open | your baddest behavior

[cozen]

WHO: Alexandrie, Bastien, Byerly, and their captive audience
WHAT: Mandatory etiquette and dance lessons
WHEN: Justinian 15, 9:45
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: See the OOC post and IC announcement for more information! If you didn't sign up, you can still participate in Parts A and D, and just handwave the other two, without needing to sign up or get an assignment. If you want to do B and C, you can find your own dance partner/seating group OOC, or you can sign up now and we'll dole out new assignments if we get enough latecomers to do so. If you signed up and are missing from the lists when you shouldn't be, I'm sorry and please tell me!

disclaimer: event less fancy than pictured

Seating Assignments
— Table One: Gwenaëlle, Iorveth, Matthias, Athessa
— Table Two: Flint, Ilias, Darras, Med Seller, Yngvi
— Table Three: Julius, Thranduil, Anders, Brienne
— Table Four: Benedict, Colin, Valentine, Six, Derrica
— Table Five: Teren, Salvio, Bartimaeus, Osana
— Table Six: Freddie, Petrana, Kain, Merrill, Silver
— Table Seven: Yseult, Cosima, Steve, Inessa
— Table Eight: Sidony, Fifi, Nell, Fingon
— Table Nine: Thor, Nathaniel H., Solas, Skadi

Dance Partners
— Cosima & Nathaniel H.
— Athessa & Anders
— Teren & Flint
— Freddie & Bartimaeus
— Yseult & Darras
— Nell & Julius
— Merrill & Colin
— Skadi & Benedict
— Gwenaëlle & Solas
— Petrana & Salvio
— Osana & the Medicine Seller
— Sidony & Matthias
— Six & Thranduil
— Brienne & Valentine
— Fifi & Steve
— Thor & Fingon
— Ilias & Iorveth

Comments

[cyclic]

[ There's something to be said for the way her awkward stalling helps him feel less unbalanced, like he's gaining confidence at her expense. Maybe he's just pleased that she's grateful, not caught off-guard. That's a normal and perfectly fair response, surely.

John doesn't draw his gaze back from the dancing until after she speaks, brow furrowing thoughtfully at the mention of surviving. She's right. He's seen her throw off imps and destructive magic like gnats, which is something he's got questions about. Later.

His attention isn't particularly heavy or expectant. He seems patient, content to let her stumble through an answer and that awkward thank you. Until the last comment, which strikes him as immensely backhanded when a) it means he wasn't dressed well before, and b) she considers these middling local clothes an improvement, which is a tragically low bar. His reserved expression flickers with childish indignation; there for a split second, gone a pensive beat later. ]

My trousers were a bit— well, I see a very good tailor, now. [ humility + bragging in one line, it's like bingo. Awkwardly, as he can't help straightening the sleeve of his shirt: ] Well— before. Not here.

[rathercommon]

[ She nearly misses his look of outrage, but glances over at the very last moment to see him twitch. Honestly, he's simply so vain, isn't he? Not like her - she hardly puts a thought into her appearance - which is why she wears very practical tunics and trousers, dyed in dark colors, with her hair pushed back efficiently, so that it's clear that she's not one of those frilly flouncy girls but rather someone who means business. ]

Well, you oughtn't be seeing a tailor here. [ With a shrug - ] No one's going to buy you as the lord of something-or-other manor here, so if you dress posh, they'll assume you're some rich commoner. And that's how you end up with your pockets picked. This is far more sensible.

[ She glances at him a moment evaluatively, then adds - ] Besides, you look like a person like this.

[cyclic]

[ He'd come to the same conclusion. Or he'd come to the same excuse, at least, on account of not being able to afford genuinely nice clothing and having (thankfully) grown out of not knowing the difference between expensive and nice.

It's— pleasant, being on the same page. Not because her approval's important. It's just much easier than constantly having to..... correct her....... anyway, the last comment does hit a small snag and begs mild confusion. ]

I've always looked like a person.

[ this is a very dumb retort, as is his surprise at example #8972343 of her despising magicians AND the very notion of magicians somehow being bullied by commoners, but reALLY. ]

[rathercommon]

[ She purses her lips and - somehow - refrains from critiquing his prior choices in detail. Instead, she turns to the broader category of people who don't really look like people. ]

You don't take a look at someone in a suit carrying around a cane and see a person. You either see danger or a fool. Like - Look, him.

[ She points across the room at Benedict Artimaeus, finely dressed and handsome and quite punchable. ]

The way he talks, and the way he dresses and carries himself - there's no one who trusts him here.

[cyclic]

[ He isn't sold on it right away, because she's just described the entirety of Parliament and any self-respecting magician he's ever met. But the example does give him pause, and John doesn't rally a response quickly.

It's impossible not to think of Simon Lovelace. He'd considered him impressive, powerful — what she'd call dangerous, probably. And he'd turned out to be both that and foolish, in his own way. And John had done everything in his power to emulate him anyway.

Slightly harder now, of course, but that wasn't by choice. If it was an option, he'd still be wearing the same suits and getting chauffeured by expensive cars. And that's the sticking point: she's just complimented him and set him apart on account of circumstance, not real merit. ]

You have a point. [ He doesn't stumble when he answers, and he sounds more thoughtful than meek. ] But isn't that just a matter of context? Likewise, nobody in Parliament — or an Orelesian ball — would trust either of us, if we showed up looking like this.

[rathercommon]

True. But they also wouldn't trust us if we showed up looking grand. If we were going to Parliament, or an Orlesian ball, we'd dress in servants' clothes and blend in with the help, wouldn't we.

[ She tilts her head to the side, surveying him slantwise. She fancies that, even with his nose in the air like it always is, even with his soft hands and his pallor, he might pass for a commoner. - Which isn't surprising, is it. Magicians always started out as commoners, before their magic was discovered...

No. Bartimaeus had told her this. Before they started summoning and enslaving spirits, who were the ones with all the real magic. There really isn't any difference between her and him, is there. ]

If your dignity would permit that, of course.

u ever type something regretfully english

[cyclic]

[ It absolutely wouldn't. It also won't permit him to say that outright, so: ]

Of course it would. It's just— you can do things properly, you know. You don't always have to resort to lies and skulking about.

[ Well, he can do things properly. She obviously didn't have any connections, and he can see how she'd struggle to make any. In England, anyway. Here is... they aren't really in the same position here, are they? His education and experience must count for something. ]

so often

[rathercommon]

Lies and skulking about?

[ Her brows draw together, and her mouth turns down in a forbidding frown. It's the look that has proceeded many a punch to the jaw - though for right now, her fists remain by her side. For right now. ]

I'd be quite happy to hear your suggestions on how to conduct myself properly, Mr Mandrake. What shall I do - march in the streets, so that the Night Police can set upon me and my comrades and tear us apart? Stand up in court and decry the system, so that I can be told that the oath of a commoner is worth less than spit? Or are you saying that you think I ought to just try for direct assassination?