And before she could lose her patience at the third question about her possible parentage, and the hint that she might not be good enough to be in this room, the reason she was here at all approached. Lottie knew Peitho was coming even before she saw her. There was a ripple of conversation that followed her around the room, it happened every time. It didn't even matter if it was a crowd of mortals or of fellow divinities, she just made a stir. Philotes was convinced that it was more than just her patronage too, it was something in the way she walked, the way she carried herself, that drew eyes and attention.
Something Lottie didn't have, and didn't even know how she'd get if she wanted to. It wasn't that Friendship wasn't pretty; she wasn't vain or anything, but she knew she was nice to look at. And it wasn't that she wasn't friendly, because, well... she was friendship. She was nice and helpful and generally people liked her. But they didn't look at her like she was a tall glass of ice water and they'd just stumbled in from a three-month trek across the desert like they did with Peitho.
When her friend reached her side, there was a subtle shift in the two matrons that had been quizzing her. Though it had been years since they were young enough, or trim enough, to catch the eye of any of the young men in the room, they still straightened already straight shoulders to push their more than ample bosoms even further forward. Their faces became a little closed off, they smiles not quite as wide, the eyes not nearly as open. They were jealous, Philotes realized, of her companion, just because of that certain something that drew the eye and attention. And they were probably going to gossip about her after they'd left. How rude.
Lottie deliberately looped her arm through Petty's and gave her a smile that was far more than merely friendly then placed a kiss on Persuasion's cheek that lingered just a tad longer than would be approved of. If the old biddies wanted something to talk about, Friendship would be happy to give them a juicy tidbit or two. “I am now that you're here. You outshine any other in this room. And you know I could forgive you anything. But I am being rude. Please, allow me to present you to Lady Jersey and Mrs. Drummond Burrell, the rather infamous patronesses here at Almack's. I am terribly sorry, madams, but I must beg your forgiveness. How could I help but abandon you when presented with such a companion as my dear, dear friend?”