[Well, of course he's dressed sharply, all crisp blues with silver trim run riot over the vest and jacket, in the way that an ambassador from [REDACTED] should appropriately be dressed. Of course, and this is murmured about around the crowd as Palamedes makes his way through the entrance to the ballroom, pausing—
just a moment—
to look over his shoulder at the door swinging shut behind him, but it closes definitively before he can see whatever he needs to see.
So: the party. Frankly, he didn't want to come to this, but his mother insisted, and what else is the "ambassador" title supposed to be for?, and rather than listen to her chuckle at him over his trim and tails, he just goes.
Something that must be rakishly funny comes out of his mouth as he looks back at the people surrounding him because most of them laugh, and he's not really paying attention to any one introduction as he nods at this mask or the other smile or this pair of fluttering lashes, no— he wants to... like, not be here. That'd be great.
It takes him a full minute to extricate himself from those guests thrilled about the new face, and he is shuffling away with his glasses off, rubbing them inelegantly on the hem of his shirt (which he has scandalously untucked for this purpose, call the guard) when he spots Viktor in his path. That is to say, he whips his glasses up in front of his face to check his polishing job so quickly that he nearly elbows Viktor in the head, first thing, on his approach.
The room kind of stutters for a moment, like everything shifts abruptly to the left and snaps back again before anyone can notice. Palamedes blinks and puts his glasses all the way on. Ah-]
no subject
just a moment—
to look over his shoulder at the door swinging shut behind him, but it closes definitively before he can see whatever he needs to see.
So: the party. Frankly, he didn't want to come to this, but his mother insisted, and what else is the "ambassador" title supposed to be for?, and rather than listen to her chuckle at him over his trim and tails, he just goes.
Something that must be rakishly funny comes out of his mouth as he looks back at the people surrounding him because most of them laugh, and he's not really paying attention to any one introduction as he nods at this mask or the other smile or this pair of fluttering lashes, no— he wants to... like, not be here. That'd be great.
It takes him a full minute to extricate himself from those guests thrilled about the new face, and he is shuffling away with his glasses off, rubbing them inelegantly on the hem of his shirt (which he has scandalously untucked for this purpose, call the guard) when he spots Viktor in his path. That is to say, he whips his glasses up in front of his face to check his polishing job so quickly that he nearly elbows Viktor in the head, first thing, on his approach.
The room kind of stutters for a moment, like everything shifts abruptly to the left and snaps back again before anyone can notice. Palamedes blinks and puts his glasses all the way on. Ah-]
Sorry— hi. Worst party I've ever seen.
[normal things for ambassadors to say]