Constitution Characters: Tony, Moira, Justin, Cassie and Sue Setting: Design Industry Foundation's Dining by Design Gala Dinner, Pier 94, NYC. Content: Tony will do his best not to make an ass of himself this time. Summary: Dressing up and donating money is a really good excuse to network, and by 'network' I mean hey look Moira is back in town!
Cocktail hour was probably worth the bulk of the 'recommended donation' ticket price, but an open bar and the progressively more tipsy socialites definitely wasn't worth the anxiety. Besides, Tony had been having a terrifically difficult time finding his pants, and while Raven was willing to brave the pathetic situation to assist his search on every suspect surface of the condo, it wouldn't be socially acceptable to arrive half dressed. By the time they were both presentable, him in charcoal on grey with a boldly pink tie and matching kerchief teased artfully out of his breast pocket and her in a complimentary drop-waisted, silk number from another era, they were checking their coats just as the assembled were being seated for dinner. Perfectly timed, really, because missing dinner would have been a true tragedy: the innovative, individual dining installations that local design students fought for the chance to be involved in were the real show of the night, and the uninhibited cross-section of the investment opportunities New York had to offer Tony was seated with combined with the display of talent from the up and coming design teams was a process of conception. Granted, this was at the most optimistic. At the other end of the spectrum, Tony could be sitting with an insufferable slew of morons partying on daddy's dime at a table made of corpses meant to be some kind of statement on where the food came from, squeezing Raven's hand every time he was forced to smile through his scowl. There were cameras there, after all.
As it was, the start was actually pretty positive. Their table was an elegant, starkly white layout, housed in its own reflective white fibreglass box wide enough to not feel claustrophobic and at least a story and a half tall, open on one side with just a delicate curtain of silky, green strands. The colour continued in an impressively detailed, minuscule labyrinth model that spanned the length of the table; perfectly trimmed hedges arranged in a twisting maze that led to a miniature, working fountain at the centre of the table with its own tiny stone cherubs, potted plants, ornate topiary and benches to rest the eye all along the way. It was modern, controlled, not overdesigned or underachieved. Tony had to wonder if he got lucky, or of all of the other installations were actually this quality. The company he found himself in didn't quite meet the standard set by the table they sat at, but Tony at least had Raven to share a private smile with when the conversation threatened Tony's patience.
After the dinner, though, they were set free, and Raven was difficult to hang on to. Without his anchor in a turbulent sea, Tony kept close to his table for some time, leaning against the fibreglass wall behind the flimsy protection of the curtain, the name card he had plucked from his place setting held between two fingers against a glass of ice water, the paper starting to warp from the droplets of condensation blooming across it. He could see a few of the other installations from there, the stage and the dance floor that not too many people were drunk-confident enough to take to, and just the sign pointing towards the silent auction where he suspected Raven had snuck off to to perfect his signature. At least, even if the table was the only good part of this night and Raven got liberal with the gifts to herself, all of the money was going to an underexposed cause; usually, the Design Initiative donated to AIDS research, but tonight was for the Legacy virus, and the turnout wasn't underwhelming despite the weak line of protesters outside. Inside, Tony recognized a few faces in attendance, too, but not too many he really wanted to get tied to. There must have been someone here he didn't hate. This was so much easier after a three martini dinner.