The next time Dorian approaches her, there's an amazing effect; the circle of nobles who'd been entertaining her and one another rather smoothly disperse with only a little less the abruptness of a school of fish avoiding a shark. They're smooth about it, of course -- they spy their cousin across the room, and must do their duty in saying bonjour, or they won't keep Lady Thevenet all to themselves, and one younger woman with a particularly ornate mask sort of implies she needs to use the bathroom before she swans away. Within moments, they're alone.

Dorian sighs, as if content.

"This whole affair is making me homesick," he says, mock wistful.