Ida thought of herself as a well when it came to new information; it didn’t matter much what it was, she collected anything that fell in. So she didn’t mind Mister Greengrass explaining some of the differences of what to expect between vodka and whiskey, and more thoughtlessly squirreled away the tidbit that he liked gin himself. (That’s the kind of fact friends remember. Drat it all that she still couldn’t quite place what they were.)

“Well I hardly know what I’m asking about in the first place,” she pointed out with a small, reassuring smile, “So I can hardly have an expected answer. Though maybe I’ll look for something with vodka or gin then, for something different,” she mused. They were finally upon the area where there were refreshments and snacks— each thing brighter and more unnatural looking than the next. She couldn’t decide if that made things more or less appetizing. Ida paused to take it all in with a small furrow of thought between her brows as she deliberated where to go next.

“Oh, I haven’t seen much dance either,” she confided. Then felt compelled to offer an offhand explanation, “The tickets were a bit pricey for this time of year.” Or for ever, when you’re a young unmarried witch living off a generous scholarship. Certainly her father would spare no pocket change, unless it was to a man in the form of her dowry (which, at least then, was a bit more than pocket change). “Anyway, I’ve only heard amazing things, so I’m looking forward to the performances tonight. Maybe we get a drink here and walk over to get a good view?” The young woman entirely missed the subtle presumptuousness of her statement, that Mister Greengrass would be accompanying her after this little detour at all. It simply seemed like the type of thing he’d do.

---