After the final curtain, Honour had excused herself, promising her date that she'd meet him in the Grand Foyer shortly. Before he could object, she hurried from her seat on the floor and tried to get ahead of the crowd. She needed air, she needed a second away from it all, and so she stepped outside and into a darker alleyway for a few minutes... and then a few more minutes, until the flow of exiting people diminished to a trickle.
The opera had been wonderful; she'd never seen anything quite like it before. Honour couldn't name what it was that was making her so edgy; the night was beautiful, and she loved what she'd picked to wear, and her date was very kind. She should be happy; she should be smiling; and she wasn't.
But by the time she made it back inside, she'd mustered up a semblance of a smile. Wine was being served, and she couldn't deny that it would make things ever so much easier. She hadn't meant to jerk her elbow into the side of that mild-looking, tall young man while pulling back her champagne flute. She'd been too distracted, and now look what she'd done...
"Oh -- your pardon, monsieur," she begged, giving Dr. Crane an apologetic smile.