[Kerra’s steps are confident as well, though a different sort. She carries herself with the effortless, lazy grace of a predator, strong and open motions that speak of athleticism and physical power. She wasn’t stalking someone this time, but the image wouldn’t have seemed out of place with her stride, though Kerra seems utterly unaware of it. It’s almost like that bravado is reflexive, a bone-deep part of her that fit right in with her elegant gown and manner of speech.

Kerra’s eyebrow arches ever so slightly as Maki takes a soda, of all things. That’s going to have to change a bit, she thinks to herself, fully intending to be the agent of that change, but all in time. Once the curtain drops, she takes a seat on a couch and pats the cushion beside her. Come sit, kitten. Ms. Westen won’t bite. Much. Unless you like that sort of thing.]

I’ve got no idea. Maybe they’re all too busy bickering with one another or hobnobbing with the execs. [Kerra Westen stayed out of workplace politics. She was here for the applause, and the fun.]

Either way, good for us, eh? Less chance of someone pestering us.