Re: Ball: Clementine, Irene & Declan
Declan, he was right about Murphys and parties. Her family, they were unapologetic 'bout not giving a damn what was happening outside themselves. They were the center of their own worlds, and Clementine figured Irene shared that trait, even if this room wasn't near masculine as Clementine expected it to be. But Murphys, they weren't made for altruism or catastrophes, and it made Declan and Clementine's choice of careers real interesting, and she reckoned they both had their reasons for staying.
When that door opened wider, letting her brother in, Clementine sat herself up in that froth of seafoam, but only after a few seconds passed. She let Declan walk on in, look around, look at her, and then she sat herself up in that sage and corset.
"You ain't interrupting, sugar," she assured him, real warm and like they'd always been close as siblings could be, though there wasn't a whole lot of similarity between the two of them. She took hard after her momma, and Declan was broad and blue-eyed and real different, even in that finery. "He wouldn't give a good damn if he was interrupting," she told Irene, warm, "but he'd make you forget you minded any, if he had an inclination to." Problem with Murphys was, as a rule, that they didn't give a damn what folks thought, so smoothing things over, it only came when it was convenient.
She stood, and she crossed to her brother and stole his champagne flute. A lingering kiss to his cheek, and the scent of magnolias clinging to her hair, and then she stepped back and sipped at the champagne.