Evie shot the man the briefest of smiles – just a quick upward flip of the corners of her mouth that even astute observers may have missed if they weren't looking for it. It was quick, but not insincere, and even once her features had returned to neutrality something about her openness may have suggested that she approved of his answer. She was still swaying gently, but only slightly, her body enjoying the music while her eyes took in the understated décor she was so wild about. She felt comfortable enough in this setting, even if it was far outside of the norm for her. She was not self conscious here, though others in her position may have felt strange when suddenly deposited in the middle of a society event. She'd been here before, if not in person. Books were good for that.

”Who is your aunt? Oh, forgive me my dear, I haven't even asked your name.”

“My name is Evelyn Grimlish, and my auntie is Ophelia Grimlish,” she responded simply, sweeping the room once more, on the off chance that her chaperone for the evening had stepped into view. “I've come as her guest, but I'm failing at my duties just now.” This didn't seem to concern her very much though, since she doubted Auntie Ophelia minded if she had a look around. She had all night to perfect the skill. Not seeing her auntie, she looked up at the man again. “Are you very important?” she asked him curiously, earnest in every way. He didn't look familiar, but you never could tell. Important people could be very interesting. For example, he could be a famous novelist – you never really knew what those looked like, unless they had a photograph at the back of the book, and even then it was sometimes hard to get a sense of them. He could be anything at all, in fact, or anyone! How wonderful!

There were brief, fleeting moments of her life in the United Kingdom when Ira would tensely consider how to deal with their Department of Magical Law Enforcement- as to underestimate an enemy was dangerous. This was not one of those moments.

"Auror Harcroft," she nodded once- coldly - at the wizard who had approached without the common sense of initiating an introduction. "Might I introduce to you Madame Knight and, as you already recognize, the Minister of Magic." They did not travel in the same circles as far as she could perceive.

Ira glanced into the crowds surrounding them to catch sight of her niece, flitting towards the main body of the Opera House, before turning back to her company with a thoughtful expression.

"It appears the theater doors have opened," she mused. "Rather miraculous, to be working ahead of our schedule. You must understand my meaning-" this directed at the two women so invested in their Ministry roles "- efficiency is rarer than expected, is it not?"

There was, not a tense moment, but an awkward one, with a man who apparently could not be bothered to introduce himself. At least their hostess knew enough to smooth over such an error, as Aisling had rather no idea of the man's identity. "Good to meet you, Auror Harcroft." She gave him a polite nod.

Almasy's words made Aisling shift her head to look towards the doors, then back towards the group. "Efficiency is, perhaps, rarer than one might wish. But I've found that it is often more difficult to remember than inefficiency, as well."

With the rush of people moving forward, it seemed as if she should rejoin Tarron. His knees had  been bothering him of late, and Aisling did not wish to be on her feet for too long either. "Please excuse me, but this means that I should find my husband. It has been a pleasure." She gave a deep curtsy, before making her way into the crowd.

Exit Aisling

Ira was their godsend, their Keeper of All Names, and immediately Persepolis recognized the name of Harcroft.  Two Aurors Harcroft had their names in recent history and what a pleasure it was to tag a name to a face.

"Auror Harcroft," the Minister said in a low voice.  "Thank you for your service.  Your accomplishments are indeed storied!"

But the time had come and at the opening of the doors and the prompting from Madam Almasy, the room bubbled and hummed into new action.  There was a new eagerness to the energy, the perfect timing.  The cocktails hadn't yet worn out their novelty, glasses were not quite empty, but it wasn't rushed. 

With a nod and a smile, she bid farewell to Knight, Harcroft and Almasy and soon an usher found her to take her to her place.

“My name is Evelyn Grimlish, and my auntie is Ophelia Grimlish,”

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Grimlish." Edwin replied, but the girl rambled on, rather other-worldly.

“I've come as her guest, but I'm failing at my duties just now. Are you very important?”

Edwin politely extended his hand, despite her young age, manners would not be avoided.

"Edwin Glass, Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. You could call me important, yes, but really I doubt many people would recognise me. I don't get my picture in the paper all that often in comparison to the aurors." He smiled at her in a friendly manner. "Not all the hard work mopping up catastrophes reaches the light of day." He added.

"Guest duties amongst adults can be so very tedious when one is younger, I wouldn't be so worried that you have strayed to admire the decorations. At least you didn't step on my foot in the process." Edwin was doing his best to be nice, though he had an inkling he could often appear ever so slightly creepy for this when he spoke to younger girls, pretty, younger girls.

"Are you still studying at Hogwarts, Miss Grimlish, or do you just keep a youthful appearance?"

Evie flashed the man, Mr. Glass, another ephemeral smile as a non-verbal bit of thanks for the kindness his own smile was affording her. “Important isn't the same as famous,” she remarked in response to his explanation of just who he was. She didn't seem to be attempting to correct him. It was just a candid observation, as if the distinction had just occurred to Evie herself. She took a thoughtful pause and then went on. “If you were doing your job incorrectly then we might all know who you were, but when you do it correctly then we don't have to. You're very important, and not at all infamous. That's very good.” Mr. Glass seemed like a good sort of person to know, she thought. It couldn't hurt to know the person in charge of dealing with catastrophes by name, now that she knew that there was someone in charge of catastrophes.  Up until now she'd been pretty sure that the only person in charge of catastrophes was her brother. “Thank you,” she added.

Are you still studying at Hogwarts, Miss Grimlish, or do you just keep a youthful appearance?”

Evie wasn't particularly attuned to the ways in which men complimented women, though she'd read so many books with romantic subplots that one would have thought she'd have picked something up by now. Had Mr. Glass been anywhere near her age then she may have detected the complimentary undertone, but it hadn't even begun to occur to her that someone older would be looking at her in that way. He didn't seem at all creepy to her. Then again, Evelyn's mother kept a coffin in her bedroom, and her auntie had brought a shrunken head as her date tonight, and those things didn't seem especially creepy to her, either. As a fear junkie, any degree of creepiness would only have drawn her to him more. Compared to the adults who regularly featured in her life, Mr. Glass was just too normal.

“Yes, I go back to school tomorrow. It seems too soon. I'd like a little more time at home,” she explained a touch longingly. The song the musicians were playing had come to an end, and they'd been quick to move on to the next piece, which had a haunting quality that gave her a chill. Her shoulders jerked in that sudden, involuntary way that couldn't be faked as she let the ambiance settle within her. “I believe it's going to be a late night tonight, but it's nice to fall asleep on the train. Deeper sleep yields deeper dreams. I hope I'll dream something worth writing down.”

“I believe it's going to be a late night tonight, but it's nice to fall asleep on the train. Deeper sleep yields deeper dreams. I hope I'll dream something worth writing down.”

Edwin took a sip of his drink, watching the girl intently. Though he did not know well that she was not of Grimlish blood, Evelyn certainly had a quality reminiscent of the family's quirks, between her gazing eyes and curiosity to speak of beauty and dreams with a stranger despite their visible differences of age, gender and experience. Young Grimlish had stopped him in his tracks, and for a teenager, she had him strangely captivated.

"If you can sleep on the Hogwarts Express, you have my admiration," Edwin replied, memories of the trip from his own childhood rising to the forefront of his mind. "Or is it much quieter than I recall?" He gave her a smile, agreeing with her on dreams.

"I never studied much of divination, but I trust those with it in my Department for their predictions. I find dreaming a good form of subconscious problem solving, that is, until you have the dream evaporate on waking, and you spend the day frustrated for being able to forget." His free hand mimicked a thought rising from his temple and then dispersing above his head and his eyes glanced to it and then back to the girl.

"Do you ever find that?" He asked his young companion. "Though music has that ability to inspire, rejoice and induce tears without speaking or having a face. Perhaps you will dream well tonight too? I do hope that the performers rather accelerate the process. Can't be doing with another Wagner Ring Cycle..."

“I can sleep anywhere,” Evelyn responded at once, and although nothing much changed about her outer visage, the quick and easy way she blurted that information out suggested that it was something she was proud of. “I've even fallen asleep on the knight bus before, during the daytime. They're very good about waking you when they arrive at your stop.” Compared to the turbulent, screechy, knight bus, the hogwarts express was a joy come nap time. There was something about moving vehicles, no matter how crowded, loud, or bumpy, that could rock her to sleep like nothing else – and when Evie slept, wherever she slept, she slept hard. “I do enjoy looking out the window, though. That's what I miss out on when I sleep.” All she could do was hope that her dreams were as fascinating as the scenery, if not more so.

”I never studied much of divination, but I trust those with it in my Department for their predictions. I find dreaming a good form of subconscious problem solving, that is, until you have the dream evaporate on waking, and you spend the day frustrated for being able to forget.”

“You can't let them sit,” she explained, having had much experience recording and contemplating her own dreams – and forgetting a few. “The trick is to record them right away, first thing, or simply tell somebody as many details as you can remember upon waking. Dreams aren't memories. If you want conscious memories, you have to acknowledge your subconscious thoughts with your conscious mind,” she went on. Although she spoke slowly, as she often did, and was carefully considering her words, they seemed to flow with a kind of ease – this was a subject she knew about. She went on. “It's like two rooms in a house, in a way. When you do something to one room, you wouldn't automatically expect anything to change in the next room, would you? But if you pick something up from the first room and bring it to the second, then you'll have it to meditate on, even when the door to the first room is closed and locked.”

”Though music has that ability to inspire, rejoice and induce tears without speaking or having a face. Perhaps you will dream well tonight too? I do hope that the performers rather accelerate the process. Can't be doing with another Wagner Ring Cycle...”

“Art takes time,” she responded simply. She knew a bit about that, too, though it took far fewer words to impart that particular idea. She wasn't a singer or a musician, but she'd spent enough time crouched over a pottery wheel until every muscle in her neck, back and arms was throbbing, and then spent a little more time – she knew what it could take. “Did you come for the performance or the company?”

This young lady had such insight into divination, and Edwin could follow her thoughts on dream and rooms.
"I see, grasp it before it fades away. Hm, sometimes I am reassured by their fleeting, but I may try that. Thank you." He nodded to her. Perhaps a journal would give him some sort of insight into what he had been dreaming, and what he might need to consider.

“Did you come for the performance or the company?”

"Duty," Edwin replied, choosing neither straight away. "One has to put in certain appearances in the social calendar, but otherwise a bit of both. I made the mistake of not recruiting a good lady to attend with me, but this enables me to move easily between the groups without feeling neglectful of my guest." His eyes were keenly engaged in surveying the groups as he explained, and then looked back to Grimlish.

"The opera is but the icing on the cake. Are you here for the art, and the decorations, Miss Grimlish? Or is there anyone you might want to meet here, who I might introduce your astute mind to?" He gestured with a gentle sweep of his arm to the floor.

Evie nodded a few quick times, her expression perfectly serious, as though she knew even the first thing about social calenders or putting in appearances. The only place she was ever really expected to be was in class, and she had the tendency to skip even that engagement on occasion. She liked people as a whole, but individually they could be rather exhausting at times, and sometimes it really felt as though sitting at a desk and occupying herself with someone else's topics of interest was too much to ask of her. In comparison, functions like these were hit or miss. She wasn't particularly overwhelmed here, but she also wasn't lonely. The ambiance wasn't so heavy, even with the formal dress and fancy venue. For a girl who seldom had a place to wear such a gown and rarely attended events outside of family dinners, she was comfortable here.

”Are you here for the art, and the decorations, Miss Grimlish? Or is there anyone you might want to meet here, who I might introduce your astute mind to?” 

“I'm here...” she began, pausing thoughtfully, “to spend some time out with my auntie before I return to school, but I do like the music, and I suppose it's a good thing I do.” This wasn't exactly what she'd call quality bonding time, but in her family home bonding time often looked like two people sitting in the same room reading separate books, so she couldn't act too surprised that her night out with Aunt Opie had turned into a chat with an important stranger. Almost everyone else in the building, apart from the few classmates she recognized, must have been important strangers, too. She swept the room with her eyes again. Who could be here that she'd like to meet? There could be any number of people, she supposed, but social networking was rarely an introvert's strongest suit. They room had begun to clear out when the doors to the house had opened, but that wasn't really any help. “I like interesting people,” she remarked slowly, “and kind people. I have an interest in unique projects, and I'd like to write books, but I'd also like to make things. Do you know anyone like that?”

OOC: As we're moving on with the evening, and other writers have departed, hopefully this will wrap up the interaction

“I like interesting people, and kind people. I have an interest in unique projects, and I'd like to write books, but I'd also like to make things. Do you know anyone like that?”

She was a curious girl indeed, but Edwin rather liked her. Evelyn had no qualms about speaking to him, and speaking openly about the subjects. He'd remember that name, perhaps see if he couldn't find her an opportunity in the Department, keen mind, intelligent. If she could sleep on the Hogwarts Express then she would be fine in a crisis, he imagined.

"Hmm," Edwin replied, looking thoughtfully about the room at the sea of faces. "Stick with me, Evelyn, I may just have a few ideas... and if you find them disinteresting, I'll point out your aunt and you can easily escape."

Choosing a direction, he led on.