[center][h1][color=8585ad][i]Maxwell Alderman[/i][/color][/h1][/center][hr]
Max tugged at his collar distastefully. This tie was killing him, and it wasn't making him look particularly classy tonight either. He was dressed up in the expected suit and tie, of course - it's a formal occasion - but his hair was still as uncombed as ever and the bags under his eyes hadn't faded a bit. Not to mention his posture; he swore he'd heard some gossiping vampire mumble "abysmal" as he walked past, and to be fair, it was an apt description. He barely managed to resist the urge to shove his hands in his pockets as he slunk around the courtyard, crafting a deliberate scowl to ward off any avid minglers.

While he knew, in theory, no one would dare disrupt such a prestigious event, Max remained guarded. He still wasn't too comfortable with being promoted from "Worthless Insect" to "Tasty Insect" in the eyes of vampirekind. Unfortunately, as the night wore on and his stomach started betraying him, lurking about the outskirts of the party grew tiresome. He knew he should've shown up fashionably late. Or rather, unfashionably late - right at the very end. 

He crept closer to a wandering servant with a tray of food and started plucking off tasty looking morsels without so much as a "Thanks", narrowly dodging some friendly-looking blond that seemed to be itching for a chat. The guy's face reminded Max of an annoying golden retriever - he'd never get out of [i]that[/i] conversation. Maybe if he stayed near the vampires he'd be less bothered; their socializing was usually only done with political or social purpose rather than genuine amiability. Although that does bring him a bit out of his comfort zone.

His dilemma was interrupted as the princess began her welcoming speech, with Max leveling a sharp glare in her direction only briefly before reigning his expression into one of thinly-veiled disdain. About halfway through, the glare returned. Were Her Highness not so ancient, Max would've accused the woman standing on the fountain to be some naive idealist. But no, a vampire of her age and caliber had to be worldly enough to know better, not to mention crafty enough to see the need for such a facade of empty platitudes regarding cooperation and bonding. 

At the speech's conclusion, he refused to even politely clap, instead turning his attention to the now-unsealed envelope in his hand. He was back on his guard, and needed a target to redirect his anger to now that the princess was no longer in sight.

[color=8585ad]"Morrigan Cade. Sounds pretentious."[/color] He mumbled as he flipped to the included picture. He immediately began to glare daggers at the photographed boy, as if it would somehow reach the real Morrigan through association. Once he had sufficiently seared every facet of his new captor's visage into his mind, he perked his head upward and did a quick scan of the immediate area. No sign of him. Good. More time to bore holes into the papers in his hand with his eyes. 

With the sheer intensity of his gaze, it's a minor miracle the poor photo hadn't burst into flames yet. Undeterred, Max improvised; crumpling up the photo in his hand with a scornful grimace before nursing his expression back into one of ambient discontent. 

[color=8585ad]"Whatever. Let him waste his time looking for me."[/color]