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[right][b][code]Reception Room 
[@Wikkit][/code][/b][/right]
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Florian let his eyes shut with a smile of contentment as the girl heaped praise upon him, listing off his accolades one after the other - even Florian himself forgot the depth of skill in his resume at times, it was nice to have a reminder.

His self-satisfied expression faltered as she went on to describe the demise of her own family, not that the young woman, who revealed herself as “Yazhu”, appeared to mind much - perhaps she’d come with a chaperone? It was odd, she spoke similar to and shared mannerisms with that of nobility yet was remarkably… irreverent? Nonetheless, Florian put a hand to his chest and lowered his gaze slightly.

[colour=palegreen]”I am sorry to hear the fate of your family, for what it’s worth.”[/colour] Which was not much, admittedly, especially when Florian’s tone was often viewed as insincere largely due to trying so hard to [i]avoid[/i] sounding insincere. What didn’t help was him perking right back up as she laughed and began to delve into her own skills. [colour=palegreen]”Should you change your mind regarding a memorable moniker, please don’t hesitate to get in touch, I count the art of branding among my many skills!”[/colour]

She needn’t have asked, Florian was always more than happy to lend his considerable skill and resources to those who so desperately needed it. Which was why his sympathetic smile and quizzical tilt of the head returned at Yazhu’s request.

[colour=palegreen]”I would so love to help, but… I haven’t the slightest idea what you refer to. Tooth thing?”[/colour] Another haughty-sounding chuckle as he ran a gloved hand through one of his fringes. There it was again! Like a shower of sparkles fluttering off a diamond’s edge.

[colour=palegreen]”Ah, but enough jesting, Yazhu!”[/colour] Saying her name so casually was a confidence technique apparently, breeding friendly familiarity while still establishing a self-assertive demeanour. [colour=palegreen]”You are a master you say? Perchance you would permit me some knowledge of what your mastery is? I wouldn’t be so bold as to request a demonstration before the big event, but it would be marvellous to learn the theory behind your techniques!"[/colour]

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[right][b][code]Reception Room
[@Kamen Evie][/code][/b][/right]
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It was all over. It was all falling apart. Stupid Lucas and his stupid mouth. “What’s your name?”, “Are you competing?” What kind of fucking moron asks something like that!?

It was clear to him that Jasmine’s previously guarded manner had crept back in - even if only slightly - enough for paranoid overthinking kicked back into overdrive. What didn’t help was the mention of her mother. Lucas had virtually zero experience with magical girl or demonic affairs but he certainly knew family troubles. It affected him just as it clearly was affecting her. She was moving inward, troubling herself with issues that, even if they could be helped, Lucas was very much not the person equipped to do it - least of all in the middle of a packed hall of maniacs.

So he did the only thing he could do, the life-honed Miller technique.

The self-sabotage.

[colour=yellow]”C-cool.”[/colour] Was all he said in response to her merely tagging along. [colour=yellow]”I-I’m sorry I asked that.[/colour] His tiny mind was eroding, drowning in a sea of neurotoxin. [colour=yellow]”I’m s-sorry to hear about the family s-stuff.”[/colour] The fighting carnival had yet to even begin, and Lucas Miller had already lost. [colour=yellow]”I-I’m sorry I said cool.”[/colour]

His head bowed, like a flagellant nomad preparing to rip the flesh from his back with a cat-of-nine-tails as penance for existing. Truthfully, even Lucas wasn’t normally this self-critical, but he was too taken aback by his attraction for the girl, placed too much stake into a halfway civil conversation and ultimately when it hit the most minor of stumble it completely took him out. He didn’t want to be talking anymore, he wanted the ground to swallow up his body along with all collective memory that he’d even existed.

[colour=yellow]”I-I-I have to go.”[/colour] His delivery was more subdued, difficult to hear over everything else in the room along with the quickening of his speech. [colour=yellow]”U-uh-I ha-have to g-got-go get ready f-for, the m- mmm…”[/colour] Mumbling turned to near whispering, his pace became even further frantic. [colour=yellow]”itwasnicemeetingyouJasmineseeyouaroundsorryagain, sorry!”[/colour]

Then he turned in the stiffest one hundred and eighty degree manner anyone would likely ever see and began darting off into the crowd. He began turning the volume back up on his earpiece, letting his Father’s bombastic personality be a sound of comfort as he tried to disappear into the crowd.