Olive, being the naturally observant creature that she was (for a number of reasons, both distant and recent), obviously sensed the approach of a figure from the side. The instant before Lindsey scooped up her hand from its place on her current customer's head, dark green eyes shifted his direction with a quick, anticipatory side-glance. Her expression changed, but only to the point of subtlety that only those that knew her best could tell the difference. The barest twitch of her lips into one cheek: translation.. she was mildly pleased to see him.
Jon Doe beneath her, however, did not share the same sentiments. His lap now cooling without the undulating affections of a seasoned dancer (one he felt he legitimately paid for), a clear look of confusion crossed his college-age features. They followed Olive, who merely deepened the delicate smirk and sent him a wink of false apology from her position just behind the Suit's left shoulder. Lindsey had his attention next: his jaw set for a moment as he shoved against the chair to stand and protest. "Hey pal, I wasn't done with her.."
The aggression in his voice and posture was as apparent as the alcohol on his breath, and the ungodly amount of aftershave.
Olive's brows lifted with a show of mild amusement, then her eyes wandered: her arms folded across her middle, beneath the modest swells of a naked bust and the feathered ends of black hair: indifference and boredom.