Charlotte pulled the quill away, examining her penmanship. The pretty scrawl was drying upon the tag she had fastened to an impeccable antique radio. The Wireless device would be a handsome addition to some Ministry higher-up’s study; thinking about others’ home decor was a quick way to stop fretting over her own. Planning the perfect house had been a late summer drama she did not want to repeat. And cleaning up after a break-in, well...

“Who donated the fainting sofa?” She asked, eyes roaming for Lia. She discovered the top of her diminutive friend’s head behind an armoire. Careful not to trail ink anywhere-- it was reflexive practice by now for the socialite with a lack of fixed career title and rather more permanent presence at charity galas like the one Lia was presently planning-- Charlotte glided past many high-end treasures, magical gadgets begging to be collected, and already-tagged items, in the director of the oversized period piece obscuring her friend. “I feel bad for the man who attempts to outbid me...” She was not kidding. Even so, she smiled, big eyes fluttering back to the sofa once more before she returned her gaze to Lia.

The pair of them had made up ages ago, after a nasty row concerning their differing tastes in men. Charlotte had not spoken quite as much of her love life since, perhaps, except here and there, to safely bemoan the burden of it. She was not exactly reserved with Lia, of course. She did not shy away from teasing the Ó Móráin woman about her suitors, either, prodding her in the direction of certain men, whispering cheekily, if not always quietly, about the the tailoring of certain garments and how Lia might take interest. She lifted a painted vase imbued with charms which prolonged the liveliness of freshly cut flowers. It was in need of a tag, like many items on the side of the room through which they were only just beginning to comb. It sometimes felt like the more they tagged, the less they had done. Of course, they were both accustomed to such grand productions and knew how to remain organized. It didn’t mean it wasn’t frazzling, overwhelming work at times. The gala would be one of the most talked about of the year, least of all because it would take place on New Year’s Eve.