((If anybody thinks this is moving too fast and they want to go another round before I do this, then let me know and I'll edit!))
John stumbled a bit when Henry led him away, his toes catching on one another and knocking him against Henry's arm. He leaned heavily against the wall when Henry turned him around, staring up at him with drooping eyes. What was wrong with him? The twelve glasses of punch were a great start, but there was no doubt something more substantial that had been triggered when Charlie paid such attention to Henry. It burned red onto his cheeks when he wound his fingers into Henry's jacket collar, giving him a rough tug, his strength not held too well in check and perhaps tugging harder than he should have. The idea of Henry getting close to Charlie once more assaulted his foggy mind, and as he pressed forward to smush his mouth into the vicinity of Henry's lips, the name of the thing that plagued him spoke its name. Jealousy. It wasn't Charlie's fault. How could he have known? A sober John would have smiled and played along, never showing an indication of untowardness, but that unexpressed energy had to go somewhere, just waiting for an opportunity such as this one.
After pulling away from Henry's mouth (at least, he was mostly sure it was Henry's mouth. He was fairly certain he had not been swabbing Henry's nostril with his tongue, but he could have been doing anything.) John licked his lips to sip the taste off of them, and put a hand to the middle of Henry's chest. He gave him a push off and limped away from him, the fingertips of one hand streaking against the wall for guidance. He made his way out to where the others were still making merry, Charlie now dancing with Allaster and Alec still pounding away on the piano. It wasn't an unpleasant scene, actually. They all looked nice together. One day soon they would be a very tight little group. But still... Charlie had managed to raise a grudge in little Johnny Saville, one that he looked forward to satisfying before they would be on proper footing again.
"Oh, squire!" he called in the sweetest chirpy voice he could muster. Unfortunately, the effect was very poor through the slur. John made it to the piano and stuck his hand heavily onto the first half-dozen keys, producing a terrible screechy clank. "Don't forget that you have more tasks to complete. You've proven your love and willingness to serve. But what about your honor? Your loyalty? Are you prepared to lay down your reputation and your life for us?"
He got off the piano keys after his rude interruption and straightened up, raising both eyebrows and staring down his nose in a way he most likely learned from his blue-blooded mummy. There was rampant debauchery afoot but this wasn't a brothel: it was still a playground for elite children. And John was about to tell Charlie to do the most degrading thing a rich boy could think of.
"As you must imagine, this entire production is terribly expensive." He gestured to the room at large. One hand went awry and knocked his fez off his head. He picked it up and put it on backwards, not noticing. "So to keep up our nice things, we need you to collect some dues for us. Not just any dues, however... we have a special costume we'd like you to wear. To keep in the spirit of the evening." His smile was thick with something less than his usual kindness.
"Lord Allaster, go and get the outfit."
By the outfit, he meant the lady's dress, corset, and drawers he'd stashed in the closet. There was also a pretty (gaudy) yellow wig and some bold red lip rouge, and of course a pair of pink high heels that would be impossible to walk in, let alone wear.