Desmond heard of the Duchesse de Praslin long before the chance to meet her ever came along, courtesy Mona's letters. He and Lust had lamented the way things played out once or twice -- what a pity, that it had been his counterpart and not him during those tumultuous days. The opportunity to pretend otherwise tonight... Well, it appealed to Desmond's sense of play. And vanity. And libido.
As Lust whispered filthy little declarations into his ear, Desmond smiled against her skin, as full of delight as he was adoration. They'd done little socializing thus far, but the New God's keen eyes were wide open despite his infatuation with the Sin in his arms, and there was little he missed.
That included CeCe's appearance by their side, a happy event he acknowledged by disentangling himself from Lust before turning to face the Goddess of Comfort Food. "Sweetheart!" he grinned, all fine silks and fabrics as the once-Lord Libera -- Reynard to his friends -- wrapped his arms around her and pressed a fond kiss to CeCe's cheek. "Don't be ridiculous. This place creeps like a cat, but if it means I get to have you both here at the same time, it's worth it."