The City: Sasha, Jude, Oliver
Sasha hadn't quite believed Jude when he told her to 'gussy up'. She only owned a handful of clothes, but thankfully during a particularly eventful boutique run in Martinique, she had picked up two very expensive French designer dresses that she had managed to keep during her relocation. One of those dresses? On right now. Black silk brocade that her body may as well have been poured into the dress' dangerous curves which shimmered with every swing of her hips. Wild brown spirals had been blown out into soft princess curls and worn over one shoulder. It was a far cry from her usual boho chic. She barely looked like the same person.
Sasha hated these sorts of gatherings. They were stuffy and pretentious and full of the sorts of people that thought they were above everyone else. The sorts of people that had enough disposable income to throw a party like this while there were kids going hungry and freezing to death out there. If you have this sort of money, you should do something worthwhile with it. This was just a waste.
On the other hand, this whole party? Color her impressed, Jude. When the arm was offered, deep red lips parted into a toothy smile, and Sasha slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, "Lead the way." At least it wouldn't be boring, tonight.