Re: Ball: Clementine, Irene & Declan
"I ain't got a clue what you mean 'bout my motives, Declan Murphy." Clementine was syrup sweet, and her smile said she was funning him, and it wasn't even that champagne gone fuzzy in her head none. It was playacting, and she was slipping into it real easy. And that, that was just determination. She had a whole lot of things she yearned to leave behind for the night, and she was real good at mind over matter. No kin gone, no babies missing, no tongue sent, no daddy lying dead. No kissing on a dock she was trying not to focus on. None of those things, and only pretty clothes and real cordial company, and that was all real good with Clementine.
She chuckled easy when Declan said he wasn't good at things called fun, and it wasn't even a lie any. But he was talking to the redhead in the room, and Clementine just spread out her sage skirts as she made the bed her front-row seat. Champagne empty now, she set the flute aside and leaned back, weight on her hands, and she really did hate that damn corset something terrible.
Irene held out a hand, and Clementine inclined her blonde head. She was thinking on rules 'bout not dancing with kin, but only some, and she smiled warm and real pretty to Irene. "Could be I'm real good with my view just here." Whether that was true or not, it was impossible to tell. Clementine, she'd leaned acting at her momma's knee, and this was turning into a role, stage beneath her feet and a whole lot of spotlight. "Taking a turn with a relative, it's real scandalous. Is taking a turn with a woman better any?" She winked, playful, and not a damn thing seeming serious in her whole body.