Family Table
It was entirely different, being on that raised platform, and even though she was not unaccustomed to playing this particular part, it was different this time. This wasn't a mission, and there wasn't a high-ranking official that she was supposed to be smiling at in just the right way. It was still pretending, of course, but it was different. She could only guess at the statement Thomas was trying to make, because it wasn't like she could ask him, not now, and so she took the seat when it was offered her, and she thanked the terrified waiter over her shoulder. "Don't mind him," she told the man, crossing her legs at the knee and fully conscious of the slit of thigh she'd just made visible. "He just needs a drink. Bring him one?" she asked, and it wasn't a question, not really.
The main course was being served, and she looked down the table and smiled at the other youngsters, the ones she did not know. "Luke still isn't back," she whispered to Thomas, keeping her voice unworried. Teenagers would be teenagers, her smile said, all for the benefit of the lovely men and women who worked with her. She was, very intentionally, not looking at the man who had helped her onto the dais for too long, because she knew emotions translated into fantastic photographs. Knew that what might escape his notice wouldn't escape a good reporter's notice.