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[Sunday likes to think he's gotten used to the scripts by now. Most are straightforward, and even the parts mired in metaphor or double meaning tend to reveal themselves without much effort. So, although this mission's stage blocking contains some parts that are more...opaque than others, he's not all that concerned.
It helps that schmoozing is the same whether he's the head of the Oak family or a newly minted Stellaron Hunter. Polite smiles, a little flattery, knowing what leverage to use.
The problem is the host of the party is exceedingly cagey. Sunday hasn't caught so much as a glimpse the whole night, no matter who he's endeared himself to. Technically speaking, he doesn't need to actually talk to the host, but he'd rather not resort to Plan B so soon.
He's contemplating his options from the second level of the ballroom, watching crowds and seeing how they move to maybe catch a hint as to who's most important, when his attention snags on someone walking along the edge of the dancefloor. There's something familiar about them.
Unfortunately, Sunday figures out why a moment later when their gazes meet. Even through the mask, it's unmistakable. There is, to anyone's knowledge, only one person in the universe with eyes like those. Well now. Sunday can only hope he's not recognized in turn.]
It helps that schmoozing is the same whether he's the head of the Oak family or a newly minted Stellaron Hunter. Polite smiles, a little flattery, knowing what leverage to use.
The problem is the host of the party is exceedingly cagey. Sunday hasn't caught so much as a glimpse the whole night, no matter who he's endeared himself to. Technically speaking, he doesn't need to actually talk to the host, but he'd rather not resort to Plan B so soon.
He's contemplating his options from the second level of the ballroom, watching crowds and seeing how they move to maybe catch a hint as to who's most important, when his attention snags on someone walking along the edge of the dancefloor. There's something familiar about them.
Unfortunately, Sunday figures out why a moment later when their gazes meet. Even through the mask, it's unmistakable. There is, to anyone's knowledge, only one person in the universe with eyes like those. Well now. Sunday can only hope he's not recognized in turn.]
no subject
He watches Aventurine's sleight of hand -- if not for the display of dexterity, then for the way the ambient light gleams off the edge of the coin.]
It's the host's personal office, so I would think so.
[But no guarantee either of their goals will be served by the information inside. Look at that, five minutes around a chronic gambler and he's already having to leave things up to chance.
At the mention of a dance, Sunday tips his head almost imperceptibly. It feels like the offer came a bit out of the blue...which means it likely didn't. ]
It would be terribly rude of me to refuse you...if you're that set on one?