miles, ari, & damia: the front
Ari would claim loudly to prefer the stage to clandestine affairs such as this. It was so satisfying to be commended for excellent performances. But she couldn't deny that the secret they held nearly made up for the lack of adulation and applause waiting at the end of this particular caper. A pair of platformed shoes concealed under a sweeping skirt made her taller and an elaborately styled blonde wig hid her simple bun; add in the hooked beak of a false nose and a bit of padding at the bust, and the costume du jour was complete. She swept along next to her make-believe husband, tugging him this way and that just discreetly enough to be noticed by anyone who looked at them for any extended period of time. Damia, needless to say, was ignored.
Such a very fine lady had little use for servants unless they weren't where they were supposed to be.
Miles had relayed instructions, so she simply played her role to the hilt, squinting as though just a bit nearsighted but far to vain for spectacles before directing him towards one of the pieces on display -- the ugliest, fattest cherub statue she could find, its face very nearly demonic, somehow (Faram help these people) sporting a discreet 'sold' sign hanging from its pedestal.
"We are late," she lamented, as though utterly ignorant of the fact that only the least valuable items would be shown to bidders first. "Oh, do you think whoever purchased this might entertain an offer? I am certain you could outbid the final price." The or else was very clearly implied.