(OPEN) Capulet Manor Costume Ball|(Fast paced)

[IRENE ADLER]

Irene could only half smile at the man as her makeup was falling off as she sighed, she must look ugly now as hell and maybe even worse oh god why did she even decide to come to this stupid ball in the first place.

I mean she wanted to see some new face but she was now uncertain about that and was now just trying to compose herself and mainting some sense of propierty in front of a gentelman who she did not know.But the man behind the mask did not mind her fit of tears, in fact his glistering watery eyes semeed to hint something else entierly she was wondering now what could it have been that made him so.

She hoped it was not her she would hate herself if it was , she could never forgive herself for ever bothering a man of high status, I mean the clothes made her seem more high status but she was just a london girlshe imagined that this man here had so much wealth that he could get whatever woman he wanted.

Then it happened that sudden change of tone, that voice, the words that spilled out not with an accent of french but something else was that really an english accent, was he english trying to trick her into thinking that maybe he was french or what was he.

She could not really reveal the identity of the man behind the mask if he did not really reveal it himself so she had no other alternatives but to wait for him to do so. But when would that be she was alredy excited to know the stranger and he seemed nice, polite, a true gentelmen, but why did he have to hide himself could he not show just a little hint of the man bellow.

No she assumed not since he composed his french accent and was no handing her a handkerchief , did she really think to expect some sort of emotion to come out and also the possible revelation of this gentelmen here was futile so she should stop dreaming whatever she was dreaming.

Taking the object that she was offered she cleaned her eyes and chuckled, " You must think I look very ugly mousier." she stated and wondered what kind of reaction would he have.

But his reaction did it really matter to her , only if her Holmes was underneath that mask, but that was only just a hunch of her self that this man maybe could be Holmes all along. She would just have a hunch it did not mean nothing at all, it was nothing that she could not really control or distract herself from thinking.

Yes she had to do just that distract herself as she placed back the dirty hanky on the mans hands and smiled a very happy smile that at least she had someone to accompany her.

[hamlet]

------------------------
Costume: Pardon my never-edited-a-photo-like-this photoshopping skills
(You get the idea 1930s-esque suit with a fedora)
Mask: Simple-mask-that-Harry-chooses-not-to-wear-but-its-on-his-person
(he might put it on once and a while though)
Find me on the front lawn
(its goin' dooown. )
-------------------------

Harry smiled at her compliance. Yes, it was an odd request, but Harry would rather spend time with Ophelia away from people, away from 'putting on a show' for the "rich and famous" inside the manor. He's been putting on a show for so long, he just wanted to take the time to...be in the moment, with Ophelia.

"I think that's a really great idea honestly. But I'm sorry if I have two left feet." she said, and Harry laughed a bit, loving to see her smile, and hear her laugh.

"Well..." He took one hand in his, slowly linking his fingers with hers. "Let's see how well we do together, shall we?"

He slipped his other hand behind her back, holding her close and slowly started leading her in gentle sway, hearing the gentle sounds of the party in the background and the slight breeze. And he took in this moment, holding Ophelia this close, and trying hard not to worry about anything else...not his uncle, not his mother, not living up to the public's expectations, not putting on an act, and not Hamlet Enterprises. Just being here...right here. Right here with Ophelia.

"Looks like we're doing alright," He said, just above a whisper, in her ear. He drew silent for a moment, taking in and resisting the urge to kiss her.

"Do you mind if I ask you something, Ophelia?" He asked.

[queenmab]

Costume
Roman Attire Baby
Maskie
Find me in the pool area.
It is totally goin' down.

(Don't mind Mercutio. He's pretty gone, and he's about to start crashing. It won't be severe, but he might feel a little sad.)

Tip...the ice burg, slipping until it crashed with the great Titanic and sent its many passengers into a sheer hell raising panic. Was Mercutio the ice burg...or the boat? He couldn't really tell, but as the minutes tolled by, he began to feel his senses overwhelm and swell, like he was losing his breath. The robe that hung from his shoulders, looking in magestic fashion to those on the outside, didn't help one bit. It only served to bind him and make him perspire. Desperately hot and thirsty, his tongue yearned to be moist once more. For the next party he prepared for, he'd best vow to choose an elaborate costume that wasn't as heavy, or to take less drugs. He should be taking less drugs period, but Mercutio had the heart of a stubborn and reckless little boy, obliviously fumbling towards disaster.

His grip on her hair became tight for a moment, savouring the soft threads between his fingers before he finally released them. His head was hammering out of nowhere. Ugh, what a mood ruiner! Mercutio squeezed his great blue eyes shut and winced, both fists clenched at his sides now. He cursed incoherently under his breath and gripped his forehead, trying hard to stablilize himself and in vain to make the pain vanish. After a few moments, the young woman opened her mouth. The sound of her voice was somehow different from those of most - exotic and melodic like a song. Mercutio organized the words she spoke. They served as the only calm admist his chaos.

"Nina of France? Say, were you hiding a baguette behind that face of yours? Or perhaps a moustache" he teased. "I'm Mercutio of here! Though my accent is a bit funny." And it was. He spoke in a slight West Yorkshire accent and with quite the British slang he adopted from his time in boarding school as a teen, and from being raised listening to his mother's English accent. It probably would never leave him.

He was ripe with things to say and questions to ask, but since he was beginning to crash, he'd probably begin to feel irritable and maybe even depressed soon. It all depended on how good those pills were, and what they had been laced with. Usually Mercutio didn't feel anything severe until the second day after, and that was only after he had taken too much, or something powerfully awful.

"Ugh..." he mumbled. "I don't feel so hot..." He stared at her expectantly, as if she held the magic cure to his sudden wooziness and discomfort. It was no longer overbearing, that was the plus, but he certainly wasn't feeling pleasant anymore.

[sasha]

:Costume:
Dress|Hair (sans brooch)|Mask (Top Right)|Necklace|Clutch
Find me in the pool area

Elissa didn't realize how much she missed Faustus's grip on her until she began to walk away from him. She was beginning to feel the effects of her drink tenfold, and her motor skills were rapidly declining while her mood was skyrocketing. She'd never felt this way before, and something in the back of her mind told her that this was not going to end up well. The alcohol was not to blame here, she reasoned. She felt almost split in two, her logical side buried deep within her mind, while this new, strange sensation overpowered it. Something had to be done about it, and the place to start was with the bartender. Suddenly, though, she was face to face with the doctor. She should have expected that...

"Treatjhoo like what?" she asked, her voice beginning to slur. "And what do I like? Oh, and what'sh in me?" she continued, giggling uncontrollably. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking," she leaned suggestively, "then I'm shorry to disappoint you. That kiss is all you're getting. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She said no more and walked away again. Now, where was the entrance to the manor again? Following the smell of chlorine, she turned a corner and walked straight from there. She had to use the walls for support, and all spatial recognition vanished. She was in this euphoric trance, but there was still the cold and logical Elissa deep within her mind.

She didn't have a chance to reclaim this other side of herself. As she took her next step, she met water. Lovely.

((Yes, she fell into the pool. ))

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

:Costume:
www.flickr.com/photos/41533634@N02/4529597273/

Find me in the ballroom

As Monte Cristo handed Richard his card, the younger Plantagenet accepted it gratefully and studied it as Monte Cristo spoke. He chuckled a little as the count mentioned his voicemail; it seemed busy schedules were the norm for those with the most power.

Edward let out another racous laugh as he accepted Monte Cristo's card and tucked it into his jacket pocket.

"Thanks old bean," he said with a grin before once again returning his attention to his nearly empty glass.

Richard ignored Edward and instead returned his attention to Monte Cristo.

"If I had a card on me, I'd give it to you," he explained. "But it never crossed my mind that one would be needed at a venture like this. Clearly we had different ideas about what this event would entail; yours the more sensible."

(Sorry that was so short and horrible. D: Slight writer's block. I would have posted this days ago too. And OMG Sasha! XD I laughed when I read that…thanks for cheering me up!)

[yolanda7g]

Same outfit.
Find me in the pool area-ish
(Sasha, you're going to hate me for this post lol)

Faustus looked at her with one eyebrow up as she said some gibberish and walked off. Faustus sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. Geez, this was supposed to be much much easier. He followed her to the exit and watched her wander right into the pool with a splash. He cringed, feeling partially responsible for possibly ruining that beautiful dress, especially how it fitted her in all the right places...

...but maybe she looks even better in it wet...

...hmmm...

He debated running in after her. Maybe she'd drown? But he looked around and saw the couple there.

Na, they got it.

Besides, he didn't want to get his suit wet. He was supposed to meet with the comptroller later.

To the young couple, he said, "She musta passed out. Help her out and I'm going to get--" help. But he was a doctor.

Shit.

He couldn't get out of this one.

"Nevermind. She didn't pass out." Mumbling and grumbling, he grudgingly took off his fur coat, revealing a simple but classy black suit, and threw it on a bench as he advanced to the water. He reached out his hand, really not wanting to get in the water and hoping with everything she could swim.

He reached out a hand to her. "Grab my hand, girl! Dang, I can't leave you alone for a second!"

[JOHN "DOOLITTLE" MOREAU]

:Costume:
costume[/size] Mask
mask
Polynesia
www.lostandfound.ie/pics/186355_blue-and-gold-macaw_Large.jpg
Find me in the foyer./Find me around/Find me in the pool area.

John looked around no that he had been alone for so long the feeling he had that he should leave was growing stronger. "Well Maybe I should take my leave."
Polynesia glared at him. "Why can't we see more of the house. You have more than enough time to pull back into your shell like that great pink whatsits."
"Oh alright. And it's the great glass Sea Snail. I read about it in Cryptozoology monthly."
"It's nothing but a mere tabloid in fancy wrapping."
Doolittle gave up he didn't want to but he had learned from experience to never try and argue with Polynesia.

Soon his little tour of the open areas of the mansion were done he had gotten a nice hot cup of tea from the dining room. He had just come out into the pool area when he saw someone fall into the pool.

Doolittle muttered under his breath. "Polynesia watch my tea!"
He barely heard the bird reply with "Yes Doctor." As he dove into the pool. From his years on the island and at sea he had developed strong swimming skills. As he swam towards the floundering woman he called back. "Polynesia be a dear and remind me to buy a nice suit next time I'm out on my daily walk."

John turned his direction to the woman and the man who was trying to help her. "Just relax I'm here to help you everything is going to be all right." As he eased towards the woman he turned to the man. "It's ok. I'm a doctor. Well actually I'm mostly a linguist but I still have my medical license. And I've seen quite a bit of this at sea."
Then he muttered to himself. "Well except for the chlorine. The chlorine is kind of a new thing."

He reached out to try and help the woman back to "shore", and he hoped she would cooperate.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

:Costume:
Suit/Mask
Temporarily unmasked.
Find me in the ballroom.

"If I had a card on me, I'd give it to you. But it never crossed my mind that one would be needed at a venture like this. Clearly we had different ideas about what this event would entail; yours the more sensible."

Monte Cristo allowed himself a small laugh- a laugh not at Richard, but at himself. He had been playing this game, this pretending to be someone he was not, for so long that he had started taking events like this for granted, using them as opportunities to network and grow closer to others whom he might need in the future. Even now, when he bore no ill will toward anyone in the room, he had lost sight of what the evening should really have been about. It should have been a chance to relax and chat with similarly situated individuals- no more, no less.

Admittedly, Monte Cristo's method of "relaxing" was far different than what might have been considered the norm. Playing these games amused him, though they offered his mind little relief. Being at an event such as this ball, even if he had not chosen to simply "let go" the way Edward and most of the other guests had, was far preferable to being at his desk in his study, agonizing over numbers and probabilities. He had had fun this evening, which was something he could not claim often.

"More practical, perhaps, and possibly more convenient, but I would balk at calling my over-preparedness more sensible." Monte Cristo offered a genuine, wide smile. "I have been networking for so long that bringing a few cards is natural to me. I cannot leave home without any, as with my watch or keys."

He gave a brief nod to Edward, then to Richard. "It has been a pleasant evening, and I am pleased to have made your acquaintance." Monte Cristo gave another smile. "Regrettably, I must depart, for I still have work left to be done tonight. I hope you gentlemen enjoy the rest of the night."

He remained where he was for the moment; he would not leave before the other men had a chance to respond to his statements. Besides, he found himself a little reluctant to leave such good company (Richard, at least) simply to go and bury himself in work again.

[RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

:Costume:
www.flickr.com/photos/41533634@N02/4529597273/

Find me in the ballroom

Richard nodded as Monte Cristo spoke of the practicalities and convenience of bringing a few cards with him. Richard for his part never tended to carry cards about his person, assuming in the rather egotistical manner he sometimes chose to possess, that he would be recognizable as a well publicized figure of authority.

However as the count mentioned his imminent departure, Richard was surprised to find himself racking his brains to find a reason for the man to stay. He was good company and made pleasant conversation...and if he left he would be at the mercy of the increasingly intoxicated Edward and, if he chose to come back, the egotistical Faustus. Not his ideal way to spend an evening.

But then again, he didn't want to be rude to this new acquaintance of his. If the man had work to do, Richard really shouldn't detain him. He knew he hated to be away from his work for long periods of time as well.

"I know the feeling," he replied with a wry shake of his head, extending his good hand for Monte Cristo to shake, resolving not to keep him there any longer than necessary. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir, and I hope I may do so again sometime in the near future."

Edward, due to his alcohol consumption, was not nearly so cordial.

"What...you're leaving already? To go and do work?" He shook his head in a state of disbelief, rolling his eyes as he did so. "With all due respect mishter...you're mad!"

[erin]

:Costume:
Eat your heart out Harry
Find me on the front lawn.

The dancing was quite simple yet enough to make Ophelia want to die on the spot. His hand resting on her lower back, all space diminished between them and just the two of them in pure bliss. She swayed to the music gently being sure not to screw up, creating her own mantra as a reinforcement. Relax, breathe, sway...Relax, breathe, sway... She knew she needed to calm down but more importantly remember not to let Harry take her breath away compeltely.

Everything felt so serene and perfect in this moment no matter how much life tried to make people see that nothing is perfect. This night was going to permanantly stay imprinted into Ophelia's mind forever, without a single doubt in her mind. Just as Harry said she was doing well, she proved him wrong by stepping on his foot by accident. "I am so sorry! Are you okay?!" She blubbered on an apology and how much she knew it was a bad idea for them to have attempted this afterall.

Her ears then perked up as he said he had to ask her something. With her heart racing and stomach whirling in knots, she couldn't find the words she was looking for to give him a reply. Taking a deep swallow, she looked deep into his eyes.

"Yes Harry?" She asked in barely a whisper. Her tone was so low and so quiet she wasn't quite sure he had heard her respond. Ophelia warned herself not to think too much into it but she was long past that point.

[hamlet]

------------------------
Costume: Pardon my never-edited-a-photo-like-this photoshopping skills
(You get the idea 1930s-esque suit with a fedora)
Mask: Simple-mask-that-Harry-chooses-not-to-wear-but-its-on-his-person
(he might put it on once and a while though)
Find me on the front lawn
(its goin' dooown. )
-------------------------

Harry looked down and laughed as Ophelia apologized for stepping on his foot. "I think I'll live, Ophelia," he joked with a smile. If only she knew how much he loved her. Love. Such a strange word to invade his current state. But it was there, for some odd, explicable reason. He needed Ophelia.

"Don't worry, you're fine," he reassured. As they swayed to their own rhythm, just with each other, Harry took a deep breath, anxious about what he would ask her. He was engrossed in this moment with her, being so close, so intimate. Attraction didn't even come close to what he was feeling.

"Ophelia..." He whispered, and hesitated because he was afraid of the answer. "Do you believe I care about you? " His question was delicate and vulnerable. She could easily think he was, in fact, crazy. She could pull away from his embrace and wonder why he was so attached to a woman...attached so fast, so soon. And if she asked why...he wouldn't even be able to explain it to her because he didn't understand it himself. All he knew was that he wanted her...especially at this moment in his life.

[fagin]

:Costume:
www.flickr.com/photos/41533634@N02/4542540663/

Find me on the front lawn/Find me in the pool area

Fagin had been debating his method of entering the manor for quite some time now. Unfortunately for him his initial plan of sneaking in amongst a crowd of people and claiming he was part of said crowd looked like it wasn't going to work; everyone who was anyone had already turned up by now, and the only visitors arriving at this time were either fashionably late or coming by themselves. Not a large group of revellers to be seen.

It was while he was musing over this unfortunate turn of events that he hatched another scheme. Sneak in through the back. Surely easier than the front; why hadn't he thought of that before? Simply because he wasn't usually the house robbing type. That was for people like Bill Sikes who could perform such feats without detection.

This thought in mind Fagin made his way, inconspicuously as possible, towards the back of the manor. Considering the size of the place this took some time but, at last, he was there. A door stood open, leading to the ballroom. He was about to make a run for said door when he noticed two figures standing nearby.

He would have paid them no heed and moved swiftly on, but the female's voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

Éponine.

What the...what was she...how could....

He couldn't even form a coherent query inside his own head. He didn't know what was going on at all. All thoughts of stealing the Capulet's cutlery forgotten, Fagin found himself, stealthily as he could, making his way towards Éponine and the other gentleman, trying to decipher the situation without drawing attention to himself.

(ooc: I just saw a photo of myself as Fagin that a friend sent me and my muse came back! -happydance- Sarah, Mimi, I hope this is OK with you guys. ^^)

[philosopher]

Costume;

I am .. masked.
Find me in the foyer.

The inner self Holmes thus addressed was most probably abashed by this adjuration, for his hiding countenance cleared a little, as though he had received an apology from his own conscience. For the unhappy Irene was uncertain of temper, which was a trait she and Holmes together shared. If at one hour he were docile and yielding as a child, the next he would be found excited and furious. Sometimes, if good-humored, he would talk almost rationally, only allowing his fancy to play with poetical ideas concerning the world of crime. That, in the end, would bring him to the ideas of the beautiful thief, which would strike him far more silent.

Spurred by such vagaries, Holme's attention was lost to Irene. He could not help but compress his lips and feel utterly different to her opinion, having took a notable fancy to her remarkable beauty tonight. Sensibility told him to walk away now and let her alone, yet his overpowering persistant manner told him not to let her out of his sight. 'Au contraire, mon chèrie. You're arguably the most lovely woman in this little room. Le c'est vérité.'

Holmes was reclining near a dangerous corner, drawing closer to Irene and pausing. His hand reached up, and stoked the chin of his mask like he might remove it. But, all that was done was a slight pinch to position it into place. The girl's head was bent, and Holmes looked down on her, his hawk-like eyes full of trouble.

'Pardon, Mesdemoiselles Adler.' He bowed his head once, then smoothly passed through the air around her. 'I'm going for a saunter.'

And a good strong brandy.

[ÉPONINE THÉNARDIER]

Did Éponine wish she didn't have to lie? Absolutely? Did Éponine regret lying? Maybe a little. Did she think about it all that much? No, not at all. Lying was just a part of her life. She lied on a regular basis to get herself out of sticky situations. At this point, she didn't consider it a sin, only a means of survival. Her ethics teacher back in France would be absolutely appalled. The woman had been strictly Catholic, and of the Seven Deadly Sins, she'd considered lying the Deadliest. Éponine and Azelma had never taken her seriously. After all, they didn't actually have a very good role model when it came to honesty - or anything, really - at home. Her father's inn was practically run on dishonesty. That probably explained why it failed before Éponine's tenth birthday. Still, her father had learned nothing from it and that had landed him in prison. Good riddance, Éponine thought. She was sick of being his errand-girl.

Her job had been to beg money from anyone who had a little bit of loose change hanging around. Her father posed as everything from a struggling artist to a pawn-broker (he'd gotten the idea from Fagin, she thought). Éponine's job had been to go to the doors of those her father had pegged as generous. Unfortunately, they weren't always generous. Her job had been to collect the money at whatever cost. Sometimes the cost had been very, very high. Her name and place of residence wasn't the only thing Éponine was lying about. She was in the habit of telling people she was a virgin if they asked. In her mind she still considered herself to be a virgin, but technically, that wasn't true. She didn't want to believe that anything she did to get money for her father counted against her, even though deep down she knew it did. It was her deepest secret and the thing she hated about herself the most. She had trouble living with herself because of it. She'd tried to draw herself a line after that incident with the crew in Kings, where they'd tried to rough her up and go farther than she was willing to go. She didn't want to ever put herself in that situation again. It had left her with a long, ragged scar across her chest, one that was just barely concealed by her dress.

It was the realization that her scar might show that brought her back to reality. Mercutio had managed to make her drop her guard a little. His state of obliviousness had made Éponine drift off to a state of unpreparedness. Even though his grip on her hair had tightened, she did not feel alarmed. Was his intoxicated state contagious? Why would she let herself go like that? It was stupid! She watched him warily as he struggled with the effects of his drugs, feeling sorry for him. Users never seemed to remember the decline after the high. What went up must come down. His question about whether she was hiding a baguette mustache behind her mask made no sense at all, so she chose to ignore that statement. No need to persecute him further. Instead, she focused on his comment about a funny accent. "Ya zink your accent is funny? Ya must not be 'earin' mine!" A mix of Downstate and French combined her in voice to make a difficult to understand dialect that few could really understand. It must have been the drugs that made him not notice, because Éponine was sure he wasn't just being polite.

Éponine had thought about saying something else when there was a huge splash, sending her hurtling back to reality at a blinding speed. She looked around in alarm, almost reaching for her knife before realizing that it wouldn't help at all. She looked and saw a plume of lavender in the swimming pool, and it took her a moment to register that someone had fallen in. Would someone help her? It looked like there was a man there who would help, but form across the patio he seemed to say that he would go for help, as if expecting she or Mercutio to help! Mercutio was freaking high, he would be no use. As for Éponine, she couldn't swim! She hated being too near the water if she could help it. Coming near the pool had been an accident, anyway. She would have never done it on purpose. "Are ya outta your mind? I can't swim, eizzer!" Thankfully, it appeared the man in the pimp costume decided to pull her out after all.

Éponine suddenly realized that she wasn't wearing her mask. "Damn!" she exclaimed. She tried to palm her mask on her face, but there was no way it was staying on without being tied and she had no time for that. Her stomach sank lower when yet another man - the man from Fagin's pawn shop, nonetheless! he would recognize her! - came out to the patio to help remove the woman from the pool. Running on instinct, Éponine seized Mercutio's hand and darted away from the patio to a corner where they would no longer be seen. Éponine absolutely could not afford to be recognized here. The doctor with the parrot would certainly know who she was. Well, he would call her Nina Fagin, which was not the name she was using at the ball this evening. Her whole web of lies would come undone in the blink of an eye.

Éponine rounded the corner, Mercutio in tow, and tried to duck into the darkness where there might be another door. It turned out that there was something there, certainly, but it was not a door. Éponine crashed into a figure that had been hiding in the darkness. She squinted and backed into the light until she could make out the face of the person she'd crashed into. It was then that her whole evening went to pot. In surprise, she cried out a name. It was a name that Nina Jondrette should not know, but one that Éponine Thénardier definitely did. "Fagin! What in 'eaven's name are ya doing 'ere?" she said when she recognized the ratty tweed suit. Then she realized her error. She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Conneries! Oh, merde!" she cussed into her hand. This could not be happening. If there was a God, had he no mercy? Why could she not have one night without the skeletons in her metaphorical closet creeping up on her? Was there any justice in this world?!

[/blockquote]

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

:Costume:
Suit/Mask
Find me in the ballroom.

"What...you're leaving already? To go and do work? With all due respect mishter...you're mad!"

Having received a proper farewell and blessing of sorts from Richard, Monte Cristo had been just about to take his leave of the pair, before Edward made his opinion of the move very loudly known. The alcohol was clearly having an effect; that and the position of power the man held were the only things that kept Monte Cristo's sometimes problematic temper in check.

Perhaps the mayor had time to waste lallygagging and gallivanting about at balls; if so, he had the count's congratulations, and envy. More likely he had people like Richard doing his work for him. Whatever the case, the bit of respect Monte Cristo had had for him disappeared into the air.

Monte Cristo prided himself on his ability to do things himself, with the exception of tasks that had to be handled by others, such as the supervision of his staff, a job he delegated to Bertuccio. Furthermore, as a self-starting entrepreneur, he valued work far more than he did socializing and the like. To him, networking was a necessary evil. Far more times than not, his networking brought him into contact with unsavory persons- like Edward- who he privately despised but knew he would need in the future. It was such a pain, and were it not for Richard, he probably would have excused himself from the ball long before.

Therefore, for the mayor of New York City to make such a comment made Monte Cristo more than a little annoyed. To him, a position as public and exacting as that of the mayor should belong to someone with far more realistic values and goals than Edward seemed to possess. Someone who could be perfectly content with attending a ball and getting completely wasted was fit to be no more than a figurehead, if that.

A couple of seconds passed as these thoughts passed through Monte Cristo's mind, so quickly that they occurred to him almost as reminisces, barely present in his conscious and fleeting ahead of his recognition of them. He took another second to remind himself to play nice. It would not do to be on the mayor's bad side, not yet at least. Edward would receive his comeuppance one day, and Monte Cristo would do his best to ensure that it was delivered by his hand.

Monte Cristo's passive expression slowly changed into another smile. This one was decidedly less warm than his earlier smiles, and there was something cold in the gaze he set on Edward. However, his words came out in as pleasant a tone as he had spoken in all evening.

"Oh, I don't doubt that my time would be much more happily spent in the company of others, such as yourself and Richard, than tucked away in a corner of my study, reading file after file of financial documents in the dim light of a dying lamp. It is simply a necessity, not necessarily a desire, that I attend to my business. There are several potential entrepreneurs and current clients waiting for my reply, and I consider it my responsibility to give them definite answers as soon as I can, so that we all may continue with our work in light of such decisions."

The stress on the word responsibility was the closest Monte Cristo allowed himself to get to letting his true feelings on the comment be known. He was actually quite sure that Edward would not understand a word of what he had just said... even if the man had been completely sober.