Re: Cam - open to Allegra and Mischa Lenkeit
"Seriously, mate," said a voice that was certifiably British, potentially mocking, and just a bit dangerous, "you've got to check the blond thing. Because that stuff will end you. Also, I am wearing frippery and holding you accountable."
For someone who so claimed to hate "frippery" and generally stomped about as if born in a pair of motor boots, Allegra looked...good. Good in a way that went beyond the fit and hang of the fabric, or style of the cut, but dived all the way into the nebulous territory of poise. The dress was red, the skirt trailed--and Allegra wore it as easily as jeans. With her short, bright hair pulled back and the discreet, faultless make up in place, she also didn't quite look like her self. Instead she looked like--
"Was that Pacey? Doing the ceremony? Because that's absolutely--ah, fuck it." Allegra crossed her arms, looking bemused and resigned. "Should've guessed, really: your boss' family's everywhere, bloody weeds."
*You should offer congratulations to the couple,* chided a petal-soft voice in her head. *It's polite.*
Yeah, yeah, etiquette could cool its heels and damn well wait. Allegra's reason for attending the wedding itself was hardly a civil matter.
"So. That looks like a dance floor. With music. And dancing." Blond brows rose high. "Which you are noticeably not doing. Bit of an odd thing, that, Harp. I thought you broke an arm, not leg."