The small, quaint village of Riverside had always appealed to Shinnston's sensibilities. It had that lovely Dutch-German architecture that made it feel warm and inviting, just enough amenities to get whatever you'd need, and was simply clean and well kept. The cobblestone streets were a nice touch as well. However, Daston Shinnston was on duty tonight, as with every night. He was standing just before the local docks, right in the center of town, on Main Street. His hair was cropped short and neat, atop his dark eyes and surprisingly charming smile, finished off by his Italian dinner suit, navy pinstripe, designed to minimize his musculature and bulk.
He'd been here all day, over-viewing the decorators that turned the marina from a bland public gathering place into a rather lovely homage of a Moroccan market. The lamps and torches even helped to dull the bite of the crisp winter air. Shinnston had to give it to his employer, not only did he have fine taste, but his accuracy was spot on. The marina reminded him so much of Marrakesh, he found himself remembering the women he'd met there. The guests had been told to arrive at 8:00 pm, but as with all gatherings, there would be early birds. So he and Charlotte stood down at the entrance, her with a tray of fine champagne in hand. As the guests arrived, he greeted each of them with his handsome, disarming smile, calling them by name with the appropriate title. He'd worked for enough politicians and royalty to find this particular responsibility rather second nature. "Welcome Mrs. Harborough, looking lovely as ever. And I assume this love miss is your daughter Tanya?"
During this time, he gave incredibly discrete once overs checking for the usual dangers, guns, bombs, lumps in clothing. The guests never even knew he was looking. After all, he wasn't simply Mr. Acheson's Personal Assistant, but also his Head of Security. He knew every guest and every single one of their plus-ones, even those that had changed last second. It was his job to know. He'd delivered the invitations in the mysterious fashion at the request of his employer, and finding out about fairly normal people was a lot easier than his previous lines of work.
After the guests entered the marina, they'd be greeted by light music from a string quartet placed in the center of the space, warm lighting from the Moroccan lamps, and a few servants, all dressed in fine black tuxes or dinner gowns, with trays of drinks and hors'doeuvres, warm smiles, and the occasional seductive glance. As the twentieth hour came closer, the guests could first hear the arrival of their ferry, signaled by music playing, that accompanied the quartet. A male was singing, and it was a song that many of the younger adults would know, but with a more orchestral feel in the instrumentals. The tune was warm, romantic, and slow, and as the large ferry neared, it soon became evident who was singing. It was Jennings Taylor, the latest music sensation. A young, classically good looking man, whose soft rock ballads and fast dance music put his group, For You, at the top of pop and rock charts. The true fans would be incredibly surprised, as Jennings was supposed to be on tour in Europe.
As the ship docked, the song came to a close, and Jennings could be seen on the upper deck, smiling down at the guests. With microphone in hand, "My good friend Mister Acheson welcomes you all to his ball, and hopes you all will have the best night of your lives. So come aboard, allow me to serenade you, and enjoy the ride to Isle Potestas."
The marina's Moroccan theme transitioned pleasantly into the ship's more modern, Southern European feel, lots of Greek and Italian adornment. It was kept warm, plenty of seating and standing room, drinks, food, and a special seating section designated for the younger men and women just in front of Jennings and his band. Once all the guests were aboard, the ship would be ready to depart.
He'd been here all day, over-viewing the decorators that turned the marina from a bland public gathering place into a rather lovely homage of a Moroccan market. The lamps and torches even helped to dull the bite of the crisp winter air. Shinnston had to give it to his employer, not only did he have fine taste, but his accuracy was spot on. The marina reminded him so much of Marrakesh, he found himself remembering the women he'd met there. The guests had been told to arrive at 8:00 pm, but as with all gatherings, there would be early birds. So he and Charlotte stood down at the entrance, her with a tray of fine champagne in hand. As the guests arrived, he greeted each of them with his handsome, disarming smile, calling them by name with the appropriate title. He'd worked for enough politicians and royalty to find this particular responsibility rather second nature. "Welcome Mrs. Harborough, looking lovely as ever. And I assume this love miss is your daughter Tanya?"
During this time, he gave incredibly discrete once overs checking for the usual dangers, guns, bombs, lumps in clothing. The guests never even knew he was looking. After all, he wasn't simply Mr. Acheson's Personal Assistant, but also his Head of Security. He knew every guest and every single one of their plus-ones, even those that had changed last second. It was his job to know. He'd delivered the invitations in the mysterious fashion at the request of his employer, and finding out about fairly normal people was a lot easier than his previous lines of work.
After the guests entered the marina, they'd be greeted by light music from a string quartet placed in the center of the space, warm lighting from the Moroccan lamps, and a few servants, all dressed in fine black tuxes or dinner gowns, with trays of drinks and hors'doeuvres, warm smiles, and the occasional seductive glance. As the twentieth hour came closer, the guests could first hear the arrival of their ferry, signaled by music playing, that accompanied the quartet. A male was singing, and it was a song that many of the younger adults would know, but with a more orchestral feel in the instrumentals. The tune was warm, romantic, and slow, and as the large ferry neared, it soon became evident who was singing. It was Jennings Taylor, the latest music sensation. A young, classically good looking man, whose soft rock ballads and fast dance music put his group, For You, at the top of pop and rock charts. The true fans would be incredibly surprised, as Jennings was supposed to be on tour in Europe.
As the ship docked, the song came to a close, and Jennings could be seen on the upper deck, smiling down at the guests. With microphone in hand, "My good friend Mister Acheson welcomes you all to his ball, and hopes you all will have the best night of your lives. So come aboard, allow me to serenade you, and enjoy the ride to Isle Potestas."
The marina's Moroccan theme transitioned pleasantly into the ship's more modern, Southern European feel, lots of Greek and Italian adornment. It was kept warm, plenty of seating and standing room, drinks, food, and a special seating section designated for the younger men and women just in front of Jennings and his band. Once all the guests were aboard, the ship would be ready to depart.
