Soph didn’t need to wonder if she impressed, she already knew. It wasn’t cockiness, it was a formula, as definite as two plus two. Technique and whimsy. Intimate and opaque. Beauty and bite. This blueprint chartered more than half of the endowments their ballet company received this year, in some way or another. Sophia relished her salesmanship over a long sip from her drink.


This Mister Dempsey, though, did he deserve some credit after all? His remark drew a genuine laugh, both at the visual of hat-trophies, and because Sophia was certain she looked ridiculous as a ghostly willis in tophat. A well-placed compliment is a rake’s most underrated skill.



“Ah, so you’ve caught on to my scheme,” she parried back. “You’re right of course. I have no intention of returning this man’s hat. In fact, I’ve been missing one so broad and tall in my collection.” Indeed, Mister Dempsey was quite tall (Sophia shocked even herself for taking such notice). As for her target, unless someone pointed it out, it might take ten to fifteen minutes for him to notice his naked head.  About as long as I should linger here, she decided. It had nothing to do with the stupid hat.



“Now that I’ve thoroughly entertained you and divulged my secrets, I must confess that this conversation is beginning to feel one-sided," she joked. "What about you, Mister Dempsey? Any party tricks or secrets to confide?" Her eyebrow arched expectantly, her playful expression issued the challenge. Truth or dare? 

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