[indent][h2][b][i]L o r d   F i n n e g a n   O a k[/i][/b] 𝓼[/h2][/indent]


[indent]Thinking of himself as being too friendly with Alexander, Finnegan reminded himself that he had several reasons to make such a display of relations with the queer man. Some of them being his very own follies having to do with the woman he had almost carelessly brought to the masquerade. Asides these reasoning, Alexander needed more uplifting than the usual, and Finnegan was generally a fair person for such a display of action. Finnegan could not deny himself such a trait, “Yes, hmm...” he glanced at Alexander’s outfit, making a brief more professional acceptance of the man’s dark, attire. The golden intricacies were finely embroidered into the cuffs and so forth of the outfit, “Mademoiselle Evelyn is very much a doll…  But, so are you,” the man paused and took the chance to look at Alexander once again, studying the man’s features, “Your masquerades sound absolutely delightful. However, I fear simply mentioning them at such an operando might be cause for some impolite scandal,” his eyes cast down as his eyebrows motioned in exaggerated concern. 

A switch in conversation was needed, and he swallowed and perked a small smile. His eyes glanced whimsically around as if he was trying to make it appear that he was trying to keep any eavesdroppers from believing he would be alleviating himself a secret onto his company, “I must inform you,” he leaned closer. One arm folded across his chest, the other raised, like he was going to point at a fixture on the library and make a boring comment that only a man of dry humor could possibly contrive as interesting, “My younger brother, whom I have told you very little about if nothing at all — probably for good reason, such as, he is extremely vulnerable and definitely only save for things that have absolutely nothing to do with gossip aside from what I am about to tell you,” his raised-hand fanned and made a small motion as his face turned to Alexander, looking up at him with slightly demeaning eyes, “is going to be working in my perfumery. I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Finnegan’s hand lowered and a closed lip laugh smiled on him as he awaited Alexander’s expression. 

Then again, Finnegan thought he was perhaps not being as polite as he usually was with Alexander. It was tough to say. His very own style had been compromised sometime ago, which was dissuading his attention, and tonight was growing longer by the second. The nerves in the room smelled like a feast for whoever was playing puppeteer for the event. Lady Alyssana might know a thing or two about what was happening, but he would rather find his information elsewhere. Alexander seemed more informed than he did, and therefore, he continued circumventing his own way to the middle of the situation. [/indent] 

[indent][h2][b][i]E v e l y n   A[/i][/b] 𝓼 [b][i]h t o n[/i][/b][/h2][/indent]

[indent]Watching Finnegan leave the conversation was disheartening. Evelyn wished to follow after him, but knew she would be acting foolishly if she bid herself so. Her eyes glanced up at Lady Alyssana’s, beneath her birdish mask. She thought to ask Lady Alyssana how long she knew Monsieur Finnegan, but alas, her timing was too slow, and a new woman approached them both. Evelyn’s hands spread, and she gave a small curtsy.  “Thank you. The pleasure is all mine, as Monsieur Finnegan Oaks has invited me as his guest,” her voice seemed airy as it chimed through the air, attempting to sound all too natural with this setting. Albeit, she knew nothing of Lady Alyssana and Lottie or their status aside from being noble of some sort. She had wanted to also make herself known as Lord Finnegan Oak’s date, but her voice was not quite strong enough to make such a strong hold on his name during her introduction.

The woman, Lottie, after making her swift introduction began at once to compliment things on Lady Alyssana as the young lady had vaguely been wanting to do, and Evelyn’s own hand drew upwards, slowly feeling the beads and jewels that daintily glamoured her own mask. Finnegan had mentioned the mask had been worn by his mother at one time or another. He had also complimented how beautifully she was wearing it. Her hand gently nipped the mask, as if to make it appear that she had been adjusting her mask quietly, and in paranoia, believing that her movements were all too obvious, dropped her hand back to a fold over her other hand, penitently positioned in front of her lower waist.

Briefly, she looked around the room, trying to locate her dearest Finnegan and his whereabouts. However, there was a haze that made her feel less interested in scurrying off. For one, it was bad etiquette; for two, it was not what her lord had asked for the two ladies; for three, she just did not [i]feel[/i] like it. (Her eyes felt heavy.) Instead, she began trying to remind herself to pick up the social cues from the very company right in front of her. It did not in the least come to her mind that her father’s surname had not once been mentioned. She was still astonished by the entire ordeal to notice, and suddenly, another person made his acquaintance. He was a childish looking thing, and was quipped with such an elegant innocence. The most she could do for the boy was make a small nod, as she had witnessed Lady Alyssana do to her during their introductions.[/indent]