Gazing around the buzzing, devastatingly elegant penthouse, Qebhet felt another flutter of nerves. She'd managed to half talk herself out of going tonight; she was never good at parties, and everything about this symposium had seemed to scream class and sophistication and everything Qebhet was not.
But then Mrs Osei had happened. Mrs Osei was a mother lioness of a woman, a ninety-two year old Ghanaian great-grandma who'd marched into the funeral home this morning with her mortal remains and a lot of opinions. She'd given Qebhet one one, appraising look and demanded, What's a nice pretty girl like you doing working in a nasty old place like this, eh?
After a couple of hours' insisting that, no, really, she liked her job and no, ghosts were wonderful and perfectly healthy company for a girl like her and yes, of course she had friends her own age and no, she didn't have a partner at the moment but that was-- Qebhet had found herself snapping back quite uncharacteristically, I do go out! I go out all the time! In fact, I'm going to a party tonight!
Then she'd seen Mrs Osei's smug look of triumph, followed it to the invitation still lying in clear view on her desk where she'd been fretting over it, and realised she'd been expertly played.
Fortunately, Melinoe had been on hand to calm her brief panic, and by the time Mel and Makaria had arrived at Qebhet's apartment to get ready together, she'd been feeling a lot more settled about it. Now, smoothing down the cream-and-gold fabric of her dress, she determinedly pushed down her anxieties and smiled brightly at Makaria. "We all look amazing," she said, and meant it. "Thank you both for helping me."