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Ah to think such people were here as well. Perhaps it was a mistake coming here. After all, surely none of the nations that sent their best here thinks everything was swept under the rug after the war ended. And if they were, then they were more fool than she thought. Jeanne herself had no interest in past feuds, but she was no fool. Man tended to hold onto grudges, letting it fester until they can poison the object of their ire. 

[color=fff79a][i]The snake cannot gaze upon himself, and thus concludes there are no snakes in the grass.[/i][/color]

Seeing Franz set her thoughts on her own reputation however. What would have been her reputation amongst these people? Do people know her name at all? No, it was not as if she had did much. Perhaps overblown rumours by ignorant peasants and empty headed nobles who knew only to think with their penises. Perhaps they knew her only as the maker of furnaces, blissfully unaware of how nuanced the creation of such things were. Jeanne was not the type to blab however, so they wouldn't have known even if they were aware of their nuances. 

The light flickered, her hand went immediately to one of her lower shirt button. With a pop, the sole lightbulb extinguished itself, and normalcy seemed to return to the hall. Her hand, almost on the verge of a deathgrip upon the button, instead feigned to adjusting it instead. Continuing as if nothing happened, she went to the sides of the hall, where less people mingled. Perhaps she should get a fresh drink now.