Rictor/Aspel - early evening.
"Well. That's sorta what happened to me." Rictor mulled over the subject she'd presented him with; it was a heavier sort than he'd expected to discuss tonight. Noble balls were all aimless fripperies and socialisation and talk of summer houses, winter manors, vintage wines and artisinal breweries, antique furniture and exquisite craftsmanship, the latest parties and fashions.
But then again, this was Aspel, not any of the other noblemen or -women.
"I mean, I guess it still makes sense, completely objectively. But it's like..." Rictor faltered, falling silent, struggling to find the right words. He'd never been the master wordsmith. "Like there's a pretty veil draped over all of this bullshit, but that's all it is, just decoration. After you've seen life outside of what we should be, this is all just... gauze."