[In a modern setting, Teren's expression would communicate a deadpan 'lol'. Instead, she just smirks, confident that it's fine because Wren can't see it, and gives her hair a twist to pull her head down toward the nearest surface.]

Right then, pretty thing. [She holds Wren's head firmly, pressing her to bend forward at the waist, and takes a final swig of the wine before reaching to set it down over on the Templar's other side. Her free hand begins to trail down Wren's back, testing for reactions.]

Is it further violence you require, or calm? [She's here to help.]