23 December 1894 — Dempsey Masquerade

Don Juan had been somehow unaware that this event was being scheduled or planned until two days beforehand, by which point his costume had already been assigned. He wasn't sure who had picked it out for him; his mother or several sisters were reasonable culprits, and if Endymion hadn't moved out he might have made the list too. Obsessed with the aesthetic, the lot of them, and they wouldn't have him showing up in a improvised costume and ruining their vision of the night. Fortunately they hadn't chosen anything terrible for him. Given the theme they would have been within their rights to paint him a Commedia d'el Arte clown, or one of the foolish Mechanicals of Midsummer Night's Dream, or something similar; instead he'd ended up in an almost nondescript purple doublet and tights. The fringe on the doublet was purple brocade, and the mask he'd chosen matched it. He looked handsome but unspectacular; perhaps their intention. Don Juan was invited tonight because they could not exclude him when he lived here at the house, but everyone would prefer he faded into the background.

He didn't mind that... provided he found someone to fade into the background with.

There were a few decent candidates for it, but as soon as he saw Seraphina Bythesea arrived he discarded the mental list and set his sights on her instead. They hadn't been able to get alone together since the weekend in the country, but she hadn't stopped flirting with him, which was proof that she was still interested... or he was taking it as such, anyway. Tonight would be nothing but opportunities; a masquerade was always good cover for losing the people you arrived with, and he knew every nook and cranny of the estate. Plenty of places to hide away.

He waited until her husband was distracted, then arrived just over her shoulder. "Have you been here before, Mrs. Bythesea?" he asked, foregoing introductory pleasantries. "I can't recall."

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