Starting Over

[Ivone]

"The most absolutely worst kind, of course!"

Ivone took Tius' hand as they fell in. She resolved that here, for a moment, she would forget. Here, she would be a young, single (albeit twice widowed) woman on the arm of a charming, handsome man, illusion though it was. Later, there would be time to stare at herself in the mirror until she ceased to exist.

Ivone let go of Tius' hand and looked up at him from the corner of her eye as they began. Tius was not the only one with information about others in their circles. Tius Morrington had just as many rumors as Ivone did.

She allowed herself to get swept up in the informality of the music, smiling with others as they partnered, looking to Tius occasionally to see what he would do. Would he or wouldn't he let go as she did? Ivone bet he wouldn't. She hoped he wouldn't, because if he did, then he would suddenly be much more dangerous.

Ivone clapped her hands and made a little hop, before moving forward, and ducking under a pair of arms held like aloft like a bridge. She loved it when the dance required the dancers to stomp their feet. Ivone laughed. At one point, the ladies came together and parted ways.

Cisme was beaming, smiling up at her brother when it was their turn to partner, then part. She practically radiated approval.

"See, it's not so bad, is it?"

[Vicentius]

There was something so indescribably strange about stepping into a crowd of people, Tius thought,moving with Ivone. It always struck him, no matter how many times he went out, that everyone both was and was not aware of him. He dreaded the moment that feeling ceased to faze him, as it had so many of the powerful. Being aware of people in more than one way was the only path to success, and forgetting that would be the end of him. Still, right now the only eyes he had to worry about were Ivone's and Cisme's. For the moment, however long it lasted, the rest were just scenery, and he had an image to uphold.

The dance wound around for another spin and they separated, joining the dancers. He cursed himself inwardly for not ridding himself of his coat, but he could solve that; it would just require timing and a little style. As they moved, partnering with first one person, then the other, he was aware of eyes on him, almost a challenge, and he smiled, getting into the rhythm of the dance and gradually building up the energy. He forced himself to pretend he belonged here, remembering other dances in other places he'd had no right to be, and suddenly found himself leading his partners rather than following. Almost effortlessly, he clapped and hopped in time, aware of the changes in mood, but those eyes never left him.

It was growing warm, as he feared, and in one spin he'd loosened his coat and in another he had it off, switching partners and blessing his luck. In another switch, coming together with the next line, he had his sleeves open and pulled up, tossing his jacket out of the way. It was a silly move, but he could always find it again and if not, he had others. It was all about style, after all, style and not having the good sense to get out while the getting was good. He smiled, suddenly spinning with Cisme, and stuck his tongue out at her, spinning her with vigor.

"That's only because you can't hear me slowly dying inside," he said, twirling her, "and I'm still better than you."

So saying, he swept her along, wondering briefly if the eyes approved.

[Ivone]

Ivone approved.

Ivone’s eyes weren’t the only ones on Vincentius. His clothes, though austere, were well-cut. He shoulders were broad, though his build was slim. When he moved, it was with a dancer’s grace. His hands were long-fingered and masculine. When Tius removed the coat and rolled up his sleeves, one could see he was healthily built, neither overly muscular nor overly skinny. Several ladies contrived to be his partner and looked upon him with doe-eyes and rosy cheeks as they crossed paths. His style worked. Ivone had to admit, if only to herself, she had a type and Tius fit it.

At some point, Ivone had managed to make it to the side lines, and to get water for them. She waited, cups in hand, and watched him. She watched as he effortlessly tossed his coat to the side. She watched as he smiled and stuck out his tongue at his sister.

For once, her gaze faltered. Ivone looked to the side and sipped from one of the cups. She was enjoying the view and show a little too much for her own good. Ivone’s gaze slid back to watching Tius. She still wore a smile, though it might be more enchanted than she would care to acknowledge. When Tius finally looked her way, Ivone would lift the cups and wait. And, though Tius was not spoken for, the act of taking the cup from her might cause a little disappointment in Tius' growing fan club. The act could indicate that he was here with her, though he was not obligated to her in any way.

Ivone was amused to think he had made conquests. She suspected that was not something he expected to gain from the evening's activities.

[Vicentius]

He was prepared to admit to himself, as he danced with the latest smiling woman, that this was getting a little out of hand. Not that he didn't appreciate the attention, in fact it was rather flattering, but he didn't know these people and he wasn't sure what they were after other than a good time. Where were they ten years ago, he wondered; he could have used them then. In the here and now, he resorted to his usual fallback when uncertain, and smiled as winningly as he knew how while his mind raced. He'd lost track of Cisme somewhere in the changeover but he didn't doubt that she was having a good chuckle at his expense.

Of course, he wouldn't tell her the real reason why he continuously rebuffed the attention; it was a mire he didn't want to get into just yet. No matter how one tried to avoid it, dalliances among those of his station were heavily scrutinized and often micro managed to the point of madness. He'd managed to stay out of it so far by claiming that he had more pressing matters on his mind than marriage and keeping busy, but if word got out that he had started looking around, well, his family would get involved and wheels would start turning and it just wouldn't be, well... fun, anymore. That was the crux of it; he enjoyed being able to move on his own terms and would continue to do so until he had the clout to swing things his way.

Seeking an escape from that line of thought, he spotted Ivone standing by with two goblets and finished up with his partner as the current song wound down, claiming a need to wet his tongue. She parted reluctantly, with more than one lingering look, and he favoured her with a polite bow to show that no ill feeling was meant. Crossing to where Ivone stood, he shook his head slightly and chuckled, glancing back as the new song started.

"Once again, you drag my delicate wings into unknown territory," he said, eyes twinkling, "and vanish when I need protecting. Whatever am I to do?"

He winked and gestured to one of the goblets.

"May I?"

[Ivone]

"Vanish? Oh my, no! I was here watching over you, ready to swoop in and protect you at a moment's notice." Ivone handed over the the water.

Ivone took a sip of water and raised her brows at him over the edge of the goblet. She was smiling behind it before she took another sip. Ivone shook her head side-to-side.

"I'm afraid the next dance is mine." A trio of younger women, in their late teens, sighed and moved away.

"I'd venture a guess that your brilliant aerial moves have garnered you quite the fan-base." Ivone was very much amused.

Lowering the goblet, Ivone' lifted a forefinger to her lips, the pad of her finger barely touching her lip, and tilted her head to the side. She looked Tius over from head-to-toe and back again, brows raised. The look was an appraisal and he was not found wanting. Ivone had approved of his antics.

The left side of her mouth curved up, revealing a dimple. The look in her eyes was tempered with congeniality. She was flirting, true, but in the good-natured way they had been bantering from the start. Could it be more? Easily as there was a grain of truth and appreciation in the assessment. Ivone, though, wasn't really looking to be entangled with anyone, especially someone so much better than she deserved.

"And, I think it rightly earned." Ivone raised her goblet of water to him, in a toast, with a nod of her head. The strains of waltz began. Ivone sat down her goblet and held out her hand.

"May I have this dance, Butterfly?" Ivone smiled. When was the last time she had danced simply for the joy of it? A sense of gratuity filled her and lent a softness to the smile she had offered.

[Vicentius]

"So you swoop now, do you? I have visions of theater critics running through the streets from the shadow of your wings. Thank you," he said, accepting the goblet. "Wouldn't that be something?"

He took a sip, noting the twinkle in her eyes, but it wasn't wholly directed at him. Of course, that was the challenge, wasn't it? Did he glance around and sate his curiosity, thus handing the ball back into her court? Or did he keep looking ahead and pretend he hadn't seen anything? Letting things take their course was usually the better option, but he reminded himself that he wasn't playing games here. Furrowing his brow for a moment, he took another sip, and turned to see what had drawn her attention, smiling apologetically at the trio. He didn't doubt that they'd soon find other amusements, and he smiled at Ivone's comments, preparing to dig his grave a little deeper.

"I'll try not to ruin the illusion by speaking," he said, chuckling and glancing down at his goblet.

He bit his lip slightly, and stepped closer to her, lowering his voice.

"Now if we really wanted to give them a show," he said, a little wistfully, "I'd need one of those half skirts, some castanets and a fruit basket hat. Although I could never quite master the hip jiggling."

He struck a pose, stepping back slightly, and smiled for her amusement. What he hadn't been expecting to see was the slight heat in her gaze and the little tells. It shouldn't have, but it almost stopped him dead, and he had to ask himself why. After all, Ivone was attractive, certainly, but what kept his attention was her sharp wit and sharper tongue. Yet there was a shadow to her too, and the part of him that couldn't leave well enough alone very much wanted to know what it was. But, he knew, he wasn't a boy any more, and he did not want to be 'that man' either if he could avoid it. There were limits here, regardless of wants, and while he was determined to repay Ivone for an entertaining evening, he sensed that he was nearing an edge of sorts, and he had to be careful.

"Miss Malatrast," he said, smiling as though scandalized, "you flatterer. And before I've had a chance to praise you too. I must be losing my touch."

He took another sip of water, rather more aware of her than he should have been, and put the goblet down just as she did hers. The waltz was a merry tune, if rather more relaxed than the previous one, and he knew it well. Taking her hand, he bowed, and swept his free hand towards the dance floor.

"You are the blossom whose sweetneess entraps me," he said, eyes alight, "how could I refuse?"

[Ivone]

Ivone nodded and tried to look fierce. "Positively harpyish, I can assure you."

His pose and comments were rewarded with a laugh. The visual of him attempting to dance like that, in contrast to his careful and guarded demeanor.

Ivone smiled, amused, and why not? There he had accused her of being of flatterer. Here, he became one. They both knew that was the intent.

“I suspect, Mr. Morrington, it would be done with much kindness and a little flair.” Sharp, but not to harm, never! But, definitely an indication she observed. She noticed him.

“Probably over tea.” Ivone nodded sagely as she followed Tius to the dance floor. There, she curtsied as was proper, head bowed. The motion allowed a view of the exposed length of her neck and shoulders, fair skinned, and probably the well of her breasts, despite the modest cut. Like Tius, Ivone's style was understated and elegant.

The tune was thankfully merry. Anything else would've been too heavy to bear in the moments following awareness and would probably ruin a perfectly good evening of amiable companionship. When she rose from her curtsy, Ivone was smiling once more as she moved into Tius’ arms. The waltz was an interesting dance requiring one partner to allow the other to lead and move them, as they will. Ivone gave herself wholly to Tius for the duration of the dance, following his lead completely and explicitly, trustingly.

Proper form dictated a certain amount of space between dancers. Proper form dictated the lady gaze demurely to the side. Proper form dictated many things. Ivone did not wholly follow proper form, though she most definitely knew how. She’d been bred for it, after all.

Her left hand fell naturally to his upper arm, lightly touching it. Her other hand lay in his palm for him to grasp or hold according to proper form, as was his choice.

As the moved into the steps, Ivone looked up at Tius. Why not allow herself the pleasure of looking at him? He was an attractive enough man. He was interesting, too. Intelligence showed in his gaze. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head. His thoughts were his own, of course, unless he chose to share them, but the gaze he presented showed some curiosity. And, that was interesting, too. Why was he curious? About what?

Ivone’s smile changed for a moment, to a more self-aware one as she looked away and laughed at herself, internally. Only a small huff left her as she laughed. She had forgotten that tonight she had decided to just be young.

“I haven’t had a chance to dance like this for such a long time. Thank you, Mr. Morrington.” As they moved into the first turn, a rush ran through her at the speed of it. She nearly laughed again, this time looking up at Tius, joy sparkling in her gaze and smile wide. "I hope it is a long song."

Like this: without complications or expectations. Like this was… good.

[Vicentius]

The steps came easily to him, as they doubtless did to Ivone; they had both been bred to this...expectation, but in one way or another, they had both stepped away from it, the one by choice and the other by misfortune. Was that what it was? His mind mulled over it as he lead her to the dance floor, taking their place among the other partners. As ever, he could feel the eyes and ears of the crowd like a dull throbbing behind his eyes, but his eyes were only on Ivone, and he returned her curtsey, eyes determinedly fixed on the expanse of pale flesh between her jaw and her shoulder. He should have looked away, but having been a tall and awkward youth, certain admonishments stayed with him, so he kept his eyes on his partner.

When she rose and stepped towards him, there was that heat again, smouldering, beckoning, and he matched her smile, wondering if she saw something similar in his own eyes. He also had the strange sensation that he was being given something, and he fought hard to keep himself from tensing up as her hands moved into position. She kept her eyes on his, and he took her hand gently, his other coming to rest near her hip. She was warm to the touch, something he was almost certain had little to do with their exertions, and he was glad of the endless lessons once the music started.

He followed the steps with the same passion and energy that he had the previous dances, but her eyes called for more. It was hard to say why he was certain, but in that one, searing instant, he was so certain that it shocked him. He moved closer, not enough to intrude, but enough to shorten their steps and began to build up to something else.

She made a small sound and looked away from him, still smiling, and he had a brief moment of shock, wondering what he'd done wrong. Catching himself quickly, he spied Cisme grinning at him over her partner's shoulder. Arching an eyebrow at her, he tried to think of something other than the light hint of amber scent around Ivone and smiled, moving into the turn. Ivone spoke, pulling him from his thoughts as they spun with vigour, and he nearly laughed as the shock of it showed on her face.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Malatrast," he said, spinning them again, "I so rarely have a partner at all, let alone a vision like yourself."

It was true, though he stilted the statement to seem a little more flattering if possible, and his feet barely touched the ground as they kept pace with the music. It did feel good to simply relax, even if it was make believe for them both, and once again he simply let himself be in the moment. It was so difficult to stay distant like that, he felt, as the memories returned to dog him once again. It had been too long since he'd danced like this, not a waltz; Changers knew he could waltz in his sleep, but one person dancing with another. In many ways it had not been safe too and in others the spectre of his family loomed, but right then, with the sight of her filling his vision, just for a moment, he could forget.

"I hope it is too."

[Ivone]

Cisme couldn’t help the grin she wore. She knew her brother well and she had seen it. She knew she had. Tius had let his guard down and opened up. It wouldn’t last, she was sure of that. BUT… it had happened, was happening. Cisme bit her bottom lip, grinning, and looked at Cordyon. This wasn't the normal familial engineering of alliances. This was her good-natured, meddling attempt to get her brother out of his carefully crafted shell.

“Cordy, My ideas are always fabulous and always good ones. Never forget that.”

Cordyon chuckled. “Of course, Cisme. Never!” Cordyon pulled his arm tight and pressed Cisme against him as they turned three times in succession.

“Behave! My big brother is right there!” Cordyon quickly glanced around, only to find Tius looking nowhere but at his dance partner. Cisme chuckled.

“I think I’ll risk it!” He replied with a grin, making Cisme laugh as they spun once more, strategically further away from the big brother.

When Tius moved that fraction of a bit closer, Ivone let him without hesitation. Ivone was pliable in his grasp. They weren’t pressed together in some tawdry display. There was still space and wasn’t that the best part? The space between that became almost like its own entity for the awareness it gave of the other person?

Despite herself, heat prickled in her cheeks. Ivone’s smile brightened, if that were possible and the amusement returned. Her nosed crinkled a little.

“And you called me the flatterer!” Pish posh, the tone said, but she hadn’t resisted being pulled closer. She hadn’t stopped smiling. She was still looking up at him. They moved effortlessly and well together. Enough so, that several stood to the side to watch them dance. The pair were not alone. What enterprising young man would let the opportunity to hold his partner close, pass?

As if to thwart them, though, the song ended. Ivone’s hand slid slightly down Tius’ arm as they parted. She hadn’t wanted the dance to end. Turning toward the band, Ivone joined the others in applause.

The band leader was a skinny, older man, with a slight paunch and strands of hair carefully combed over his balding pate. He lifted a kerchief to mop away sweat and adjusted his suit collar. The musicians took sips from random cups near their feet, following the band leader’s example.

Ivone turned to Tius and gave another curtsey, as she was trained to do.

“Thank you again, Mr. Morrington.”

The band leader cleared his throat.

“We'll give you all time to catch your breath, then we’ll finish out the night with a Country Dance set and one last waltz, since you all seemed to like that one.”

The young crowd applauded happily. The country dances were easy after a long night of more energetic dances, yet still fun. Ivone joined in, glancing to Tius.

"Shall we get refreshments, too?"

[Vicentius]

The problem with appearances, at least in Tius' opinion, was that maintaining them required complete adherence at all times. They had to be seamless in all respects, so much so, in fact, that if one did them correctly, for anyone watching they were not appearances at all, but fact. People always tried to look past them to see the inner self, but that was alright, because the skilled had a whole set of inner selves to show off, depending on the occasion. Dropping the mask, then, was a complicated affair, as one never quite knew which or how many masks to drop, and whether there was anything left behind it to show. Ivone understood this, Tius was certain, and having to pretend a little less was comfortable, but he knew that in some ways, they were both still pretending.

"How can you tell your friends I showed you a wonderful time," he asked, "without a tale of how I pitched woo to sweeten the pot?"

Still, he reflected, watching the heat rise in her cheeks; some roles were easier to play than others, and they moved through the increasingly sparse dance floor like a leaf in a breeze, effortlessly drawing eyes and wagging tongues. He was aware of Cisme's constant grinning in a strange, detached way, catching flashes of her and her partner in the corner of his eye as they moved. Adjusting their route was an almost unconscious action, never quite letting the other pair out of their space nor their sight. For a moment, Tius was reminded of his father at such functions; he'd always felt duck-footed and clumsy next to his parents and he knew that they would be in their element here. He smiled a little wider and warmer at the thought of his father's expression if he could see him now; competition was bred in the bone with that one.

The music wound down with a small, well-executed flourish, and he felt Ivone's hand slide down his arm like so much silk as she stepped back, looking wistful, before turning to applaud the band with the rest. Tius clapped as required, raising an inquisitive eyebrow in Cisme's direction while he had the chance. He couldn't be sure, but he thought there was a nervous jolt in the way Corydon moved, and he was smiling when he turned back to return Ivone's curtsy.

"On my honour," he said, hand on his heart, "I could do no less and still call myself a Butterfly."

He joined the next round of applause for the band, a little disappointed at the slower dance, but aware that they offered so many opportunities for mischief if done properly. Well, a youth had to find some way to make the endless dance lessons pass quicker, didn't he? He inclined his head to Ivone, turning the motion into a deferential bow, complete with flourish.

"As my lady commands," he said; "water or wine?"

[Ivone]

Friends? Did she truly have any? Being groomed to be a polished, perfect, porcelain doll for purchase to the highest bidder to improve her family’s social standing did not lend time for friends. Besides, friends meant someone you could trust. Ivone had no one like that. She noticed Tius checked on his sister from time to time. She watched his facial expression change with his thoughts and she wondered what made him smile so warmly. His smile when he turned back to her encouraged her to smile, too.

The delivery of the phrase was perfect, coupled with the appearance of that mystery smile.

“Pitched woo, is it? My… if I had my fan, it certainly would be set aflutter.” Ivone offered Tius a smile as she reached into a hidden pocket on her skirt. A delicate kerchief was retrieved. She pressed the kerchief against the exposed skin just above her collarbone. A glance around and a change in her posture, a lift of her chin, indicated she was all too aware of the eyes and ears Tius hadn’t forgotten about. She had nearly moved to press the kerchief to his temple. But, this was no private party. Here a thoughtless kindness could become an indiscretion that would become fodder for the gossip column.

Ivone lifted the back of her other hand to her cheek.

“I think water the best option. I’m quite warm from our dance and wine would only make me warmer and fail to quench my thirst.”

Ivone moved with Tius toward the crowd of people at the bar. Several of the young ladies were off to the side, while their gentlemen companions retrieved their drinks. Some were in their cups and stumbled and jostled in the crowd.

[Vicentius]

"Of course," he said, nodding sagely, "woo must be pitched just so for optimum effect. Otherwise the best intentions can cause offense."

He nodded, aware of a certain hesitation in her movements as she caught herself and dabbed at her collarbone, the motion drawing his eye once again to that pale expanse of skin before he turned towards the bar, offering her his arm. She knew as well as he did, that they were not free here, for all the freedom of movement, but the hesitation hinted that she wanted to be. He could sympathize with that; he often wished that things could be simpler himself, but other times, it felt that all those nasty little complications were what made life worth living. Approaching the crowd of slightly rambunctious revelers, he suddenly wondered if he was overthinking that particular problem. Things would never be as simple as they wished, it was true, but there were ways around that. He was god at seeing opportunities in things. It was why he was still alive, after all.

Threading his way through those assembled was a chore, and he had to interpose himself more than once between Ivone and an inebriate or other who found balancing to be a nigh insurmountable task. It was dealing with people like that that made him glad he rarely partook. Still, they did manage to get through with surprising ease, some nudging and whispering to one another as they passed, perhaps in admiration, though in the case of the young women, he suspected it may have been envy. He smiled again, noting who was ahead of them, and winked at Ivone, stepping up behind Corydon. Clapping the younger man on the shoulder, he took some small pleasure at his jump and smiled.

"Such a vigorous outing," he said, "I don't know how you manage it."

[Ivone]

His reply about the wooing earned him a chuckle.

The thing about being in public, one had to be very aware of one’s surroundings. BUT, it would be crass to acknowledge the stares, whether they were of admiration or of envy. The correct and proper mask to wear was one of acceptance. She, they, deserved the admiration. The envy was to be ignored and expected. This was part of the game, as well.

The revelers weren’t Descendants. These particular revelers were mostly Titres with some Synevives thrown in. . In fact, the only Descendants in the room were Cisme and Tius. The revelers were younger, too. Most were in their late teens and barely 20, seeking to get out from the oppressive, structured marriage marts and debuts masquerading as society parties, to mingle with whomever they wanted, not with whomever their families deemed appropriate. Here, the class lines were blurred and ignored. Here, these younger people flirted and flaunted on the edge of what was proper.

And that was another part of the game: seeing how much one could get away with in Public without being noticed or caught. Even if she had decided to just be a twenty-four year old, that didn’t mean she shouldn’t be unaware. When she was younger, she had done as these younger people did, intentionally expressing herself openly and honestly. With Aurelio Merynir, who reveled in gossip whether good or bad, that was fine. With Tius though, Ivone took more care. Tius was a Descendant and a government official, so Ivone took care, even here, to respect his station and role. Though, because he was who he was and she was who she was, their presence would not go unnoticed even if they wanted it to be so.

Tius had the advantage over her as they moved into the crowd. Most of the men were shorter than he. All lacked the experience and presence. When Tius offered his arm, Ivone slipped hers around his. Her hand rested lightly on his forearm. Tius was careful of her, which she appreciated and found surprising. The surprise was her own recognition of her appreciation and the foolish flutter it gave her when he’d pulled her closer to him and put his hand out to gently, but firmly push the inebriate away from her. He didn’t keep her there. As soon as the moment passed, he set her loose as if nothing had happened.

Unexpectedly, Tius moved her, as if they were dancing again. She was turned and found herself facing him. His body moved slightly, jostled and pushed toward her, as he interposed himself once more. Ivone’s mouth did not drop open, but she did just look up at him and blinked more than once, wide-eyed. His arm was curled up, pressed against the side of his chest with her wrist in his hand. His other hand was on the small of her back. The whispers and envy seemed to spike briefly.

As quickly as it happened, the moment was gone, and he released her. With an easy grace, he resumed their stately position and easily navigated the rest of the way to the line before the bar. The lighting seemed to leave his face in shadow, so Ivone had no idea what his expression was for a moment. Then, the lighting shifted and she saw him wink and grin. Ivone blinked. She watched Tius’ hand fall-on Cordyon’s shoulder.

Cordyon was grinning at Cisme who had found a free stool at the bar. She was sipping some fruity looking concoction through a straw, looking especially cute and fetching as she did so. Cordyon’s elbow rested on the bar and his foot was propped up. When a hand slapped down on his shoulder it was unexpected. If the voice hadn’t been Tius’ that followed, a fight might have happened. Instead, a guilty look flashed over his face and his head ducked as he jumped.

The guilt/embarrassment passed quickly as Cordy put on his earnest and charming smile for Cisme and never broke eye-contact with her.

“It’s easy when you have the most beautiful girl in the room on your arm.”

Cisme gave a snort and looked away and back. It was flattery. She knew it. They all knew it. But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t pleased with the response. Ivone glanced away and lifted her hand to hide a small, amused smile. Apparently, someone else was pitching woo, as well, though Ivone would wager Cordyon meant his with earnestness. Focusing on Cordy and Cisme gave her something to do while her heart stopped pounding in her chest.

[Ivone]

(Joint post - Tius and Ivone)

"My thoughts exactly, Master Corydon," Tius said, with that same smile, "although that does mean one of us is mistaken." He nodded to the barkeep, generations of breeding coming to his aid with the motion, as the man complied with barely any hesitation.

Ivone cut her eyes to Cisme, then looked to Tius with brows raised. She wasn't sure that remark deserved a comment. Ivone gratefully took the glass of water, relieved to have something occupy her mouth other than words.

"Thank you." She inclined her head to Tius.

"You're most welcome," he said, sipping his own water with an innocent expression. "It's the least I could do."

He was aware of Cisme's eyes on him, but he kept his on Ivone to keep a straight face. Some statements simply could not be allowed to pass without a response, he felt, and Corydon's line had been one of them. Still, he did hope that had not put off his partner at all, and that hope surprised him. She had seemed quite taken when he'd moved to protect her, and their closeness this night had become almost a living thing. It was most curious.

Ivone regarded Tius over the rim of her glass. She didn't hide that she looked back at him. In fact, the glass was there to mask the smile that curved her lips. She also was working through her mind why his making an effort to protect her has such an effect. It shouldn't have surprised her, really.

"I'm not sure about you," here she gave a pointed look to Cordyon and Cisme, "but I imagine Tius has work to do in the morning, as do I." Ivone looked up at Tius, mask preserved.

"Should we call it an evening?"

He put a finger to his lips, not unlike she had done earlier, and turned his eyes upwards, pondering.

"Well," he said, "I suppose I can't keep showing my sister up at dancing all the time." He moved slightly to avoid the fist that was playfully swung his way and chuckled.

"And this adult thing doesn't seem like it's going to go away any time soon, does it? No, I suppose, you're right." He turned to the other two. "I'm afraid we must love you and leave you."

Ivone smiled again. She was envious of the relationship the two had. She was an only child.

"Tius, didn't you have a coat?" She asked as she turned away from the bar and toward the door.

"I do believe I did," he said, looking pensive, "but short of dropping a handful of change, I doubt I'm going to find it. At the risk of sounding forward, Miss Malatrast, you may have to keep me warm."

Thankfully, one of the band members spotted him and whistled to get his attention, tossing the coat across to him. He nodded his thanks and bowed slightly to the man, hoping that he hadn't actually struck the musician with the garment at all. That would have been an unfortunate, if amusing, turn of events. Ever the gentleman, he draped the coat around Ivone's shoulders as they moved, bracing himself for the assault of the night air.

Ivone waggled her brows at Tius, pretending to be the cad,

"Oh, I'll keep you warm, Butterfly! Though it appears you are saved from my questionable advances." One cheesy line deserved another.

Tius placed the coat around her shoulders and she was warmed instantly, though not by the coat. His hands felt warm on her shoulders. The gesture gave her pause as the last one had. Both held the hint of kindmess. She knew it was just another part of what they did, had been trained to do. So why did it surprise? Ivone looked up at Tius again with a blink.

"Thank you, again." What an unusual evening and unexpected turn of events.

"Careful, Bloom," he said, guiding her towards where Artha was tethered, "keep feeding me scraps like that and I may just follow you home."

Smiling, he shivered slightly from the change in temperature, and led the way to his horse, patting the creature's flank affectionately. Offering his other hand to her, he waited to see if she needed a boost. Artha was a solid animal, leggy and fast, and long bouts of inactivity didn't suit her, but on nights like this, he knew she'd prefer the warmth of her stable.

Ivone was in motion, lifting her hands to remove the coat and hand it back. She had fully intended to hail a cab.

"Oh, but then you will find I'm not a bloom, but a spider waiting to wrap you up tight until it's time to bite down." A hint of self-deprecation. Perhaps? Ivone turned, coat in hand, to find Tius' hand extended to her. She smiled, tinged with a little regret.

"I think it best if I take a cab tonight. Tongues will probably wag enough as it is. You escorting me home on your horse? My we'd make front page with that, I suspect." Ivone's skin prickled in the chill.

"You'd rather those tongues decry me as a cad for letting you wander the streets alone?" He raised his eyebrows, looking scandalized. "At least keep my coat until your cab arrives," he said, "that I may at least act the gentleman."

He had her there. Ivone hesitated, looking between him and the jacket. "Stay with me while we wait for the cab? One should be along, soon."

"Why do I let you talk me into these things?" Tius posed the question with his head tilted, still smiling, and rolled his eyes, moving closer to her. Not allowing her to argue, he placed the coat around her shoulders again. He wouldn't be a gentleman if he left her alone on a dark street.

Ivone's heart thumped once more. She was nervous, after all. A cab pulled into view, just as she settled against him. The relief she felt made her want to laugh. Ivone's arm lifted and she stepped to the curb,

"Taxi!" The cab inched closer, taking an eternity to arrive. Tius spotted the cab with a surge of relief and disappointment.

"Good timing."

Ivone turned to look at at Tius as the cab pulled up, passing him his coat. She didn't give him time to step forward and open the door, oh no. Now was a good time to make a speedy exit. Ivone stepped onto the rung and into to cab. The door immediately followed. Ivone leaned out the window to look at him.

"Thank you again for the dancing." Here, no masks, just a genuine expression of gratitude. "I needed it."

"Yes," he said, settling his coat about his shoulders with an odd expression, "I suppose you did. Safe home, Miss Malatrast. Safe home."

[Metarie]

Continued here: http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic ... 635#p43635