Caroline had been asked to dance by one friend or another, and Evander had much less energy than she did to begin with; so naturally he was content to revert to his old ballroom habits, loitering at the edges and interacting with as few people as possible. Or, failing that, then at least people he knew.
Curse the masks. The masks were making this evening rather difficult in that regard. Evander had of course worn an exceedingly plain one, but elsewhere people had indulged more fervently in the masquerade theme. Not that he had been wonderful with faces to begin with, but how on earth was he supposed to know if he knew the completely-obscured-plague-doctor or the woman whose mask was writhing about her face like Medusa?
He could recognise the Minister, though, thank Merlin. Even then he had been letting the other people around him do most of the conversational labour, but this group had gotten a little smaller and now he could avoid talking much less. And it was not so much the Minister he minded, here - although he thought it a strange, bitter twist of fate that of the Darrow brothers, one had worked diligently in the Ministry for more than twenty years, and the other had ended up being invited to private dinner parties at the Minister’s house and carrying out special rescue missions on his behalf.
Not that he wanted to attend any more dinner parties, either, because even this conversation was more a minefield than anything that could come up in the Law Enforcement Offices. “Er,” Evander stuttered, wracking his brain for something to say about the theme that was not I am not fond of summer, bright colours or exotic décor, and most of all am not fond of parties. “Yes,” (- not a yes or no question, Evander -) “quite the feat to have so many in one night,” he managed, “and with such - attention to detail to them all.”
“Though I think this may be my favourite so far,” Evander offered, glancing sidelong and finding some degree of earnestness in this. He had no excuse to be, but he was rather fond of a starlit sky. (Ideally the ballroom would have been devoid of people, that he could better observe the constellations, maybe discern whether they were true to astronomy or just inaccurate decorations - but if he could not get rid of the people and he had not been in the middle of a conversation, Evander would have at least dispensed with the lit-up lapel pin and stood alone and uninterrupted in the darkness for a quiet meditative hour... which was probably not the point of parties.)
Curse the masks. The masks were making this evening rather difficult in that regard. Evander had of course worn an exceedingly plain one, but elsewhere people had indulged more fervently in the masquerade theme. Not that he had been wonderful with faces to begin with, but how on earth was he supposed to know if he knew the completely-obscured-plague-doctor or the woman whose mask was writhing about her face like Medusa?
He could recognise the Minister, though, thank Merlin. Even then he had been letting the other people around him do most of the conversational labour, but this group had gotten a little smaller and now he could avoid talking much less. And it was not so much the Minister he minded, here - although he thought it a strange, bitter twist of fate that of the Darrow brothers, one had worked diligently in the Ministry for more than twenty years, and the other had ended up being invited to private dinner parties at the Minister’s house and carrying out special rescue missions on his behalf.
Not that he wanted to attend any more dinner parties, either, because even this conversation was more a minefield than anything that could come up in the Law Enforcement Offices. “Er,” Evander stuttered, wracking his brain for something to say about the theme that was not I am not fond of summer, bright colours or exotic décor, and most of all am not fond of parties. “Yes,” (- not a yes or no question, Evander -) “quite the feat to have so many in one night,” he managed, “and with such - attention to detail to them all.”
“Though I think this may be my favourite so far,” Evander offered, glancing sidelong and finding some degree of earnestness in this. He had no excuse to be, but he was rather fond of a starlit sky. (Ideally the ballroom would have been devoid of people, that he could better observe the constellations, maybe discern whether they were true to astronomy or just inaccurate decorations - but if he could not get rid of the people and he had not been in the middle of a conversation, Evander would have at least dispensed with the lit-up lapel pin and stood alone and uninterrupted in the darkness for a quiet meditative hour... which was probably not the point of parties.)
