[There aren't many women in tonight. This is, firstly, because they have their own dedicated evening, along with the usual mixers. Secondly, because women are the star attraction tonight and, later this evening, a succession of exaggerated versions of femininity will take to the catwalk the streaks down the middle of the floor to mime a selection of international (interplanetary) hits.
Among the jostling crowd, Cassidy doesn't particularly look out of place. Casual is acceptable, though the others wearing similar outfits somehow make them look like they took two hours to choose and style.
His rings wouldn't have been at all out of place.
There is some enchantment about the place - from the glitterball that casts everything in sparkling, colour-shifting shimmers to the general buzz of the place. Even if the staff here happen to be a different kind of fairy.
The girl at the bar is a rare bird in the aviary, her hair a bright beacon in dim light, curling to just above her shoulders and tumbling down round her face as she bends her head over the umbrella of a purple cocktail which - if Cassidy had stepped close a second sooner - he'd have heard her call so gay and suggesting a rename from Purple Rain to the Queen Confirmation.
She's facing away from him, so he won't see her startle between spitting and swallowing at the sound of his voice, though he might catch her (surprisingly graceful) shoulders lift sharply before swallow is the option taken.
The dress she's wearing is simple in comparison with the kind usually on show here. Black ribboned with gold, wrapped in just low enough on the thigh to avoid obscenities so long as she steers clear of bar stools. Cassidy gets a better look at the dress than her face as she turns, head dipped coyly, face shadowed. Voice low, but soft (accent flattened out to something generic.)]
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Among the jostling crowd, Cassidy doesn't particularly look out of place. Casual is acceptable, though the others wearing similar outfits somehow make them look like they took two hours to choose and style.
His rings wouldn't have been at all out of place.
There is some enchantment about the place - from the glitterball that casts everything in sparkling, colour-shifting shimmers to the general buzz of the place. Even if the staff here happen to be a different kind of fairy.
The girl at the bar is a rare bird in the aviary, her hair a bright beacon in dim light, curling to just above her shoulders and tumbling down round her face as she bends her head over the umbrella of a purple cocktail which - if Cassidy had stepped close a second sooner - he'd have heard her call so gay and suggesting a rename from Purple Rain to the Queen Confirmation.
She's facing away from him, so he won't see her startle between spitting and swallowing at the sound of his voice, though he might catch her (surprisingly graceful) shoulders lift sharply before swallow is the option taken.
The dress she's wearing is simple in comparison with the kind usually on show here. Black ribboned with gold, wrapped in just low enough on the thigh to avoid obscenities so long as she steers clear of bar stools. Cassidy gets a better look at the dress than her face as she turns, head dipped coyly, face shadowed. Voice low, but soft (accent flattened out to something generic.)]
Haven't you seen me before?