The Samuel Adder Campaign presents The Red & Black Gala.

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Date: Friday, 22 September 2017 Time: 7:00pm RST Location: RhyDin Imperial Hotel

The black tie affair is reportedly being talked about as the event of the 2017 election season. Invites have gone out to everyone who is anyone in RhyDin, and the gala is being hosted by The Empress herself!

((More details forthcoming. Get those polyvore sets ready! Event will take place on the boards only.))

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The Empress was in her element at the gala, playing hostess with an effortless grace and charm. There were cheek kisses to exchange, dances to be stolen, and drinks to share. She even spent some time at the gambling tables, laughing sweetly when she was accused of being too lucky to bet against.

All night long, she directed conversations smoothly towards the man of the hour, Samuel Adder. The faerie made many introductions and convincing arguments regarding why he was the real future of RhyDin.

He saw the true potential of their city and her people.

He wouldn't be satisfied with the same ol' same ol'.

He could help them get past the tumult of the last few years.

He would deliver them to a brighter, more prosperous future.

Former Governor Sheridan Driscol was in attendance! He spent quite a bit of time schmoozing with anyone and everyone who would tolerate his company. An exorbitant amount of his money was wasted on gambling, a vice he could never break free of no matter how many years of his life had passed. Of course he also drank, in excess. By the end of the evening he had to be escorted off the premises and dumped into a cab, because he had passed out drunk in a corner, the party had ended, and the clean up crews wanted to do their work.

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The scoop-backed dress in blood red exposed the fine knots of Eden's spine. Nicks and imperfections—scars attributed to motocross racing—stood proudly under the wing of her shoulder blade and low on her back. She was not flawless, although the elegant dress created a temporary, convincing illusion.

She arrived on the arm of her debonair husband; he wore black, sleek and stylish, in keeping with the gala's theme.

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Before the arriving guests headed inside the hotel, they'd be greeted by a few friendly young women in red hooded cloaks, handing out leather-bound booklets entitled Tenets of the True Rulers as well as a letter attached to the front.

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By attending this gala tonight, you honour Samuel Adder.

By attending this gala tonight, you are contributing to the corruption of this realm, either directly by supporting their cause, or indirectly, by standing idly by as the world decays and rots around you.

Mr. Adder serves as a tool for the elite — a wolf in sheep's clothing whose only aim is the enrichment of himself and his cohorts. His entire platform as a public servant amounts to nothing more than the continual bilking and suffering of the working class, for the benefit and amusement for those ruling above.

We need this hypocrisy and corruption to end. No longer can we allow for our leaders to cackle with cocktails in hand, standing tall with their designer shoes drenched in the blood of the oppressed.

We need to root out the evil.

We need to embrace the good.

We need TRUE RULERS.

Ransom arrived at the gala with his wife, Eden, in the possessive curl of his arm. Together, they fit the theme of the evening to perfection: where she was a carnal and tactile vision in deep, arterial red, he was her after-image, a sleek and sensuous shadow sketched out in lines of varied black.

Whether a turn or three on the dancefloor, a test of luck at the gambling tables, or a show of charm in conversation with other business owners and would-be politicians, they glided through it all with a cocktail in hand and a glimmer in their eyes. Throughout the night, Ransom traced the butter-soft leather of his gloved hand along the lattice-work of scars decorating Eden's skin and caressed the delicate knobs of her spine beneath the silken, sable cascade of her hair.

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The Lagos Prince arrived with his companion exactly on time, delivered by personal limousine and ushered out by a driver who seemed unamused at the ostentatious demonstration of wealth. Sinon had words with him, quietly, as he helped Millicent Grim out of the back seat; they spoke in terse Latin, and then the driver and limousine drove off. "He does not enjoy this city," Sinon told Millicent with a conspiratory whisper. "Too many things I will not let him eat." Sinon clearly found this funny, though he didn't mean it as a joke. The black eyed immortal walked Millicent into the Gala without another remark, though he chuckled at the woman outside without pausing to listen to her.

Inside he was all sharp smiles and amused looks, making polite conversations with anyone he did not know , and impolite conversations with anyone he did . Two or three times a stranger complimented him on his choice of suit, remarking that the fabric of his red jacket dazzled when it caught the light just perfectly, or that pinstripes suited him; Sinon smiled at the compliments, but always brought Millicent to their attention . Occasionally he remarked to Millicent about someone he saw or something that caught his attention , but for much of the night he simply enjoyed the presence of the woman on his arm, the girl he kept in sway. From the way others watched her, to the way he could hold her captive with nothing but a quiet, secret whisper; the crowd might be here for Samuel Adder, but Sinon was here for Millicent Grim. To show her to others, to see her before others, to have, and be had. There was a level of perpetual contact between the two. Even on the rare moment she was not on his arm, he kept a hand on her lower back or shoulder, as if he couldn't bare the alternative.

That they left early would have been at no surprise to anyone.

Ebon arrived at the Gala with Phen, both of them looking refined but not ostentatious in their attire. She wore a sapphire-blue gown with a pendant necklace and matching earrings, both hand-crafted by Phen herself. Ebon was decked out in a black tuxedo with white shirt and a bow tie that matched his wife's gown.

They mingled among the attendees, trading smiles and pleasantries with everyone. At one point in the evening, stepping out for a bit of fresh night air, Ebon even took the opportunity to speak with the woman in red, with her intriguing pamphlets.

It was a fine evening.

The Corpse Detective came to the Gala by foot. Dressed in a Simple Tuxedo he actually did not seem at all out of place.

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He would meander through the crowded, smiling and shaking hands. He would of course, seek out and greet the man of the hour as well.

Of particular interest to him were the women in red, he would chat with them, collect one of their booklets asking a few pointed questions about the Tenets of the True Rulers.

He also took note of Mallory, the change was surprising to him. He would greet her as he greeted everyone else at the party, only he would carefully palm a business card passing it to Mallory via handshake. He didn't want to do anything too overt, but this recent change he had seen in both Mallory and Eri seemed almost too sudden to be natural. Eri was a good friend of his and he hoped he could help in some way.

He would spend his evening drinking and people watching, and being politely social.

Mallory's words to the private eye in reply to his greeting seemed no different from anyone else's, and the business card he'd pressed into her palm disappeared up her sleeve with a cartomancer's grace.

But before he left, and once he looked like he was thinking about leaving, Mallory approached him again, fresh from a reading at a lounge table whose patrons still wore bemused grins and whispered to each other at the dark omens she'd given them.

"Detective Cross," she said, gracing him with the same eerily steady smile she'd given everyone else that evening. "My employer has an eye for many great talents, as a man of great talents himself; mine is the Sight. Would you care for a reading?" With one hand, she gestured to a recently emptied cocktail table. In her other hand, palm-up, she held a fine old deck of playing cards, Renaissance-era or deliberately painted in a similar style.

The detective raised an eyebrow at Mallory's approach, then grinned at what she had to say. "A reading" Why not' I wonder what the cards will have to say about a dead man." He moved over to the cocktail table and pulled out a chair for Mallory. Once she was seated, he settled himself into the chair across from her.

He examined her face for a moment, then looked down at her hands, watching intently.

"I can't say I've ever participated in one of these before."

Mallory's smiles remained nothing but polite, carefully schooling her reactions to his words, as she did with everything else right now.

"The Pillars of Fate," she said, once she was fully settled. She shuffled the cards as she explained. "First, we'll see how many pillars your fate stands upon. Then, we will divine the nature of each pillar — I will begin to draw cards into a pile, then you tell me to stop when you feel that aspect of your future has been realized."

She shut her eyes, one hand curling faintly around the thorny rose that appeared when summoned, and as she squeezed, she sifted through the cards one last time.

Her eyes slid open. Her smile widened, though only fractionally. "Please....take the card off the top, and show it to me."

He watched her carefully, studying her hands, her face, and her body language. He drew the top card and showed it to her. The eight of spades, with only one number in the top right corner, and every spade pointed in the same direction. He smirked strangely, not quite sure what to make of this.

Mallory dipped her head: "Your fate stands upon eight legs, like a spider. Fitting, in a way."

He watched her intently as she began the pillars, drawing one card after another, piling them up. He looked up a moment into her eyes to find her staring right back at him. "Right there. Stop." She turned the cards over, revealing a six of hearts, a two of clubs, and a queen of diamonds, none of them inverted.

She began a second pile, glancing up as soon as the first card was placed. "Stop." The ace of spades.

"Stop." The nine of hearts, inverted.

"Stop." The two of hearts and the five of diamonds, both inverted.

He looked about the room quietly to see if they'd caught the attention of any of the other party goers, but after a few initial glances, they seemed to have moved on. Her earlier readings had all been far more ominous, comically so, and performed with far more flair. He looked back at her, and she resumed placing cards.

"Stop." The kings of clubs and spades, both inverted.

"Stop." A pair of nines, diamonds and hearts.

"Stop." A ten of clubs and a jack of spades.

"Stop." A seven of spades and a queen of hearts.

Having presented the set, she spread her hands and smiled magnanimously: "Behold, your fate. When you look down from the edge into the darkness....mind your feet."

She gave him the space of a few moments, to take in his fortune (and the values of the cards) before she began shuffling them back into the deck.

He frowned at all the cards on the table before him, trying to decipher their meaning. He was definitely feeling out of his element' until something clicked. Tartarus. He grinned at her. "Very interesting, Mallory. I was afraid all my dating prospects ended with my demise. When we finally meet, I know just the place to take her."

Mallory's smile widened a fraction as she swept the cards back into the deck, but her reactions revealed nothing. She could only hope he'd understood. "Thank you so much for letting me read your fortune. May it bring you better luck in the days to come."

((Adapted from play with Nick Cross! Thanks, Nick!))

"Seriously Tim, I don't think this is a good idea," Penny tried to interject when her ward and landlord brought up The Red & Black Gala.

"It's for the Elite. The Important. The Who's Who of the whole city will be there. Which means that I, of course, should be there."

"You aren't going to even know anyone who's there," Penny reminded him.

"Which is the best time to make new friends, when you don't know anyone." Tim declared.

"You really don't understand the whole purpose of witness protection program and secret identity, do you? A ****ing faerie is hosting the event!"

"You just said that no one there is even going to know me. Old, secret or otherwise. Besides, what can go wrong when I will have my lovely body guard standing watch nearby?"

Penny pinched the bridge of her nose as her brow furrowed and eyes closed. This would be the second faerie hosted event in as many days that wormed its way onto her work (never social) calendar. There was a rustle of fabric as the wizard tried counting backwards from ten to zero as she breathed.

When she opened them, she could see Tim holding up a black dress on a hanger in one hand, and a pair of high heels. ?"What is that?" she asked.

"It's your dress. Don't you like the stars" It reminded me of space. There was a shortage of red and black dresses, since everyone is going to the Gala. Go get dressed, I don't want to be late and I still need to finish putting on my tux." Shooing Penny out the door and towards the general direction of her tower. "And no weapons. Or well, obvious ones I guess. Just put some magic stuff in a purse or something if it'll make you feel better. I'm not going all the way out there only to have to be turned away. I need to look respectable Penny."

Penny gave him a blank look, followed by a slow blink. When she spoke, her tone was dry, "So what you're saying is: No axe."

"No axe." Tim repeated, agreeing vigorously.

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When they arrived outside of the hotel, Tim gave a look to the women in the red cloaks and murmured aside to Penny, "Friends of yours?"

He couldn't see the flat look of her eyes behind a pair of black round spectacles she's slipped on earlier though. Penny accepted a booklet, but only read the letter penned to the front as they headed inside to ascend to the rooftop party. The booklet itself would likely be read after the evening was over.

Penny did well to keep to herself, loitering a few paces away from Tim as he mingled as he wanted and she watched him gorge himself on drinks and the occasional chocolate, leaving him to indulge in the party's offerings enough for them both. To give a better illusion that she was just another party guest, she did carry a martini glass, but it was too easy to spill the drink contents and never taste it. Drinking on the job wasn't an option of course.

Overall, she was utterly stoic, perhaps even playing a part of a mute, though that part would be ruined should any of the few she knew by name happened by and approached her. For those she did know, a small smile would be given, and maybe a comment on how nice they looked and she hoped to see them at another time. For those she did not know, Penny did not hesitate to simply stare blankly and then walk away from them. In another life, she probably should have been a looming but silent shadow.

At one point in the evening when Tim had realized the importance of pacing himself through his drinks and catching his breath after a few too many spins about the dance floor with an affluent looking Elvish woman, he sided up beside Penny. "Woo, see" Nothing to worry about. I think I might try to get her number. She looked impressed when I told her I had my own castle."

Rolling her eyes, Penny reached out to take the glass Tim had just taken from a passing tray and was turning to request for a bottle of water, but became silent when the man of the evening rose to issue a toast. As he spoke, Penny tipped her head slightly, just enough to allow the glasses she wore to slip far enough down the slope of her nose to see easily over their rims. She considered her options. Wizard's Sight was a tricky thing in Rhydin, where everywhere almost everyone was something that wasn't typical. Anything looked upon via the Sight would be forever etched in stone in her memories, so she had to really really really think something was important to see when she used it. Her stomach tightened, a flash of nervousness swept over her, but she managed to shove it back down to a dark recess of her mind. She had to know. She had to open up her Sight. It took only a second of focus and issued will to open it. And it took less than that for Penny to reach out beside her to Tim and dig her nails into the sleeve of his tux in a mildly awkward way to hold on to him. Curling dark horns rose from Samuel's temples, teeth sharp enough to shred through flesh and bone, cloven hooves and a long whip-like tail ticked back and forth. Then the eyes, long horizontal pupils surrounded by a pulsating green fire, all together made the bottom of her stomach drop out.

Archdevil"!

NOPE. NOPE. NOPE.

GET OUT OF THERE PENINNAH.

Slamming shut her eyes and the Sight, just in time for the crowd to cheer and tip their drinks up for the end of the toast, Penny turned back to Tim. He already looked a little concerned, or maybe confused, seeing as how Penny didn't normally hold on to him. "We're leaving now. Put down your drink and escort me to the elevator without question or a scene." Words clipped and low for his ears only.

"But I haven't—," Tim started.

Penny didn't have to repeat herself, but her hand on his arm did turn and twist his wrist into an uncomfortable angle until he got his feet moving. Luckily, he hadn't made a startled gasp and their exit would pull little to no attention their way.

It didn't look like Tim was going to get that Elf's number.

Unlike others with agendas in mind, Zan saw the announced gala as nothing more than the opportunity for a fun night out with his date Verity. He'd wear his finest (and only) tux and try to blend in as an appropriate adult.

He'd stop and chat with the creepy Little Red Riding Hoods out front, especially when he saw them peddling some holy book. He urged them to talk to Verity, because she had been trying to corrupt him with premarital sex.

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Inside, he'd make conversation with anyone who got in his way and have some teasing comments for folks like Nick and Jewell the hostess with the mostest since she looked a little familiar, before trying to convince Verity to sneak off into some darkened room for some inappropriate adult antics.

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Canaan stood outside of Rhydin's luxurious Imperial Hotel and smoked an entire cigarette while watching the red cloaked females pass out their leather bound treatises. When finished, he paused long enough on the stairs to accept one of the tracts and scan its cover letter, expressionless right up until he reached the end.

"Root out the evil," he read aloud. Cane shared with the girl an amused smile as the booklet was pressed back into her waiting hands.

At the party he took up residence at the bar, alone, notably lacking any sort of date. This, however, did not appear to put a damper on his mood. Well versed in the art of socialization, the Cajun made conversation with all those around him that were receptive, discussing everything from the weather to the ineluctable topic of politics. He tried each specialty drink offered, divested the servers of their confections every time one came within arm's reach, shook hands with other business owners, and laughingly declined the invitations to join their gambling tables, citing a long history of terrible luck.

His various interactions seemed to carry Cane to every corner of the party and eventually brought him into the orbit of the evening's delectable hostess: Jewell Ravenlock. For a short time they pretended the other guests did not exist. Indulging themselves in one another most selfishly, they whirled expertly around the dance floor for two whole songs, hands roaming, stealing glances and kisses alike.

It was with no small amount of reluctance that he shifted his attention from the beautiful Empress to the man of the hour when he teasingly drew attention to their shameless flaunting of sexual tension. Jewell introduced Cane to Samuel Adder, who appeared to be utterly delighted to make his acquaintance. After the two exchanged pleasantries, Mr. Adder beckoned to the smartly dressed Mallory St. Martin.

"A rose for the man, Mallory."

"Good evening, Mr. Devillier," Mallory said. "I'm so happy you decided to join us."

Samuel waited for the young woman to produce the flower before continuing. "I'm so sorry to have taken her from you so abruptly....I'm sure she had an unforgettable time at Panacea, but given her options....I felt confident she'd make the right choice."

Cane's unwavering smile only grew. He looked from Adder to the witch. "I've always told her that if she was patient, great things would come. And now they have." When Mallory offered up the rose, he took it with a dip of his head in thanks, but gestured with his free hand to the deep purple belladonna boutonniere pinned to the sleek, black lapel of his suit coat. "I'm not sure it will match."

Mallory managed a quarter-smile for her former boss, no more expressive than she'd been throughout the entire evening.

"It's perfect for you, though." Cane gave the rose to Jewell and bent to brush a kiss across her cheek. "Now if you'll all excuse me, I've another gift to deliver." He reached into his coat and came back with a sprig of dead, graying snapdragons. "Good luck, Mal. Mister Adder."

The Cajun took his offering to a woman who was seated at the very fringe of the party. She was a perfect, fearsome vision, beautiful in Her utterly stoic plainness. "Innom",? he called Her. Cane crossed the threshold of Her radiant power, the thick and cloying presence of decay that seemed to keep everyone else away, and without ever touching Her, left the withered flower within reach on a nearby table. After honoring her thusly, he was gone.

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In keeping with the chromatic theme of the evening, Goshen arrived in perfect complement to the arresting beauty on his arm. He wore a handsome, dark Italian suit made of luxe wool that featured a notch-lapel jacket with a two button closure left open over crisp white dress shirt and fitted slacks, an ensemble that accentuated every sinuous line and curve of his evocative, youthful build. Slim, sharp ambrosial features, bright eyes and copper hair, his was magnetic beauty that recalled the haughty superiority of prince like regality.

Together they were the blistering dawn and the gloaming; advent and conclusion. One could not be without the other, a fact made evident by the proprietorial nature of their interactions throughout the evening: the firm hold Goshen frequently made on the younger boy's trim hip as they made polite conversation with others, the way he commanded the boy's attention with nothing more than a flash of penetrating eyes or the curve of a silken smile, and how he murmured to him in warm, sotto voce that demanded close proximity. Goshen openly luxuriated in the certainty that Ed remained in all things attractively pliant and obedient to his fingers.

It was a night of shared wide-eyed wonder and adoring gazes, though most of their time on the dance floor was spent choking back laughter for their inability to do more than sway side to side in a tight shape that only vaguely resembled a circle. And when the party drew to a reluctant close in the early hours of the morning, Goshen guided his drowsy date through the line for the elevators, keeping him mostly alert by littering his face and neck with soft kisses and whispered words that dissolved into indistinct sound should anyone near to them appear to be eavesdropping.

"Hey, Di."

"Yes, sir?"

"Dis Red'n'Black Gala. We got an invite fer dat?"

"Checking...yes, sir. You have received an invitation."

"Sweet. We got anyt'in' appropriate to wear?"

"I believe you do, sir."

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During the course of the Gala, a fashionably late arrival appeared in the form of a sleek town car in glossy black. It had taken Ravyn a little cajoling (and a glimpse at what she was wearing for the evening) but she'd managed to convince Cranston that it was worth showing up and seeing what this Adder person had to say. Power deserved watching, after all.

The younger women in robes barely warranted a glance. Peons. It wasn't until they'd entered, until they'd found the true movers and shakers, that the interest started to bloom. Drinks. Food. Window dressing, minor necessities. A few familiar faces, here and there...but not many. Then again, they weren't well known in Rhy'din proper, choosing to keep to themselves. Over a year since they'd married, and it seems the honeymoon was hardly over.

Drinks in hand, they visited the tables, losing and winning in equal measure, before making their way over to the man of the hour. A congenial greeting, pressing the flesh. A faint narrowing of the eyes to the press of lips to knuckles. Cordial conversation about idle subjects.

After the tables had lost their draw, and the crowds their luster - or rather, when the desire for other, more private entertainments grew stronger than the amusements offered at the gala, the pair reclaimed their limo, and disappeared into the night.

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Arya wasn't one for fancy things but curiosity got the best of her. There was nobody in her company but she was dressed to the nines. Bright smiles and cheerful greets were given as she made her way through the crowd, taking in the sights and stopping to have a few words with those she knew.

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Lucy arrived at the Red & Black Gala accompanied by Isaac Wheeler. Lucy paused at the hooded red women for mere seconds before moving around them and into the affair. She did, however, glance over her shoulder once more before stepping inside.

Despite the encouragement to mix and mingle, Lucy spent much of the event sitting and talking with Isaac enjoying a few glasses of champagne. She had little interest in gambling this evening, but she offered to play along with Isaac should he be interested. To the careful observer, her body language did not suggest intimacy, rather it appeared more like a first date.

Eventually she mingled, making an effort to seek out Jewell to thank her for the invitation. She did not seek out Samuel Adder, the candidate, but she did not resist introduction if it was made. She also made sure to say hello to other faces she recognize who wandered near. And of course she introduced Isaac to everyone she spoke with.

After no more than two hours had passed, she suggested to Isaac that they make their departure to find a bite to eat somewhere.

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There is something awoken in Shae's golden eyes as she arrives with her dashing escort, something alert and predatory. That doesn't stop a warm smile from softening the harsher light when she encounters familiar faces, but it does grant a more primal aspect to all that crimson. Questions about the evening's host are rare, though where voiced they are carefully probing, filling hands with refreshed drinks to coax loosened tongues to volunteer more than she explicitly asks to know about the candidate. A partially full drink can be seen in her grasp when she's not taking a turn on the dance floor, though its volume never decreases far enough to invite a refill on her behalf. The gambling tables present a lure of entertainment when she must surrender her favored dance partner to the arms of another. Oddly, luck seems to shift in the wake of her passing smirk.

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Isaac gave a glance up at the hotel as he walked alongside Lucy Mitford, the slow rolling thunderstorm gray of his eyes taking in the sight of the red cloaked women." A narrowing of that steel gray gaze as a protective hand instinctively fell to small of Lucy's back when she moved around them and looked back over her shoulder." Politeness dictated that certain words remained unspoken when he accept the offered leather booklet; personal disinterest in politics and the machinations of those drawn to such roles ensuring he set it aside a few moments later.

As the knife-thrower took in his surroundings he got the feeling he'd exchanged one carnvial for another and while Lucy's gracious introductions were met with a reserved and quiet gentility, it was the Socialite alone who got that easy flowing dogwood drawl and expressive, daresay, charming smile."

Her offer of company at the gambling table was countered with an invitation to the dance floor where he'd draw on that cotillion and debutante experience his parents had foisted upon him as a younger man should she take him up on the offer. Admittedly that had been years ago so he might prove a bit rough around the edges and in dire need of some of the Socialite's polish.

Two hours proved to be about his upper limit for such crowded affairs and so it should come as no surprise that he readily agreed to a bite to eat upon her first suggestion.

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Dressed in a sumptuous midnight black, Jezebel chose accessories of the richest sanguine hue to match the theme, but affixed them as far away from fire red hair as possible to avoid clashing. A cluster of garnets at her wrist, the tear drop of subtle rubies all but obscured in glossy strands. A simple clutch bag, elegant high heeled sandals. Beyond this subtle brush stroke of color, she wore a smile, her flickering amber eyes alight with catlike interest.

The woman moved easily among those assembled. She had kind words for friends and strangers alike, complimenting this dress, that tie, as fluid, unhurried grace carried her from one space to the next. For a time she paused to watch a particularly striking couple, a knowing grin painting bold red lips as she concluded, Ah, this must be Millicent, but Jezebel did not interrupt or introduce herself.

Thanking their hostess for the lovely soiree, she was introduced to the man of honor, and his platinum blonde seer besides. Jezebel would accept a rose only on the condition that it did not come with a fortune — she would not see the beautiful girl bleed for her. If pressed, the redhead would merely roll one sinuous shoulder with a nonchalant what can I say, I like a little mystery.

She could be found chatting with various distinguished business owners from time to time, watching each with interest in her eyes and a smile that was not quite flirtatious. In the end it was hard to say when or with whom she'd left, only that she was gone.

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He should not have even been allowed in. When stopped by the front door and asked for his invitation he repeated several times, "что?"

Every time he was asked, do you know Samuel Adder" His response was always, "нет."

They were truly baffled. He looked the part, well dressed and well groomed but he didn't speak a lick of English. He smoked the most expensive brand that they'd never seen and he held up the line long enough until they eventually just let him in with a detail.

He hated politicians, all of them. So much talk, so many hollow promises it made him sick and revolted just to step inside. Still, everyone was here and he'd help himself to a Liquid Cocaine and didn't take long to find where he'd make his mark on the night.

The Gambling tables had taken him in and refused to let him go. Акула they called him back at Baikonur, he made his presence known at the Poker table to much anguish of his fellow players. Throughout the night it was very likely there were many hands thrown, profanities shouted and quite a few close calls between his face and their fists. A natural at stealing chips and glances, he'd explain the game to any who came his way, give his number to any who'd ask and might just end up leaving and blowing those chips on any who'd wait long enough to see him clean it up.

It was likely if he came face to face with Samuel Adder that he'd want to kill him, as he would any politician. So he did his best to keep low and get dealt his winning hands.

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After receiving invitation to the event of this year's election, he found it to be a prime opportunity on multiple levels.

He'd driven him and his date to the Gala himself, this time in his cherry red 2016 Aston Martin Vanquish that seemed all too fitting for the Red & Black themed party. Dressed to kill, arm in arm with a stunning date, whom he'd likely spent far too much money on both of their wardrobes and necessary accessories, he'd escorted Orchid to the front door where he'd stated himself and his Plus One present before they were allowed inside.

The party itself was decorated superbly, speculated and admired by himself and his date. Of course, the first stop was to the bar - with plenty of dazzling smiles shot from himself, handshakes to strangers and those he knew, a few words spared of pleasant talk before he had to pull the rambling hot mess of a woman away, else they'd never get their drinks! He may have indulged in more than one Liquid Cocaines, and splurged on anything she wanted herself - be it drinks and sweets.

It wasn't long before the man was staring down the gambling tables, particularly those holding Poker or Texas Hold "Em. After a few small persuasions, flirtatious comments of her being his Lucky Charm for the evening, he'd drawn the small woman toward the tables and may have muttered something on more than one occasion about her rubbing off that good luck on him. Well behavior was relative, and he somehow managed to keep it respectable - at least under the eyes of others watching.

There had been a moment when a friend of Orchid approached her to say hello, someone he didn't know but introduced himself to with a smile before a stunning flash of red in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Orchid seemed to be chatting the poor boy's ear off and he placed a hand on her shoulder, promised to return momentarily, and slipped away from the two to say hello to a friend of his own. The shared smile was all too intimate, yet somehow reserved for public speculation, and a dazzling touch of secret memories as he caught up with Tahlia. A touch, as brief as it was to her lower back before something only the two would know was muttered into her ear, a few spared words for others to overhear that was likely much more appropriate, if not flirty, before he promised to "catch up" with her soon, pecking a kiss to her cheek and gave her a departing oil-slick smile as he returned to his date as promised.

Back in the game, with the chatterbox at his side, the man of the hour and the hostess was approached, hands shaken with Samuel as well as an introduction made as he indulged in a few questions himself. "What do you plan to do with the city's communications opportunities and prospering businesses?" He handed the man a business card, the ever-present businessman that he was with a smile for him. "If you have any interest in cross-verse communications, do let me know, Mr. Adder. Thank you for your time."

The hostess herself was given a number of tasteful compliments, from her dress to the party itself, and assurance of their good time as he thanked her for her efforts and time spent establishing the party. A business card was handed to her as well, with a slick smile and an inquiry if she was able to be hired perhaps for organizing other events. If Orchid had any questions or anything to say (he was positive she would, and if not, he'd be absolutely shocked!) before leaving Jewell and Samuel to their other guests.

With formalities out of the way, there were more drinks to be shared, perhaps even a few dances to be had, and maaaaybe a bit too much betting at the gambling tables - at least until Orchid had to put her tiny foot down and tore him away before Ada threw a fit of him emptying his bank accounts with gambling funds".

He managed to send one lone text before leaving the party, the same way they'd come - though perhaps with a pitstop in the elevator for "vice" sake"

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Playing the part of the ever deferential diplomat, Evia attended the gala solo. The rooftop locale made for a breathtaking view of the city and in fact, she was certain she could see the Jeshurun Gated Community from the party's perch. The Hobnob cocktail was much too pretty to decline and so she was found with one in hand through a fair portion of the evening while mingling with the so called Who's Who of Rhydin. The draw of the gambling tables proved too great and so she spent much of the night at a Texas Hold'em table until she was finally nudged away by the suspicious looks that came when she won just a few too many times in a row to be pure coincidence. Late in the gala, the ringing of her phone finally called her away with little more than an apologetic smile for those she was near before disappearing into a heavily tinted black sedan outside of the hotel.

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Meadow arrived at the upscale party on the hotel's rooftop at the request of her father, or more accurately, at the request of her father's manager. Something about cleaning up her image and smoothing over the most recent flurry of tabloid speculation pieces. Something about community outreach. Something about representing her father's interests since he couldn't be there himself.

Whatever. She'd ultimately given in and agreed for two reasons. An excuse to buy a pretty new dress, and free champagne.

She stayed on theme, choosing a form fitting one shouldered mini dress in a red and black pattern inspired by zebra stripes. It was trimmed in thick black lines and accented with gold eyelet rings, giving the impression that the bold printed garment had actually been tied into place across her body. It was appropriately tasteful but with a glam edge that pleased her. She looked good in it and she knew it.

Meadow mingled for a time, making polite conversation where necessary. The setting was exquisite, the provided refreshments delectable. The free champagne was plentiful, and the attendants were on top of their game in keeping her glass filled and sparkling. She knew next to no one present, and that in itself was refreshing, along with the utter absence paparazzi or lookie-loos trying to gate crash the event. These features of her new home town were still novel and charming — the freedom with which the city's rich and powerful moved, largely unmolested. She moved among them freely, enjoying the heady rush of being alone and anonymous.

It couldn't last. A particularly forward business man who had perhaps overindulged in the evening's special cocktails seemed singularly focused on pressing his interest with her, a fly she couldn't shake or swat away. The girl was beginning to become a bit desperate for escape or diversion—where are those stupid photographers when you actually need them?! when she claimed to have spotted an old friend out by the roof's edge and hurried in that direction.

The handsome stranger willingly played along, wrapping her up in a warm hug and chiding her for her long absence from his life. He was easy on the eyes and quick with his wit, and they spent the rest of the evening in one another's company. Seems there was more to this party than pretty clothes and free booze after all...

Millicent had procured a hobnob if only for the colour of it. She turned it in her alabaster hands and remarked upon the red. So much red. She offered some to Sinon if only to watch him, his mouth. While doing this, she noticed a long glance from a fiery woman. More red. She tilted her head, canting her features in question. Eventually she raised a brow at Sinon who would have to pivot to be able to see the woman himself but this was clearly what Millicent was imploring him to do. There were many glances to share this evening, many to cast of her own accord, but for some reason this stood out to her.

Whatever his response, she would contentedly lead him to the poker tables. She did not know how to play, and she would make light discourse with the gaggle of people there to inquire about the rules. Though, one, apparently, did not speak English. She would begin these conversations, even if Sinon knew the rules, which she was almost sure he did. And this was because, for the most part, they had been rather aloof. Quite predisposed. A bit much. And though that was precisely what she intended to be with Sinon tonight, she used this opportunity to venture out. At least once.

And, when Meadow was near by, she rose her voice to get her attention. "Meadow! Dear. Please." Please join us.

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He would come, cane in hand, and using it for it's intended purpose instead of for some affectation. It eased the time he spent on his feet while heading around the event.

He would check in, here and there with the people he knew. A small exchange of a glance, or a nod of his head, but a simple refusal of any drink, or food that was offered up to him. Polite. Quiet. Things usually not associated with Cianan.

He would circulate, and introduce himself where it was required, and maybe a bit of talk, at length with someone whom he was more familiar, where the facade might slip a bit, and a bit more warmth would show.

In the process of working the crowd, stopping for questions and introductions, Mr. Adder found himself pausing by the gambling tables, his attention drawn by an outburst-prone gambler, his curious gaze lingering a moment too long. There was something about the man's lively good luck, and his strange disposition for a cocktail party like this...

...but he kept his distance and moved on, closing in on an elegant couple with an air about them he found comfortably familiar. He shook Cranston's hand, kissed Ravyn's, and after exchanging a few pleasantries, turned his head to her ear for a few whispered words. He laughed as if whatever he'd said was no more than a joke.

Another pair caught his eye, Cris and Shae, perhaps for the way the latter deftly worked the crowd; but as with the noisy gambler over at the tables, he maintained a certain distance, though he made sure to greet them with a curved smile and a silent toast with his martini when their eyes chanced to meet.

There were a number of charming young executives and heirs here, two of whom he received especially warmly, no matter how little one of them truly desired to be there. He promised Malcolm Fox that his people would be in touch with MalFox Industries as soon as he had won, "and we can talk about opening the lines of communication between this office and cross-verse businesses that I hope to draw to RhyDin and Stars End....the same kinds of companies that I'm sure will avail themselves of your services."

There was something about Isaac Clark's manners that amused him, and it showed in his eyes when they shook hands. "Tell your father that I missed seeing him here, however charming the company he sent in his stead," he added with a chuckle. "We should meet soon, to discuss his....empire, and what he wishes to do with it. I'd be so very appreciative if you could pass that along."

As the evening progressed, ever more promises of conversations, introductions, and plans for the future flowed from Adder's lips, but through it all he paid close attention to the guests as they came and went, especially those who paid too close of attention themselves, or took too keen an interest in the talent he surrounded himself with...

The little books the hooded girls handed out made her bite her lip, a frown playing the cornerd of her mouth. That was an interesting way to start off the evening. While she may have appeared reluctant in her acceptance of Ducii's invite to attend the Red and Black Gala, she'd truthfully had her own reasons for attending. She was finalizing her plans for Uncollared, the shelter and rehabilitation center for those escaping or being released from slavery, and wanted to get a better feel about who to approach in the future.

Duci did not know people in the same way her replica did, and she may have appeared stand off-ish in the way she said little and smiled slightly. She allowed Ducii to shepherd her around, saying hellos and other nonsense, but dark eyes were constantly looking past to scan the room and to cast a surreptitious eye on the man of the hour.

What was he really hoping to gain from all of this?

After Ducii abandoned her to self-medicate in the rings, she lingered briefly then departed quietly woth a crowd also taking leave.

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