Roxanne & OPEN Finally. Something fun was happening. Not that Roxanne wanted to talk badly of her uncles and the rest, but man this place was a downer. Perhaps that's what happened when a load of dead people got together. Or should-be dead people, anyway.
Having wandered into the room with a box of (more or less) fixed fireworks under her arm, Roxanne had dropped them off and promptly wandered off in search of a drink. Ideally something sugar filled and fruity - it was a party, after all. Of course, the selection wasn't quite London bar standard, but it was better than she'd expected. She was able to create some kind of concoction that was vaguely drinkable, anyway.
Taking a sip of her bright red drink and vaguely wondering where the tiny umbrellas were at, Roxanne stepped away from the drinks table and looked around. Her dark gaze landed on a chair with an elaborate high back and carved feet and arms. That would do. Bounding over to it, she draped herself over the worn seat and helped herself to another gulp from her glass as she scanned the gathering crowd.