Victor was rather excited when his owner asked him to attend a party. It had been a very long time since anyone had really looked on him with pride in their eyes, he must be doing something right to have earned the invite. Not that Anole had done anything to impress in the arenas, but his charms, unique appearance and excellent brew had earned him a bit of fame at the coffee shop. It was both funny and disgusting how dependant one could become on the approval of their owners when locked within the society of Revolve.
All but beaming with delight that he had impressed enough to be invited, the ever dramatic Vic dawned a white suit over a white tuxedo shirt, not bothering with a tie or bow tie. It made his green skin stand out all the more and left him looking polished and sleek, or so he thought, at least. He had no hair to comb so he had simply made sure his clothing was in order, showing the outfit off once for Damphyr before he followed his owner to the party. Rik was a touch shorter than Victor, dressed in a far more expensive suit, yet looked far worse in it. He was not an entirely unattractive man, he just did not have that sparkle, that charisma which Vic flaunted so easily.
Green eyes moved around the room, his mood calming and relaxing the moment he stepped inside. He appreciated the lighting and noted the fine, glimmering cut of the crystal the drinks were being served in. Vic could not help but notice little details such as that. He made sure to keep close to Rik, not wanting to cause trouble or draw unwanted attention to himself, and was just settling into the room when he spotted the centerpiece. So caught up in the details, Vic had not even glanced to the bound and gagged girl on display. His stomach twisted before dropping, his face quickly turning away.
"Oh God," he whispered, reaching for an arm that was not there. Of course Mason had not come, he had not even been invited. The man would not behave, Vic was staring to wonder if he even could. He found the edge of a table and used it to support himself, keeping his eyes averted off the woman. Anole had a habit of romanticizing things, of finding the best in the situation, in making his life better than it really was. Moments like this reminded him of just how little they really meant to these people, just how they were seen.
"I'm fine," he assured Rik a moment later, forcing himself to stand straight, willing his head to clear, refusing to look to the woman again. Smile, be charming, put on a good show for the richies, maybe it would keep him out of the pits for another week. Maybe. He rarely drank, but did order a cranberry juice with the slightest splash of vodka in it to try and settle his nerves, the empathy at work in the room already helping him do that. He sipped the drink a bit more quickly than he intended, telling himself with a slight wave of guilt that at least it was not him, not Pixie, not anyone he knew. It was a terrible, selfish thing, but he seriously doubted any mutant on the island had not thought it at least once. It was a part of their survival here. While Vic often made surviving look easy, tonight he could not help but think how miserable their situations really were.