New Year's Eve, 1892 — Sugarplum Gala
Tycho wasn't here tonight, which was both disappointing (he wanted to see Tycho) and a relief (he did not have to worry about whether Noble would notice him talking to Tycho). Cash might have been here; it seemed like the sort of party that he would have been invited to, and the Lestranges the sort of people the host would have wanted to invite, but Ford hadn't actually seen him (or his wife) yet. That absolved him of the need to be on the lookout for someone interesting and placed this event in the realm of just another party. He'd mostly gotten over his anxiety from last month that had seen him keeping running tallies of each interaction at a social event — less because he was no longer concerned about what Noble might think or what he might assume than because he simply didn't have the energy to keep it up at the moment — so Ford had been hovering around the edge of the party since arriving, with a glass of champagne in hand and an eye out for anyone he might actually like talking to, while he killed time waiting for midnight to come and go.
So when he spotted Miss Ida Chang, also apparently hovering, it was a godsend. It wasn't as though they were friends (were they?), but they'd had no trouble filling up the conversation when they'd met at the Flint Institute's Soiree, and she had replied to his letter, so he must not have left her with the worst impression. (Enough time had passed, also, since his wondering about their flirting that the concern had entirely fallen out of his mind; he had forgotten to be concerned about whether her expectations of him were anything beyond enjoyable conversation. Perhaps it would have stuck if more used to worrying about what women thought of him generally, but the idea of courtship and romance was so far removed from his mind that it was easy to pass it over for more pressing concerns, and he had not lacked for more pressing concerns this holiday season).
"Miss Chang," he said warmly as he approached. "Have you been here long? Not gotten lost in the lollipops yet?"
So when he spotted Miss Ida Chang, also apparently hovering, it was a godsend. It wasn't as though they were friends (were they?), but they'd had no trouble filling up the conversation when they'd met at the Flint Institute's Soiree, and she had replied to his letter, so he must not have left her with the worst impression. (Enough time had passed, also, since his wondering about their flirting that the concern had entirely fallen out of his mind; he had forgotten to be concerned about whether her expectations of him were anything beyond enjoyable conversation. Perhaps it would have stuck if more used to worrying about what women thought of him generally, but the idea of courtship and romance was so far removed from his mind that it was easy to pass it over for more pressing concerns, and he had not lacked for more pressing concerns this holiday season).
"Miss Chang," he said warmly as he approached. "Have you been here long? Not gotten lost in the lollipops yet?"
Found a very appropriate Keats poem for the title <3
Set by Lady!