Reagan and Caius
Reagan wasn't quite drunk yet but she was getting there. Her wine glass never seemed to empty, and she knew she mostly had Caius to thank for that. He knew how she felt, being here, surrounded by people she more or less tolerated or loathed. It wasn't everyone, but right now just being around other witches was getting under her skin and making her irrationally aggravated at just about everything. Reagan had talked to her mother the evening before, and it went about how she expected it to. Veronica had been horrified, and then angry and after nearly an hour of arguing, Veronica had finally come to terms with what had happened... or at least accepted it enough to promise she would help Reagan find a way to retrieve her magic, if such a thing was possible. Veronica was being purposely distant and cool towards Reagan tonight, and that was just fine by Reagan. It wasn't the first time the two were at odds, and Reagan knew Veronica blamed Caius for all of this, so it was probably best that they weren't talking much right now. No need to cause a scene in front of all of her mother's friends. Her dad had been much more understanding and comforting, but he usually was, given he wasn't a witch himself, he couldn't quite grasp the implications of what losing her magic meant. All Alan Kelly knew was that his daughter was upset and he wanted to fix it. Unfortunately, he couldn't. No one could so far.
She was sipping another glass of red wine and only semi-involved in the conversation she was having with John McNamara, who ran the Point Pleasant Museum. Honestly, she had no idea what they were even talking about, but she said all the right things and smiled when necessary until someone else caught his eye and he excused himself. Relieved, Reagan turned to see Caius heading towards her. He looked so handsome with the deep red and his dark hair and eyes. Reagan hadn't opted for anything overly fancy, settling for an ankle length dress that nearly matched the color of the red wine in her glass. The V-neck plunged dangerously between her breasts, and the slit in the side showed a hint of leg when she walked. At least the alcohol was keeping her warm since she no longer had her fire element to keep her comfortable, even in the winter time. She desperately wished she could connect with him again on that deeper level, feel her magic hum and start to tingle when he was near her. Instead things just felt hollow inside, and Reagan took another sip of wine before she reached out to touch his vest, her fingers sliding along the soft material. "You look like a devil, you know... charming your way through the crowd, stealing souls," she said with a smirk. "I think I like it."
Despite what she was lacking, Reagan was an absolute vision to Caius. That dress hugged every curve and accentuated her natural coloring, and Caius already wanted to pluck her from this tedious party and take her home. He smiled at her words, amused and flattered at the same time. “Do I? If only that were the case,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss over her perfumed cheek. “I would steal any one of these souls for you.” Some of them were surely worth more than others. He thought again of holding Brianna McCarthy down in some back hallway and ripping her magic from her like it was a physical thing, but those were only passing desperate fantasies. Even without the more supernatural connection, he was tuned in enough to Reagan to know how miserable she was here, surrounded by so many of the higher-class witches in the area. Like her father, he wanted so badly to just be able to fix things, but they could only work with what they had. Caius took a swallow from his wine and cocked a thick eyebrow at his wife. “Care to dance?” he offered.