[Sodium_noir] Hell is Other People

[Bill]

Sinclair Party
Sometime between 1am and 3am

Women's Restroom/Cloakroom - Sandra (Bastet), Christine (Inebriated Mage)
Hallway Outside Women's Restroom - Jack (Smoking), John (Undying)

[Jack]
Jack stares at the man for what seems an eternity.

“Well...” The word comes out like molasses. “I’m drunk. And yourself?”

[John]
John chuckled.  "Sober.  Though perhaps I should look to change all that.  Ever see something that you know is wrong, but you can't find the words to explain it to others?  Even if you could explain it, no one would believe you."
 
He sighed, and the cigar tip burned bright as he took in some of the flavorful Cuban smoke.  He needed a drink to go with it.

[Sandra]
"Yes, I have," she replies in Egyptian even though she knows perfectly well that the question was not directed at her. 'One just happens to be in front of me lighting up a cigar right now,' she thinks to herself as she quirks an eyebrow and a smile. Who in the world was this yummy enigmatic dish that strolled on up, and where did he learn to speak Ancient Egyptian? 

[Christine]
Christine is staring round at the high society types, a wild edge to her expression. She's looking for Mara but the spangles and unfamiliarity of the throng are making it hard to think. Her sifting isn't helped by trembling vision and hard beating heart. Her night has just been one long booze-soaked lurch into crisis. Pretty special, Christine, she thinks savagely. 

She is dimly aware of Jack chatting to the handsome, hard-faced stranger who stands over him and of  . . . Sandra? Christine hopes she recalls her glamorous rescuer's name correctly. On impulse she turns to her beautiful Samaritan and says, 

"Listen, I'm looking for Mara Ravenclaw. Do you know her? Long dark hair, black dress, diamonds?" Christine realizes it's a long shot but right now she could use all the help she can get. "I got to tell her something. Important. Ask her . . . " Christine tails off, rocked by a sudden flush of rage. Ask her what? If Mara knew that Camille Carlton wasn't  . . .  Christine remembers the woman's morgue-cold finger against her lips.  But  of course, Camille *is* dead. Dead like Mara. "There's something I need to know," Christine concludes, eyes hectic with sudden fire. 

[Sandra]
Sandra turns back to Christine and back to the moment. Yummy enigmatic dishes had to wait for a few till she knew that this woman was going to be okay. 

"Know her personally? No. However I did spot someone who fit that description a little earlier. I think she was speaking with Lady Sinclair and some other man in the Main Room at the base of the Grand Stairs. I don't know if they're still there, but we can go see."

Sandra offers a helping, steadying hand for Christine if she needs it, but looks over her shoulder at the stranger who had approached. Her curiosity was flaring so much it almost made her teeth ache. She wanted to speak to the man more, learn something about him, or at least introduce herself. But at the moment, all she could manage was... 

"If you will excuse us, it looks like we are on the hunt for a Miss Mara Ravenclaw." However, she makes it a point to look the stranger directly in the eye and hold the contact for a moment, and nod in acknowledgment. She hoped he got the message that she would like to speak to him at some point.

[John]

"Not at all." he replies in Egyptian.  It's strangley accented, different from the sound of his English.  "I'll be around this evening, I'm sure.  Otherwise . . ." He pulls a business card out of his pocket and hands it to Sandra as she goes off with Christine.  


"Come on, sweetie," she says to Christine.


       
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