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Aoife had probably gone through a dozen suits and dresses before she found something she felt worked for her. She had gone back and forth between trying to wear something that felt as though it matched her personal combat style. Something that would read wavey, free, like a river or ocean. However, she’d not found something that felt as though it’d look good on her in movement – kind of defeated the purpose to portray flow if it only looked good in a picture. She finally settled on a navy dress with a waist slit that allowed her entire left leg to emerge from its depths. It was something of a daring number, but Aoife felt that she looked a little clumsy in it. Regardless, it was her best option at the moment  

It didn’t take a detective to suss out the fact that Aoife had two left feet and had spent even fewer hours at an affair quite like this one. She’d once been to a 16th birthday party that had some similarities to this event. In that there were some middle-aged men performing, as well as a couple teens who were trying to avoid speaking to one another. Outside of those key similarities though, there really wasn’t much there for Aoife to draw on. 

During quite a bit of the proceedings Aoife stole glances from her teammates, each of which had somewhat unique reactions to what was happening. Rivka looked like she was contemplating turning her own weapon on herself, Crystal for what it was worth looked to be deliberating between bringing about another ice age, or toughing it out. She was walking that line like a trapeze artist, nearly tumbling to either side as the speeches carried on far past what anyone would consider to be reasonable. Chie seemed to, not unlike Aoife herself, taking stock of where the rest of the team was at. She couldn’t help but wonder what Chie would read from her own decidedly blank visage. She figured most people would assume there wasn’t much that Aoife would know about these kinds of situations, but she looked content enough she supposed. 

As soon as the final speech silenced, the band jumped to life and Rivka leapt from her seat. Chie made some kind of a quip about how Rivka didn’t seem the type to waltz, but Aoife wondered if that were true. Rivka was someone who wanted to be an auteur. Aoife hadn’t spent enough time with the girl to know that was true about every other aspect of her life, but it was certainly true in a fight. Aoife suspected it bled over to everything else she did as well. The waltz, Aoife assumed, was a way for Rivka to express herself like any other. Aoife spied as she ripped her neck from her tie, her hand stuffing it into a pocket of the double-breasted number she’d worn, and pulled off, excellently. 

Aoife watched as Chie asked Selma for a dance, or perhaps she’d been asking everyone still at the table? It wasn’t clear as she made direct eye contact with their coniferous teammate. Aoife gulped down some lasting semblance of an internal monologue begging her not to get up with the rest of her teammates. She gulped down the last of her water that splashed about in a crystal glass as if it was a shot of the strongest whiskey she’d ever had and regarded her teammates, speaking for the first time in words that weren’t pleasantries for the entire night. 

[color=0892d0]“Ladies, if I, or one of you don’t make it back from this, it has been an absolute honour,”[/color] she said. She strode out to the dancefloor without a single sense of rhythm in her body, and looked for some hope for salvation, whatever form that may take.