Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Nesrin Aziz]

The room tilted upon his axis the moment he entered.

Curiosity wasn’t hard to feign. In the moment when everyone looked, Nesrin was no different, though hers was a glimpse caught between shoulders. No one paid much mind to the servers weaving drinks amongst the guests. Ink dark hair was smoothed away from her face, and there was no mask shrouding the sharpness of her features. Or none visible anyway. All the staff wore the same. A bowtie hugged her throat, and a tailored waistcoat nipped in the crisp shirt and cigarette trousers. Her gaze travelled naturally amongst those gathered, but it only looked like attentiveness to the job as she moved amongst them. She watched reactions before she would indulge her own, though there was a strange feeling in her stomach she ignored even then. It was only the thrill of the con. That tease of unknown before hard work paid off in a symphony, or crashed apart in ruin. She had been waiting for this night for a long time.

Then one man in particular plucked a flute of champagne from her tray. She’d seen the guestlist, and could place names to most of the faces even behind the masks. A few anomalies existed, like rocks among the diamond, but nothing about this man’s demeanour suggested he was uncomfortable amidst the grandeur. She was barely sure what had captured her attention, but instinct was opportunity, and Nesrin was a master.

“Sir?” her voice was melodious, and raised in the kind of innocent inflection that suggested he might have just dropped something.

[[The man is Carter]]