Oz glanced at the glass of champagne she had offered him and then to the punch he still had in hand, then shrugged and accepted it. He could polish the punch off fairly quickly, and that would be better than leaving his sister looking adrift with two glasses in hand, as though she had been abandoned midway through a conversation when she'd gone to fetch refreshments.

"The decor," he replied, not even attempting to pretend this was anything other than thin dissembling. "Too many husks of wheat and shriveled corn. They're covering for patchily applied wallpaper that's four years out of fashion, I imagine." Obviously she would not believe he had been intending to remark on the party decorations — as though this was the sort of thing he would even bother to form an opinion on — but with this blatant a lie he didn't imagine she would be inclined to press him on it, either.

"Where's your beau gotten off to?" he asked, hoping this would prove suitable enough distraction to send her spinning off after him.

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