-sized towel; she balled it up in her hands and slowly rose to dump it into the sink, keeping her eyes on Missy the entire time. “No, I wasn’t planning on it.” She grabbed another towel from the drawer and wetted a corner of it under the tap before taking a step closer. “Why do you ask?” Nikita didn’t remain standing as she waited for an answer, but instead bent to one knee and began dabbing at Missy’s dress. In order to do the job properly, she needed to get a better grip of the fabric, which required her to slip her hand under the hem of the skirt – not far, but just far enough. Her sharp eyes looked up at the blonde, daring her to object. “You know it’ll stain if you let it set.”
Hadn’t she waited up for Missy to tell herself? Why was she wasting time with this, pushing buttons that were better left alone? “There was actually something I needed to talk to you about. I think you can guess what it is.”