April 7th, 1888 — Hospital Fundraiser @ the Mulcibers' Garden

She had almost not come today, had almost sent her lady's maid in her stead. Her stomach had been in knots all week, and Evelyn Abercrombie could only assume it had been the spectre of the auction hanging above her that had caused it, for all that Mrs. Mulciber, both the planner and the hostess, had taken on even more of the preparation than usual. She had, however, been resolved: she would get through this afternoon, and then take it easy for the remainder of the month, focusing upon her Roses instead of her social calendar. A promise to herself. A bribe.

But as she stood observing an antique harpsichord—self-playing, of course, though a bit out of tune—up for auction, the socialite wondered if she hadn't made entirely the wrong decision. A bit of rouge had placed some colour in her cheeks (not that she would admit to it!), but still Evelyn worried that passers-by would guess that she was not at her best. Mother had always insisted that to appear to be at one's best was imperative, even if it was not so.

"The harpsichord?" she asked of the gentleman who had asked if she would be placing a ticket in the box for the item before them. "I don't believe it suits the decor of our music room, though it is quite lovely—by all means, you should put a ticket of your own in! My absence can only hope to improve your odds."

She smiled cordially as she spoke, though it was rather forced.

Then she retched all over the front of his trousers.

Open first to a male at the hospital fundraiser, and then potentially one-two observers.

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

Agrimony really wasn't quite sure why he'd decided to go to the Hospital Fundraiser. It really wasn't his type of scene considering the risk of running into his mother. But he had had some downtime as his latest antidote trial needed to simmer for an extended period of time and he was going quite stir crazy holed up in his flat in London. So, he'd decided to go and see what it was all about. After all, his cousin was a part of the committee.

Speaking of his cousin, he saw her standing in front of some musical instrument. He wasn't really sure what it was as he'd never paid much attention to the arts. He had just asked Evelyn whether she was putting in for it and offered a small smile as she suggested him putting his own ticket into it. He had been about to respond but was quickly cut off by the sound of retching and then felt warmth and wetness splatter against his trousers.

He cleared his throat then and tried to smile at her though couldn't help the grimace that spread on his features instead. "Here," he said simply and offered a handkerchief he had in his pocket, hopefully having not been soaked by the bodily fluids staining his pants, "Can I get you something else?"

  

Calliope had been hunting down the harpsichord, wondering whether she might add it to her musical collection at home. She was still a fair distance away, but the moment after she'd finally caught sight of it, something else caught her eye.

Namely, Mrs. Abercrombie regurgitating whatever she had eaten so far today up onto a young man's trousers. Both the sight and sound of it made one almost want to retch, themselves, but Calliope's jaw only dropped in total shock; by the time she had lifted a hand to cover her mouth, the action mostly only served to disguise an expression that was almost more delighted than disgusted.

(She didn't mind Mrs. Abercrombie at all, as women in her circles went. But this was too good not to be gleeful about. Oh, if the late Mrs. Pendergast, lecturing all those young Roses in social etiquette, could see her perfect daughter retching in public.) Thankfully, the Mr. Macnair over there would have to deal with the matter at hand himself; Calliope was just far away enough to avoid doing so, she thought. Besides it would be more of a kindness, perhaps, to pretend she hadn't seen anything at all, rather than alerting the whole fundraiser to the unfortunate upheaval - that said, she immediately scanned the faces around her to see if anyone else had caught the sight too.

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   Aldous Crouch

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Bless you, Agrimony Macnair, Evelyn thought, mortified and teary-eyed, as she looked gratefully at her cousin. Even among family, it was the rare individual who could handle something so discussing with such grace and compassion and though the socialite wished very much that she could just disappear (she could, she supposed, have apparated away), the young man was, at present, her favourite person.

“T-thank you,” she murmured awkwardly, taking the proffered handkerchief to tidy up her mouth-region. Her gaze, though, was decidedly upon his soiled trousers. “I’m fine.”

His attire was another matter altogether.

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

Perhaps it was years of working with potions but Agrimony could hardly smell anything unless it was directly under his nose. It was perhaps what made it easy for him not to spill his own stomach's contents as a form of retaliation to the smell. The worst part was the feel of it soaking through his trousers. But now that he was certain she was okay, he moved to pull his wand from his pocket. Thankfully it was on the side where there wasn't as much of the bodily fluids splattered.

He quietly mumbled a spell to clean the mess away though it wasn't able to actually dry his pants in a sufficient manner to where he wouldn't feel it. He supposed that would be of little consequence though. At least he wouldn't have to walk around with vomit on his trousers.

"Would you care for a refreshment?" he asked then, forcing a smile into place to try and save whatever graces he possibly could for her.

  

At the mention of consuming anything else, Evelyn performed an encore.

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The following 1 user Likes Evelyn Abercrombie's post:1 user Likes Evelyn Abercrombie's post
   Bella Scrimgeour

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

Well. That must have been a new record. A gentleman getting puked on not once, but twice, at the same event. By the same woman. It was getting increasingly hard to remain calm and collected on the manner. A flick of his wand saw the mess vanished once again as he eyed his cousin a bit warily and took a step back to hopefully get out of retching range should she decide to go for three.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" he questioned quietly, wondering if he should perhaps take her elsewhere.

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After she had exchanged an awkward look with another attendee, she had moved on, her attention only half on Mrs. Abercrombie and Mr. Macnair as she tried to survey the harpsichord with a straight face.

She wasn't failing terribly at it, at least until she heard the sound of yet more retching. "Heavens!" Calliope exclaimed aloud (too loud), and she had already turned right towards the malade before she could stop herself. Her gasp was half at herself, really, for forgetting herself and her whole plan to stay away and titter from a distance. Now, however, she was hovering far too near, and quite unable to walk away: instead, she remained where she was, politely awaiting Mrs. Abercrombie's answer to Macnair's question, just in case there was something she could (theoretically) do to assist.

Hopefully her face looked contorted in concern and not just abject disgust.

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Heaven help her, someone else had noticed. She heard the exclamation, but could not place the voice even if she had been able to raise her gaze above her cousin’s soiled shoes. Evelyn was mortified, and it was only the pallor of post-vomit that stopped her cheeks from flushing scarlet with embarrassment.

“I’m fine,” the witch echoed again with less conviction than before. “No healer necessary, though we would have no trouble finding one here.” The joke was not delivered as well as she would have liked, and Evelyn’s laugh sounded quite forced.

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

At least she was trying to make light of the situation. That was a bonus in the manner and Agrimony couldn't help the light tug of his lips into a smile. Humor was perhaps the best option right then as surely more attendees had noticed the incident. "Perhaps you'd like to return home then," he asked, still more than willing to assist her in any way possible, "You've made your appearance. Surely, there's no reason for you to remain if you're unwell." Perhaps that would do the trick for her.

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Ugh, could Agrimony really be so dense? Though, Evelyn supposed, she could not blame him—he was, after all, Aunt Mariana’s son. He could be excused for not realizing that to show weakness in society was to risk being eaten alive.

“Just a bit of a sit, I think, and I shall be right as rain,” Evey allowed at last.

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

Agrimony nodded and then did what any gentleman would do. He offered her his arm to help escort her to a table where she could sit. "Any preference as to where?" he asked as he waited to see if she'd even take his arm to be led to a chair.

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She hesitated a moment before—“Inside, I think.”

Though she was loathe to give people reason to talk by disappearing altogether, she was also loathe to give a repeat performance to any sort of audience. What a mortifying day this was proving to be!

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

Agrimony nodded and patted her hand gently on his arm before he easily guided her toward the house to take her inside. He'd get her in, make sure she didn't need anything, and then get the hell out. Clearly social events were not a thing for him.

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They found some parlour or another, and Evelyn sat down gratefully upon a chaise, not comfortable enough to fully recline in someone else’s home. What on earth had gotten into her? It was not like her to…expel her stomach contents in such a fashion, even when ill. Perhaps one of Mrs. Mulciber’s hors d'oeuvres had gone off?

“I really am sorry, Agrimony,” she voiced timidly.

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— so you wanna be a rose? —

— mj is kind of amazing. —

Seeing her settled, Agrimony planned to make a hasty retreat. Only, Evelyn was apologizing again. He waved it off easily enough and offered a sincere smile. "There's nothing to it," he answered, "After all, what are cousins for?" Not exactly for being vomited on but they could at least offer assistance where others likely wouldn't.

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