Lydia hadn't been in long. She usually didn't get back before dawn- if you were going to go out you might as well go out, and so she had. The problem was Sanguis wasn't Lybvian, or Silver City. She missed Deep Blue, and Tanqueray Storm, Violet Fury, Charmed... although she had to admit the Nighthawk was a perfect place to end the night. Except on nights where some idiot decided to flaunt Tank's rules. She was never going to be able to get the blood out of her pale blue pumps.
She slipped in the front door barefoot, holding the ruined shoes in one hand, and a soda bottle in the other, glitter stuck in her hair and lightly dusting her arms. Lydia wasn't entirely sure how that had happened but she was mostly certain it had something to do with the sparkly tiara on her head. Just because the night ended early didn't mean she'd started it late.
Lydia dropped the shoes and soda on a convenient table, and tried ineffectually to brush the glitter off as she walked. It was intriguing just how the shiny bits wouldn't ever all come off-- Noise? Lydia stopped short and tilted her head. Yep, sound. Sound from... Her eyes went wide and she ran toward one of the living rooms- well, the one really, since it had her father's favorite chair in it.
"Father?" She called from just outside the door, and didn't have to look twice to spot him lounging. "You're back!" Lydia half-leaped at the back of the chair to wrap her arms around Gunnar, her feet dangling as she laid across the chair back to hug her father's shoulders- if there was a picture of how a princess should greet her father it was probably smoking in indignation at her method. In fact if there was a picture anyone would have of how to greet the Drake Consort, jumping up and hugging him from the back probably didn't figure into it for anyone less than suicidal.