Seshra is led into the room by the tart that met her at the door. Seeing three men in the room, one of which she was already aquainted with, making hasty introductions. Old Josep eh...something must be afoot. He's not jumping up to hug me eh? Prudence would dictate that act as though we don't know eachother...and I see he thinks the same.
She flips her golden tresses over her shoulder and tries to accentuate her curves as she takes her seat, but when nobody bothers to notice she quickly becomes angry. She spits out a venomous "Bitch" and flings a fingerful of rude gesture at the door after the woman who led her in leaves the room, presumably to fetch another guest. Oh look at me I'm SO gorgeous! I should slit her pretty little neck...
Seshra glowers around the table, noticing that her outburst probably didn't constitute good table manners...Not that Mr. Tournament seems to mind table manners at all...she notes, with an upturning of her nose.
Seshra then sits in a pouting silence, waiting for the meal to be served.