Mezzanine
Cleopatra traded an empty champagne glass for a new and different decadence and she gave a lazy wave to dismiss the waiter as if she'd been giving them all her life. The smile on her face as she drank was pure hedonist, and it stayed a little longer at the obeisance of a nod, laughing.
"Not really one for history lessons," she said, and the way she sat with her legs stretched out before her in comfortable enjoyment of surroundings and of luxury gave the hint the costume had been chosen for how it looked rather than what it meant. "What are you, then?" It was half-interested: no inhibitions to prevent the asking and a leaning forward on elbows to show that Cleopatra was more interested in the woman across from her, why she had chosen what she'd chosen than the costume itself.