Wanda arrived quietly and slipped into the throng, not feeling particularly sociable. She had no desire to be here, yet here she was. Nick texted her when he and Pietro returned from Siberia and asked if she was still sick then told her to show up at this thing if she could. Good PR apparently. Tonight would be all about pretending. Her little black cocktail dress was impeccable, her fake smile passable, and her eyes subdued. She made a beeline for the open bar, got a drink to sip on, and then found a wall to lean against while she feigned an interest in the music.