Mac and Jack Ballroom
At the house, when Mac came down the stairs, she picked up on the smile Jack held for just a second before dropping it to his usual look. "Careful," she said as she held out a manicured hand for him to take when she reached the last step, "People see that, and they might actually think you have a heart," she teased.
The limo was nice, and Mac was enjoying this little feeling of being spoiled. Especially after he had locked her up on the full moon and had made her go practically mad down in the basement that night. But a troubling thought crossed her mind during the ride. Was he conditioning her? Behaviorally? Oh no, Mac wouldn't stand for that. But there wasn't need to cause a commotion on this night, not when he gave her permission to go, and was doing all of this for the night. However, a counter plan did start to emerge in Mac's mind. She wasn't about to let herself be controlled by anyone.
She looked around at the other people there and tried not to be bombarded by the different scents of the supernaturals there. She even smelled a fairy and resisted the urge to try and figure out who it was. Fairies were fun with their glamour magic. But she was here as a slave with her master, which meant she probably couldn't just blatantly walk away from him.
She glanced at Jack the best she could in her mask, and gave a sly smile. "Well, sadly I don't have anything 'fun' underneath for later. I guess you'll have to take me shopping for that." She looked at him expectantly. She hadn't packed any of the sexy lingerie she owned because she had no idea what she was getting into. That, and she only packed one bag, and half of it was shoes.
"Though, there is a store in the city that has some fun things, from what I saw of their website, at least," she suggested coyly. Looking back at the crowd, Mac asked, "Am I allowed to walk around? Or are you determined to keep me antisocial?" Although is was a typical Mac-sarcastic remark, it lacked her normal harshness. It was more question that criticizing.