Danube in the Plaza (A Shared Story Exercise)

Here, it is a shared story thread where you may bring your own characters to interact in a setting along in an evolving Story Arc. Inspired from an Na No Wri Mo exercise, I've had plenty of fun with this with one of my own characters as it helped flesh out her traits and feelings, even surprising me on the hidden depths that lurk behind the surface.

In spite of the possibly harrowing length, fear not Continuity Lock-Out or Archive Panic; hopefully one of us would be glad to fill you in with a brief recap of what is going on if asked.

(*Mood Music!*)

Like glitter from a snowglobe, the soft whiteness dribbles down into the bustling city of bright lights and luxurious decor - as if it comes from a gentle afterthought. Much of the roads have been painted with a thin layer of freshly-laden snow, and the sidewalks trodden with numerous footprints overlapping one another, left and right everywhere - giddy footprints, silly footprints, and the high heels of one mother taking her baby stroller to another boutique store.

And along a certain street, the hearts of people are especially crossed with anxious anticipation. You would see a line of attendees down the sidewalks, stretching from the Fairmont Plaza Hotel's entrance◊ all the way to blocks down the avenue, all of whom either having an invitation at hand, or a wad of money prepared for the entrance fee ($195) to the extravaganza. Indeed, how hectic it can be as some well-dressed bouncers keep the crowd at bay, to allow the limos and other cars to drive through.

Ashe stands amongst the others beside a parked Hondi - she is one of those people who weren't originally invited, but with good cash to compensate for that fact. Money will get you places, how true. On her outside, her nifty trenchcoat - this dark charcoal-ish thing wrapping her to the knees - it does her good enough with keeping her snugly warm, as long as the weather doesn't turn into an utter blitz later on. And what she wears inside, a black dress and tight stockings◊; she bought them just yesterday for this occasion. All the rest seem to have dressed themselves just as nicely, if not outright stealing from the royalty.

And as far as Ashe knows, it is still a kept mystery what really will be going down tonight in the place, for herself and much of the attendees. In the newspapers, the description was artfully vague regarding the event - what she remembers is the Ziegler family has drinks and food provided, rest assured, and even the movie celebrities will be there attending. Well, that certainly explains why everyone's bringing up people like Tom Cruise and Michael Fassbender, the insistent camera flashes, and just perhaps that extra edge present in the air.

That edge.. that tension in her gut.. like it would turn out to be a life-changer for her. She can hardly explain it. It's her first time attending such an extravaganza like this, maybe to see what it would feel like to be amongst the fabulous for a night. Her friends didn't come - they thought her silly for doing so, but at least she's promised to bring back a souvenir.

Up ahead, the hotel doors have yet to be opened for everyone - it's ten more minutes until the fun begins. A melancholy remains present in Ashe - she can't help but feel electrified and lonesome to be in an unfamiliar crowd. Not a familiar face in sight.

edited 31st Aug '12 6:34:07 PM by QQQQQ

Two more guests waited (im)patiently in the line ready to pay their entrance fee to the gala. They were a mildly tall man, with a muscular build and spiky black hair, dressed in a standard tuxedo, and a more average-looking woman, with fire-red shoulder-length hair, and a dress to match.

"I still can't believe we're not on the guest list," the man, Fred, said, clearly impatient to get to the front.

"Yeah, I don't think we're really all that well known around here," the woman, Maria, said, "but seriously, a little line isn't going to kill you. We can wait with everyone else for a change."

"I suppose," Fred said, "but do you think this is a good suit?"

"Nonsense, everyone looks good in a tux - I just wonder if red is a good color for me?" Maria said.

"Every color is good for you," Fred said.

They returned to waiting, as Fred continually strained to look around the line and see if any movement had occurred, while Maria contented herself with experiencing the energy of the crowd and the anticipation of the unknown.

Meanwhile, across the street, a man leaned against the wall of a nearby building, surveying the party from a distance. He wore a black trenchcoat, and a fedora, and looked over the arriving guests with a trained eye.

Nothing too strange so far, wonder if this tip was bogus... he thought.

Ashe's ears perk up. Already you have a couple musing over the itty bitty details about things — when Ashe came by after parking her car in an underground garage, she'd wondered what sort of things were likely bound to happen here, even for this sort of rich party. (Once she remembers attending as a bridesmaid for a friend's wedding.. the caramel cake tasted delicious despite the kids doing their tomfoolering.)

With the hopes of consoling her tense self-consciousness, she decides a little small talk with someone wouldn't hurt - the couple can do as 'familiar faces.'

"What do you folks think'll happen once we get inside?" Ashe asks them, shouting a bit over the wind and chatter. "Free cookies on the tables? Do you think we get to meet.. er, Tom Cruise in person? I hear a bunch of celebrities are coming here too." The latter thought jolts her inside - meeting someone face-to-face who you've known only through the lens of films and publicized TV would be a strange, almost uncanny happening. But perhaps that would just be one of many other things that might happen.

edited 31st Aug '12 7:19:50 PM by QQQQQ

"Well, I wouldn't mind if we could meet him," Maria said to Ashe, grinning.

Fred simply rolled his eyes at Maria's comment, and said, "I've certainly heard that there will be quite a few celebrities, but as far as the main event - I hear it's anyone's guess. There are some rumors about a big unveiling, or maybe a big announcement, but with this sort of crowd, who knows?" Fred looked around at the crowd, noticing the large throngs of people, mostly the (apparently) well off, but quite the mix of clientele.

"It sure seems like everyone's here, all right," Maria said, "and whatever it is, they're probably spending way too much on it. Have you heard anything else?"

A few more limos drove up, only a few tense minutes until the opening.

Ashe notes the husband's roll of eyes— every man on the planet would be jealous of an over-achiever like Tom Cruise, or any moderately attractive male celebrity for that matter. (And herself? She isn't particularly honed in on what Hollywood considers attractive◊, but if she'd have to pick, she'd be going after Fiona Apple.◊ Mwah!)

"I feel it's big, alright," she says. Her breath visibly brushes out from her lips. "Don't you just feel it, in these sorts of big things? It's like being able to smell ozone in the air just before a storm comes." She quivers her legs. It is tempting to lean on the car beside when you've been waiting a while.

"I haven't heard anything else, besides what everyone knows," she continues. "You have to ask though, why the secrecy? If it's an unveiling of something.. this isn't just some weird publicity stunt to draw more people in, is it?" Certainly, if you look around, the mysteriousness is working its magic already. "Oh, enough fretting from poor moi. I'm Ashe—" Her hand is ready for a polite handshake— "What're your names?"

edited 31st Aug '12 8:51:04 PM by QQQQQ

A young man in his mid-twenties was also waiting in line, though his attention had been more captured by the falling snow than the gossip of others. He had been holding his hand out for several minutes while waiting, and was allowing the white to gather on his black glove. He focused on the glove, concentrating, as the snow began to form into a ball in his hand. Had he been a more playful person, he might have thrown the snowball at one of the strangers waiting in line along with him. He was not a playful person, however, and quickly dusted the snow off of his glove, before trying to brush some snow out of his dark red-brown hair.

Peter Gray must have looked a real sight in his ill-fitting black tuxedo. It was no surprise it didn't fit him. After all, the tuxedo wasn't even his. Peter's attendance at this party was all Marcus' idea. Of course, you don't get to be a billionaire without being invited to events like this, Peter thought to himself, but Marcus could at least have the decency to attend, instead of sending me off. Of course, how could Peter turn down the offer? Marcus just wanted to do right by his friend, and in his own words, help Peter "relieve some stress." Peter didn't actually think he was that stressed, but it would be rude to turn down the offer to go to a party like this in Marcus' stead... although that didn't actually stop Peter from trying. It was true what they said, "It's impossible to refuse Marcus Stevens."

Still, it couldn't be that bad. There were plenty of renowned attendees, and at least one of them could be a Nobel or Pulitzer winner, or at least someone who wasn't shallow and just flaunting their wealth. Someone Peter could talk to without insulting. Hearing the comment made by the woman by the car about the announcement, Peter butted in, "If I were to guess, I'd say the announcement is some charity or other self-righteous crusade, and this party is a way of gathering a bunch of donations from the rich." Marcus had saw this coming, and had informed Peter to make a donation in his name in case of that event, no matter what cause the charity is for. "It's good for publicity," he was told.

Ashe seems to not listen to the man when she rubs her nose - the snow tends to make her almost want to sneeze, like an allergy. Then she says, "It seems to be quite an expensive event just for a charity. I'm—"

She pauses. This guy in his tuxedo, could he be one of the naturally rich and wealthy? She would hate to embarrass herself from sounding so ignorant. Of course, they'll have these things considered beforehand - people like him may just as well be willing to give to whatever cause, with all this much effort put into the extravaganza. That is.. if they're really after people's donations.

"I'm here.. erm, without one of the invitations," she goes, and immediately thinks she's fumbled her lines, putting a gloved hand to her cheek. "Were you invited?"

Peter chuckled slightly at the woman's question. "Of course I was invited, there's no one they want at these parties more than an unemployed physics major." He rolled up the sleeves of his suit which was several sizes to large before continuing. "No... I wasn't invited, but my friend was. He doesn't like attending these sort of things, so he gave me his invite as a favor... Not that I wanted to attend, though."

"Oh, sorry, how rude of us, I'm Maria, and this is Fred," Maria said, shaking Ashe's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you all," Fred said, "but we weren't invited either." Believe it or not, he thought, showing a minor miffed expression, but saying nothing else.

"Well, whatever all this is for, I sure hope it's fun, at least," Maria said.

Meanwhile, a futuristic sports car drove up to the front of the line, as a smartly-dressed man in a blue and black suit exited the car confidently. He appeared a bit short, with an expensive haircut, and had some sort of robotic arm as his left. A few people greeted him, and a variety of murmurs could be heard from the crowd, indicating something along the lines that he was Sharam Ramanathan - some sort of famous(?) robotics engineer, even though many had never heard of him before. 'I hear he always arrives on time to these things' 'I wonder if he has something to do with the big announcement' 'Cool car.'

And, of course by design, he had arrived at almost exactly the moment the gala opened, as the guests began bunching up for the opening announcement, his car driving itself away and to the parking garage.

OOC: He's not really part of the group, more for future developments, and to get the ball rolling on the gala...

edited 1st Sep '12 1:30:36 PM by Sonzai

(OOC: Okey-dokies.)

"Hmm," Ashe says, having a thought occur to her. She pulls out her iPhone 6S, and finds the contacts listing on the phone. "Since it seems we're total newbies to this sort of gig, why don't we keep in touch with one another? At least, so I can keep myself oriented when I get lost along the crowd? Here is my number.. (555-0100)"

As she begins exchanging numbers with her new lovely acquaintances - behind Sharam's car is a very sleek Corvette, its windows tinted dark and having gaudy rims◊. The Corvette slows to a halt by the Plaza's entrance. This would seem like any other car passing as spectacle until, from its loudspeakers (somewhere), it shouts out an announcement - "Ladies and Gents, I know you've been waiting a while out in the snow.."

And out the Corvette's door pops Victor Ziegler, a brizzled middle-aged gent in a bowler hat, whose inordinate sleek dress attracts everyone's attention (and much camera flashes!) to his plumpy figure. Everyone seems to quiet down for his presence. "I'm Victor Ziegler," he tells, "and tonight you're going to be in for one hell o' a Christmas treat! Hohoho, if you'll please.."

He strides over to the Plaza's doors, where the bouncers herd the attendees away to make room. Victor unlocks the doors - the golden rays of light radiate outwardly into the night - and after him, the waiting lines begin to head forth into the chambers.

Ashe makes her way through with her acquaintances, almost tripping on Maria's high heels. After crossing the doorway threshold, they're greeted by well-dressed ushers by booths, with a large sign: Present your invitations or have your $195 ready for entrance. All exits are final.

And from behind the glass, an usher asks them, "Will it be an invite? Or the $195?"

Ashe reaches for her wallet. She can hear the thumps of the first fireworks bursting into the dark heavens.

edited 1st Sep '12 12:21:28 PM by QQQQQ

Peter reached his left hand out, stopping Ashe from taking out her wallet, while at the same time retrieving his own from his pocket. "No need to pay, my invitation allows me one guest." From his wallet, he produced a small card which he then handed to the usher. The usher's eyes scanned the name on the card, before taking a look back at Peter. "Marcus Stevens? You look nothing like him."

"Prison changed me," Peter joked. The Usher, unable to argue with the valid invitation, allowed him to go through. Turning to Ashe, Peter added, "Our booth awaits."

After exchanging their numbers as well, Maria and Fred follow in after, paying their entrance fees.

Bah, guy thinks he's a bigshot now that he has someone else's invitation... Maria thought, giving Peter a mildly-disapproving look.

Once inside, Maria said to Fred, "now we're here to have fun, so that means no pestering me - go investigate the place or something."

"Yes, ma'am," Fred said jokingly before they split up, heading around the interior. He headed towards the hors d'oeuvres, while Maria trailed behind Peter and Ashe, looking over the other guests.

OOC:Er, also to clarify, anyone can talk to Sharam if they want to, I was just expecting him to hang out with the other elite for the moment at least.

One of the attendees had not been invited, and he had not paid one hundred and ninety-five dollars to get inside. He was a dark-haired young man named Jeremy Derringer, and he had been hired as part of the string quartet. They were tucked away in a quiet alcove, where they were expected to talk to no-one, and where no-one talked to them. Jeremy had spent many a party in such quiet corners. He could usually manage at least an hour of actual string quartetting before taking a restroom break from which he would return only four hours later, drunk, laughing, and having made seven new friends. Tonight, though, was special. Tonight was going to make headlines, and Jeremy would have chewed his own hand off to be a part of it.

"Five more minutes..." he told himself.

Five more minutes, and there would be a violinless string trio in that alcove.

Five more minutes and the night would be his.

Thanks to an unexpected windfall—specifically, a very inattentive businessman with a fat wallet and an affinity for alcohol—Angelus decided to give himself a treat.

He bought a tuxedo and overcoat in the style of his current "home" and paid his way into the gala that he caught wind of in the papers. It seemed that he would be around here for a while, so acquainting himself with modern culture wouldn't be a bad idea. Or getting good connections.

And if the rumors were true, his quarry was thinking the much the same.

With a cocktail in hand, he casually leans against a wall, seeking his wife's face, or her distinctively small figure. His bright blue eyes remain friendly and warm to the casual observer, but others might notice the strange intensity of his gaze, the thoroughly unwholesome, ravenous hunger burning within and marring the young man's good looks.

She can't not be here. He runs his fingers over the part in his cinnamon brown hair, unconsciously trying to make himself look nice for her, but anyone who knew that would probably think that his leer would make her run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.

Feel free to poke him and possibly ask what his problem is, but I'm going to bed now. The wife may or may not appear later.

A little further back in the line, perhaps a quarter of the way back from the ushers, stood a young boy of Asian descent. Unlike the shivering blind man he was holding hands with, the cold didn't seem to bother him at all- Daisuke probably would have even tried to catch some snowflakes on his tongue if he hadn't learned that they have dust in them.

True, there was something beyond precocious, even mature about the eight-year-old boy if one took the time to watch some of his subtle habits. His dark blue eyes wide and almond-shaped, the way that he scanned the crowd for other kids his age and had been doing so for over half an hour seemed oddly thorough and deliberate. Indeed, after the tenth scan through legs after moving legs, he had to give up and concede that there weren't going to be other kids at the party.

Daisuke looked up at his guardian for the night. His brownish hair looked a little messy like it usually did, but it wasn't like he could see well enough to do anything to it. He felt a little better about himself. "Matt? Are you awake?"

"Yeah?" he said softly.

How could anyone be cold in that cashmere coat of his? It went to his knees! "We're almost there..."

At that moment, he suddenly woke up and let go of Daisuke's small hand to retrieve the invitation from his pocket. The people ahead of them entered the warm glow of the lights inside while the usher, noting that Matt was blind by the cane he carried, greeted the two verbally, as if he hadn't been doing so for the other guests.

"Good evening, gentlemen." He accepted the invitation and gave Matt himself and his identification a cursory glance, enough to ensure they were the same person. At some point, it had dawned on the usher that this man was that actor, Matthias Cline, the one who was a triplet. Several celebrities had passed through tonight, but he had to check a second time, just to make sure, and it was definitely him.

After Matt retrieved his ID and confirmed that Daisuke was his one guest, the two, at long last, were welcomed into the party. The attendants took their coats. Matt was simply wearing the suit he bought for premieres, but he had always preferred neckties over bowties, even at his wedding.

Daisuke was dressed pretty much the same way, in a suit that he bought and that Matt had tailored for the boy a couple days ago. It was actually pretty comfortable, but no sighted person could deny that he looked adorably sharp.

The two strode onwards into the party, thankful that the few who did recognize Matt from his performances as various assassins, crime lords, and mafiosi left him and his young guest alone out of respect.

Fred checked out the hors d'oeuvres, picking up a few snacks and a free drink from some of the wandering food servers, and surveyed the hall nonchalantly.

He noticed someone looking rather uncomfortable, searching the room carefully. Wondering just what was eating him, Fred walked up to Angelus and said, "Looking for someone?"

OOC: Maria is also available to talk, she's just hanging around the floor, watching Peter and Ashe.

Hm, we've got the robotics guy, a holographic specialist, lots of actors, and that guy who runs the hot dog cart down the street, the man in the Fedora outside thought. Well, no point staying outside - if there's going to be a party, it looks like inside's the stage...

He casually walked around the block, and to the service entrance for the hotel. Flashing his badge, he was let in the back, and proceeded up the stairs until he reached the upper balcony, looking out over the hall. Handing his trenchcoat to a staff member, he was dressed in a well-fitting suit, still wearing his trademark fedora. A few other guests were up here as well, but being mostly alone - he surveyed the scene from above, leaning on a handrail.

OOC: He's also available if anyone wanders up to the balcony, but don't expect to get a lot out of him right now. :P

OOC: Also, going to be a bit busy today.

edited 2nd Sep '12 9:00:11 PM by Sonzai

"Oh! Yes... er...." Angelus pretends to be completely flustered, smiling nervously at Fred and failing to realize that the sudden change in manner might be a bit jarring. "My wife is a rather, ah, nervous individual, also rather prone to fainting, and I'm afraid I've lost her during one of her panics. She 'forgot' to take her meds this morning and conveniently mentioned it right when we were waiting in line. She needs them as soon as possible or there'll be some trouble. When she's on the meds, she'll take them by herself with a bit of persuasion, but the more it wears off, the more difficult it is, so I hope I find her soon."

He pats a lump inside his coat and sighs. It's an ordinary pill bottle that he found in the trash and filled with something of his own invention. "I can't let her carry them. If I don't watch her, she'll dump them in the toilet."

edited 2nd Sep '12 7:55:52 PM by SnowyFoxes

Four and a half more minutes...

Four and a half more mintes...

Trenchcoat-and-fedora caught Jeremy's attention, surveying the scene from a balcony. Jeremy rolled his eyes. He wasn't exactly a subtle man, but at least he didn't go around with "PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR" written on his forehead. That was what business cards were for.

He came to a measure of rest, turned his wrist enough to check the time, and swore.

Four minutes and twenty seconds...

"Okay..." Fred said, clearly not expecting quite such a response, "maybe I could help you look? What does she look like?"

Seriously, these two sound like they have their hands full... he thought.

OOC: Sorry for such a short post, but don't want to leave anyone else behind, but not keep anyone waiting too long...

(OOC: Apologies for ze absence. Maybe you may also note how it seems I'm pedantic about the formalisms - handing in coats, the itty decorations, etc.)

"Than-nk you!" Ashe goes to Peter. How lucky that these invitations do allow for an extra guest - not that she would consider herself to be a ploying opportunist, but still, you have to appreciate whatever luck comes your way.

The grand hallway has just ballooned from the outside gust of guests, who shiver off Jack Nicholson's Frost's chilly touch in what appears to be a golden palace. Ashe is looking up in awe of the incandescent chandeliers on the ceiling murals - her gaze shifts from guest to attractive guest, from carved statue kneeling atop a fountain pedestal to the bouquet of roses and snacks on the tables. Her eyes drinking more and more of these marvellous sights in.

Then Ashe sees where everyone is handing their coats to the attendants by the counter. She reveals her petite dress to the public, and worms her way over between people - finally having her coat taken care of. (They also gave her a ticket; her's is no. 49, and lest you forget to tuck it safe in your pocket.)

You can hear the music begin to bellow down the hall - it is Strauss's Blue Danube, playing somewhere. For Ashe, it complements everything she is already feeling about the place. Drawing her into a mood for a dance even. Is there a ballroom somewhere around? Perhaps.

Her first thought for a dance partner would be Peter, but it seems he is nowhere to be seen. And what about Fred— he's already preoccupied, chatting with another man in a tux. Since Ashe doesn't want to butt in - ooh, there's Maria. And once she's weaved her way to Maria, Ashe asks her, "Do you feel up for a dance? Girl-to-Girl?" (OOC: )

She has kept her gloves on as her hands are outstretched for this offer.

edited 2nd Sep '12 9:15:46 PM by QQQQQ

Angelus brightens up immediately as he summons a mental image. "She's a little under five feet tall, has short black hair, brown eyes, isn't wearng too much makeup, and—"

He has no idea what she's wearing.

"Er, well, last time I checked, she was wearing a red gown, but, you know, when she tips a little further off the rocker—" he clears his throat and takes a sip of his cocktail.

All right, that might have been going too far. "Have I... disturbed you? Dreadfully sorry if I have. I wouldn't be feeling all too well if I came to a party and heard something like that." With a nervous smile, he checks his watch. "Well, there's plenty of time left. Sorry again. Say, what's your name?"

edited 2nd Sep '12 9:50:10 PM by SnowyFoxes

Wait, do they do that kind of dancing here...? Maria thought, slightly taken aback by the suggestion, this place seems a bit conservative, but ... eh, who cares what they think? It's hard to find people open to this sort of thing sometimes...

"Sure, sounds like fun, do you want me to lead?" Maria said, taking Ashe's hand with the confidence of one who had been to somewhere on the order of fifty of such dance events before - even if not entirely by her decision. Being one of the ruler's main subordinates had its advantages, such as being invited to numerous state dinners and parties - as well as its disadvantages, such as ... being invited to numerous state dinners and parties. At least she got to lead some of the time, following is such a pain when the other has no clue what dance they are currently participating in.

OOC: No problem with the other details - I usually just kind of assume they happen naturally - I guess it's the short-story writer in me. I should probably practice a bit more even so...

"I'm Fred, pleasure to meet you. What brings you here?" Fred says to Angelus, watching his questionably-stable demeanor carefully, "Oh, and I'll be sure to keep an eye out for her - always glad to be of help. I've had my fair share of dealing with unstable situations," an understatement if there ever was one, "but do you think we should call the security or guest relations office?"

Of course, if there's someone running around naked at a party like this, we won't need to call anyone...

edited 2nd Sep '12 9:56:16 PM by Sonzai

"I'm Angelus. And I'm just here for a nice night out with my wife, but... well, I just explained, didn't I?" He grimaces and scans the crowd again. "Yes, perhaps we should tell security, but we'll have to warn them to be discreet. If she notices people ganging up on her, things won't be pretty. You wouldn't mind coming with me, would you?"

There's no doubt she snuck in her weapons, like Angelus did. He knows how her mind works.

He fingers the pocketwatch in his coat and the unnervingly intense hunger appears in his eyes again as he bites his bottom lip.

Daisuke wove through and around pairs and pairs of legs, some in pants and some in sparkly dresses, following the smell of yummy food. Somehow, Matt was keeping up and managed to find the boy loading his plate up with golden fingerling baked potatoes and cheesy pastries of some kind. The man smiled and let out a chuckle, opting instead for an apple for the time being as he located the nearest table. Daisuke sat down and wasted no time shoving an entire miniature pastry into his mouth.

He swallowed. "So, Matt. Why'd you bring me here?" Daisuke took a bite of a potato this time.

Matt set his apple on the place setting in front of him. "Well, I don't seem to recall your father having much money or the courtesy to take you out of that apartment for fun." He tapped the tablecloth idly. "You also need to get off that ramen diet every now and again."

"Really?" He raised a pastry to his mouth. "I thought you went to parties all the time." Chew, chew, swallow.

He began to cut the edible fruit off his apple in chunks. "Correction; I get invited all the time. Sometimes, they're so exclusive I'm not even allowed to bring Bianca with me. I like to ignore those." He ate one of the chunks by hand. "Plus... this one couldn't have been more opportune. Bianca's at a movie with her mother, so I chose you for the night."

"Oh." His attention had shifted back to his plate. In all honesty, Daisuke sort of asked in the first place because he liked Matt's British accent- it was fun to listen to. He couldn't resist.

"Besides... being able to amuse yourself at fancy parties without getting thrown out is sort of a life skill."

Daisuke looked up at Matt. As expected, he was doing that unsatisfyingly secretive smile that adults seemed to like doing so much. The boy shook his head and turned back to his plate, undeniably the more interesting of the two.

A spectator, watching the two unlikely friends banter, might have thought otherwise. Matthias Cline sort of had an uncanny look to him that was common among celebrities, one that simply looked too good to be true but- fortunately or unfortunately -was indeed true. Brown-haired and soft-featured, he looked at least half his stated age of thirty-eight. Despite apparently being blind, he preferred to leave his eyes unobscured, showing their odd near-violet color as he attempted this activity of people-watching with minimal success.

Strauss's Blue Danube was now playing, and while Peter was never very interested in music of any kind, he couldn't deny the Atmosphere it lent to at this event... not that Peter liked the atmosphere, as the music along with the dress code and general attitude of the guests only served as a reminder of how little Peter belonged in a place like this. Worse still, he found himself being approached by several eager guests who wanted to ask a series of questions about Marcus. Why couldn't he have just sent his assistant? Peter thought, do they really expect me to know about all of his business plans?

It was then that Peter looked over to Fred and the other man who he was talking with. Fred didn't look like the kind of person that would attend these events on a regular basis either, so perhaps Peter could get a normal conversation out of him. Making his way over to the two men, he asked, "So... enjoying the party so far? What are you guys talking about?"