[Gala, Capital: Burden & Damian]
In truth, Damian had not intended to attend the "anti-ability" gala occurring in the Natural History Museum. It was not a cause he cared to support, even if it was what he was meant to do, for the sake of publicity. Damian, however, did not engage as an heir to such a legacy ought. There were motions one was meant to perform, dues meant to be paid as the price of one's great influence and wealth. Damian was unruly in this manner, a difficulty that plagued those at Wainright Industries. In an unseen turn of events, however, the man had altered course and decide he would, in fact, attend this gala. None would dare warn him to behave as he ought, but, he had reassured those upon the board, et cetera, that he was act as was expected of him. He could not say if this allayed their fears, and, ultimately, he did not care.
He had arrived punctually. His dress would remain a topic of whispered conversation and multiple insinuations that would cease should he get near, but it was beneath Damian to take note of such. In contrast to Burden, Damian did not occupy a lazy slouch. I have already made not of his lack of interest in behaving per expectations. Instead, Damian stood with impeccable posture, with his chin lifted and his expression haughty, perusing the space in a methodical manner.—When he espied what it was he had been after, he followed it. His shoes clicked on the industrial tiles underfoot, as the floor transitioned from aged wood.
The stalls in the bathroom were empty, save one. Damian glanced at the feet beneath the privacy divider, then turned to the mirror. He inspected himself carelessly, his gaze a glide over his own features with feigned preoccupation, until the offending stall door opened. Then, if he was able, he did seek to make eye contact with the thief in the reflection. Damian recalled his lessons, yes? "The black," he allowed in his odd, flat-footed voice, "suits you."