Searching (Radiance)

[Constantine Harroway]

He watched the bottle of champagne be delivered to a happy pair of recipients, and after a few moments opted to rise and join them. He passed near to another table along the way, the one with the new American privilege and the sporadic threads flashing and bursting between them. He cast both man and woman a coy smile as he neared, tempted to pluck at those threads, but once another man introduced himself to the Privilege, he decided to see what might happen. Perhaps a little love triangle might make their day a bit more entertaining. Best to way and see what happened.

So he joined the man and woman at the bar. “I hope the champagne was to your liking,” he said, smiling broadly and draping an arm along the back of the woman’s chair. “Connie Harroway,” he said by way of introduction and offered to shake hands.

[Colette Moreau]

Colette was halfway through the lobby when a passing glance into the Radiance’s signature bar caught and held her attention. It was meant to be nothing more than idle observation, yet she saw Adrian standing near the entrance, speaking with one of his employees. A subtle quickening stirred in her chest at the sight of him. He had not yet noticed her, and she allowed herself the indulgence of looking twice.

By any reasonable measure, he was the sort of man one might enjoy watching as he moved through his day: confident without display, at ease in his own space, not to mention unbelievably handsome. Yet whatever intoxicating pull had followed their evening at the Masquerade had softened. She had dreamt of him far too often since then, and usually not in the best of dreams, and there was something in her pride that resisted for no apparent reason. The sensible course would have been to lower her gaze and continue through the lobby without pause. Then her eyes shifted past his shoulder. Carter stood at one of the tables.

The sight of him arrested her step, though she betrayed nothing of it outwardly. He was speaking with Privilege Thrice of all people. What possible business could the Privilege have here? The question rose sharp and immediate. Surely she had not come to meet Carter?

She knew Carter (And Gui) were staying at the Radiance; the gossip feeds had murmured as much for a while. He had never bothered to tell her directly, which was just like him. She would not scurry out of a hotel of this caliber as though she had something to evade. Still, it irritated her each time she passed him and felt the subtle gravity of his attention. If he would simply accept that she was not interested, perhaps he would redirect his focus elsewhere. The Privilege, she noted coolly, was said to be single. Pretty enough, certainly, though a more cosmopolitan makeover might do wonders for her appeal to someone like Carter.

Decision settled over Colette. She crossed the lobby in her full-length camel coat, the cashmere falling in clean, unbroken lines to mid-calf. The belt was tied with studied ease, suggesting effortlessness rather than intention. Beneath it, a silk blouse plunged from her throat in soft waves, paired with deep espresso trousers tailored to lengthen her stride above chocolate suede boots. The effect was understated and deliberate, a harmony of texture and tone rather than ornament.

A structured burgundy handbag rested in her gloved hand, the leather immaculate and unadorned. Diamond studs caught the light at her ears. When she slowed near the entrance to the bar, she removed her gloves with unhurried care, revealing the slim gold watch at her wrist. She approached Adrian first, of course. Her smile bloomed bright and effortless as she laid a light hand upon his arm, positioning herself so that Carter and his companion could not help but see her.

“Adrian, what a pleasure,” she said warmly, leaning to brush a kiss against his cheek. “I was just thinking of you the other day. I began to wonder if you intended to leave me waiting forever after the ball.”

As she drew back, she brushed her hair behind her shoulder, her posture angled ever so slightly toward the room.
Toward Carter. She did not need to look to know she had been seen.

[Jensen James]

While he gathered his thoughts, a man approached to speak to Jessika.

It was clear that he knew her, and it shouldn’t have taken Jensen by surprise given her newfound political status, but he was surprised when Jessika so effortlessly rose to greet him in return.

She shook his hand warmly, laying her other on his arm like old friends. Jensen recognized the intimacy for friendly hospitality, but he knew how she could dazzle anyone with a smile. It was only a thin line between warmth and flirtation with Jessika, even if Jensen wasn’t one to judge anymore.

“It IS a pleasure to see you again,” she over emphasized almost every syllable. There was a time Jensen would have followed suit, but now the false niceties were hollow.

“Please allow me to introduce someone. This is Mister Jensen James,” she gestured to him in that familiar way that told him that she had no idea who this person was, and Jensen was to get the name out of him himself to avoid embarrassing her.

But then she added something that made him pause halfway to his feet. “My ex-husband.”

He looked at her curiously, wondering if that was the first time she’d ever said it out loud. For that matter, he didn’t even know if that was legally true, but perhaps being a Privilege came with writing whatever legal laws she wanted, especially in another country.

“Just Jensen,” he said quietly, turning to greet this stranger. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name?” He added on cue just as they had done a thousand times before in similar social circumstances.

Although perhaps this circumstance wasn’t quite like anything that came before.

[Carter de Volthström]

Carter felt the light pressure of Jessika’s hand upon his arm and allowed the faintest warmth to touch his smile. She beamed up at him with that particular radiance of those accustomed to being admired, and though he appreciated beauty in various forms, there was something  blinding about her enthusiasm. It was staring into the face of the sun.

Her acknowledgment of their prior meeting amused him. He had worn a mask the entirety of the Masquerade, and he doubted very much that she had truly recognized him beneath it. That she chose to behave as though she had told him more than recognition ever could. Jessika was observant. More than that, she was willing to play along without forcing the reveal. That alone told him something about her.

He did not so much as blink when she introduced her companion as an ex-husband though. Unexpected, certainly, but Carter gave no sign of surprise. He turned smoothly, extending his hand to Jensen with a firm, confident clasp that conveyed neither dominance nor submission, only certainty.
“Carter de Volthström,” he said, his tone rich and unhurried. “A pleasure, Mister James.”

His gaze held just long enough to suggest interest without intrusion. Jensen was being measured, though politely.

“I had the honor of attending the event when the Privilege was introduced to society,” he continued, turning his attention back to Jessika with a subtle incline of his head. “A remarkable affair. One does not often witness the birth of influence.” It was then that movement at the edge of the room drew his attention. It was Colette.

She entered the bar composed and luminous in camel and ivory. Carter’s posture did not change, nor did his expression, but something sharpened behind his eyes. She was speaking with Adrian, close enough to suggest familiarity. He had learned, after the fact, that she and Adrian had attended that same Masquerade together. It had been one of several reasons Carter had chosen to remain at the Radiance longer than strictly necessary. Proximity, he had learned, was often more useful than confrontation.  A brief pulse of irritation rose and vanished just as quickly.

Adrian was polished and capable, but Carter did not compete in haste. He returned his attention to Jessika with a smile that might have convinced a lesser observer he had never been distracted at all. There was an ease to it, a cultivated sincerity that suggested attentiveness as a gift freely given.

“I am certain your responsibilities to the Sphere demand more of you than most realize,” he said, voice low and warm. “Yet I find myself reluctant to surrender such engaging company so soon. May I join you for a drink, Privilege?”