Re: Social Life
"God damn, I look ridiculous." Solitaire muttered, examining her reflection in the mirror-polished elevator doors just before they opened onto the hall. "Utterly impractical. Can't even fly."
In point of fact, she looked anything but, her dress was black, simple, but expertly tailored, she never did know how Kat got her measurements, the woman was devilishly clever. It was cut low, as well as high, revealing a reasonable amount skin, but at least she could move, if not for the never-to-be-sufficiently-damned high heels that went with it.
The doors opened with a 'ting' and Solitaire gazed over the party. This is going to be interminable. She groaned inwardly. She hated parties and events, didn't like the social nuances and unwritten rules that went with them. Deep down, a small part of her was still terrified she'd make some unpardonable faux-pas such as picking up the wrong fork, saying the wrong thing, blinking at the wrong time or some other of the myriad of offences this strange world had. But she put her heel on that part of her, ground it down to next to nothing. Just part of the job, just smile, and it'll end eventually. She almost believed it.
Stepping out, and spotting Comstock and Impetus, Solitaire makes a beeline for them, and concentrates on projecting just enough Awesome to part the crowd for her, but hopefully not enough to draw any real attention. She arrived in time to catch Comstock's 'look' and returned a similar one, of the 'I know what you mean' variety.
"Pax'll be here. He never misses a chance to show off." She rolled her eyes, then added more quietly, "Though I don't know if there's enough space in the hall for his ego." Then she glanced over her shoulder, making dead sure he wasn't there.
"Sunflare's doing a light show you say? At least somebody gets to have some fun. I suppose if I'm lucky, boredom might kill me, though its probably too much to hope. Nothing else has managed that yet.
Solitiare sighed, audibly this time. Every once in a while, one of these things popped up she couldn't weasel out of. They were like her own little pocket of purgatory, and she was greatful she didn't do this type of thing for a living.