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loki laufeyson (toberuled) wrote in rooms,

He came up and sat down next to her like he'd been there for hours already, a glass of champagne in hand and his tie undone and draped over one shoulder. He had a woman on his arm, her hair a sticky looking red from too much henna, a long string of silver and rock crystal glittering around her neck. He was just wrapping up a charming anecdote about another party as they came down the stairs, just as everyone always seemed to be. All anyone ever talked about was other parties.

But he passed the girl off to a man with narrow, wire-framed glasses, who she had met at the most charming shindig across town. They paired off, and the man who had been at her side broke away, settling in on the steps beside the girl in the pretty floral dress, tipping the champagne to his lips. He set the glass down on the marble. Not bad, but it was, after all, just part of the costume.

"You look a bit out of place," he said. The accent was good, accurate to the period and the place, erudite and educated and decidedly American Elite. He had green eyes and red hair slicked back against his head like an Irish descendant made good, vaulted into the sordid company of the ultra rich. He knew the basics of the politics of the era. He had visited, once upon that time. His appearance, a little unconventional even for this party, was a tip of the hat to outsider status, just enough to stand out from the crowd, to seem not-quite-right.

She did look too soft for a place like this, translucent like good porcelain with all these hard, shiny precious stones glittering around her. "Shall we go somewhere a little more private?" he asked. He offered her his arm. His smile offered warmth, his eyes crinkled at the edges with kindness.