Don't You Love Farce? Who: Psylocke (open to HFC types) What: Just your typical fancy dress Hellfire Club party. Attend at your own risk. When: Core Date 19.03.2867, Friday evening Where: Shaw Summer Home, HFC, Core Warning: TBD
Everything about the room and the party and the people who had been invited to it should have appeared to be the pinnacle of perfection. The Shaws had, once again, created a lavish, rich environment full of tastefully done decorations and just the right amount of furniture. The band was not only playing at just the right level so as not to make it difficult to hold a conversation but also making sure that nothing they did play was interesting enough to distract someone. Every course on the buffet table had been selected so as not to interact badly with the other or with anyone's allergies. Even the colors in the house had been altered so that they were sedate and neutral. Of course the typical Hellfire Club palate was there: white, black, gray and red. No one was dancing. Everyone had splintered off into small clusters, talking low and graciously, their expressions as hidden as possible.
Betsy Braddock had been ready to leave five seconds after she had walked in and been greeted by the hosts, but that was an impossibility. Etiquette dictated that she at least stay for five point three hours. So far it had barely been forty-five minutes. At the moment she was fervently wishing for more Club colors just to brighten things up a bit. A blue or purple would have been lovely. Purple was the color of royalty, after all, so it would only make sense for it to be present in their collective. Even silver and gold, as tacky as that combination would have been, would have been preferable to the rather bland palate in front of her. Her family's color, the red, had even been managed to be drained of life somehow.
As was befitting the custom, she had dressed in her family's color: red. Not the dull red on the walls, though. The red of her dress, which had a plunging neckline and a skirt split well up her thigh, was bright red, a garish splash of color in all the neutral. It had earned her a fair share of scornful and appreciative looks so far. She greeted all of them with her best imitation of a smile and reminded herself that quite a bit of this was being done for a higher purpose. Purposes rather. To keep Brian as far away from this world as possible, and to secure more information for the Rebels. If possible. It was problematic to try and probe a whole room of Hellfire Club members and their families so she was keeping close to the vest.
Plucking a glass of some fancy champagne that was all the rage because it came from a tiny Fringe planet the Shaws owned, she turned towards the unhappy looking man to her right. "Two options. We talk of the weather like good lemmings or put this wide expanse of floor to good use. Your pick."