The party's third day was so far much quieter than the previous two, though this likely had a lot to do with the fact it was mid morning when he turned up. He had plenty to do this afternoon, and couldn't stay past lunch; the plan was to show up, check on Dolly, eat and leave. 

But it still felt odd to be in...well, what he had that passed for black tie at 9am. Black tie was something he felt you were only supposed to don about the sun was down, unless it was a wedding. Or something - whatever the exact rules, it was probably simply due to the fact he'd never done it before to attend something so relatively casual that made it seem strange.

He wandered through the rows of tents, wondering how Dolly was doing. He was encouraged, in an odd sort of way, after their conversation the night before. If she was over Don for real - for the last time, truly - then she'd be able to find her own way. He knew he wasn't guaranteed to approve of whatever it was she chose to do; but he wanted her to chose based on what she wanted, not some odd ideal of what she was supposed to do.

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he moved aside to allow several others to pass by on the walkway, coming close to one of the tents set up near the pavilion itself. His train of thought was rather thoroughly disrupted when a hand emerged from the tent flap and grabbed him by the tie and lapel, pulling him within.

After the bright sun outside, the falling of the flap behind Tappy was a plunge into dim red darkness. Like the best wizarding efforts, the space within was larger on the inside than it'd seemed on the out. Swathes of rich fabric blanketed the interior, a neat illusion to conceal the real walls of the tent. There were tables, soft pillows, two black couches intended to double as beds. Lamps hung with beading burned with a low golden light. A number of bags and boxes lurked in a corner half-covered with a curtain, and a suitcase had apparently exploded all over a velvet chair. The bright colors and lush fabrics of those garments as they had folded themselves precariously on the edge of the cushions looked familiar. Hardly would Tappy's eyes have adjusted was the interior brightened, as the owner of those distinctive suits pulled the heavy curtains away from the concealed windows. Bands of sunlight cut through the dizzy red boudoir impression, picking out the dust motes in the thick braided carpet.

Darian wore a smoking jacket of rich black-and-gold brocade, sleeves gaping wide around his wrists, waist belted, collar stiff. A pair of black trousers in some loose, slinky material swung around his bare ankles. They looked soft relative to the embroidery of his jacket, something to sleep in and not to wear out.

"Tapendra!" he cried, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "How good of you to stop in." He grinned like a loon. "Can I tempt you to some grapes?" Indeed, there sat on the low table a bowl of them. A silver tea service steamed there happily too, beside a series of small colorful cups. Without the slightest compunction and without looking away from his new companion Darian nudged a heavy green glass bottle under the couch with one foot.

The tent's inside was beautifully - one could even say decadently - decorated, the style of the place radiating from every embroidered shawl to even the tiniest of beads. Disoriented as he was, Tapendra did not have to wait to see the redhead bounce towards him to guess at the tent's owner. There was only one person he knew whose possessions took on that much of their owner's personality.

He coughed, adjusting his tie and looking around again before he looked at Darian. The man was, as always, dressed head to toe in wonderful clothing, even the casual appearance of the lounge pants and smoking jacket seeming deliberate and ...enticing?

No, not enticing- definitely not enticing! - another word. He'd find one. It - it'd come to him, he was sure.

"Err - Good morning," he said, smiling quickly and turning his thoughts to Darian himself rather than any momentary struggles of termology. He decided not to wonder about how stopping in was a definition of getting pulled into the tent. "Grapes would be lovely," he added, taking the few steps to the tea service and not seeing the nudge of the bottle. "This party is going well by you then, I take it?"

Darian beamed. Progress! A few months ago, Tappy would not have touched his grapes. He could have danced with glee, and perhaps his heels as he threw himself down on one of the couches may well have clicked together. Tappy had not even questioned his capture, beautiful, beautiful, he was breaking him in. Acceptance was the key to a very bright future.

He waved for Tappy to join him, fingers studded with rings. He'd slept in them and a few bangles, and with the flick of his eyes he noted silently where the latter had left their faint indentations in his wrists.

"Yes, absolutely," he said. "I've had a smashing good time. Did you know they rented dancing hippogriffs on the second day? But the Wiedman boy forgot to pay the man so we never got to see the Hippogriff Hop. Wizards these days. So lazy."

He poured tea for both of them, though Tappy had not asked and nor did he. A silver bowl held sugar; a silver pitcher held cream. Both were revealed when he removed the silk lampshade that had been placed over them to hide them from view. It was a light-colored oriental tea and he closed his eyes in pleasure at the fragrant jasmine scent, fingers curling round his cup to hold it to his lips. He cracked one eye open again, mouth creasing in a smile.

"You look nice. I like those shoes."

Ye gods, Darian was indeed rather chipper this morning. The man all but bounced about the tent - or at least it felt that way. He wondered offhandedly if he'd been on drugs the previous night, or was on them now - such hobbies were hardly above the designer, Tapendra knew. But...no. He mostly just seemed energetic.

He smiled. Energetic, he could handle, and usually rather liked.

He sat on the couch opposite Darian, knees instantly rather high in the air as the low couch made his height appear even more awkward than it already was. Normally, he'd have happily sat lotus and removed his shoes, but at such an occasion that hardly seemed the done thing.

"Did they really? A shame he didn't pay, then. That'd have been quite the show," he said with a soft laugh, picking up a teacup himself and adding more sugar than most would, the cream a good extra. He sipped, raising his eyebrows. The stuff was quite good, he'd admit. Of course, the cup immediately fogged up his glasses.

That was alright, as fussing with them almost hid the look of surprise and the flush that followed Darian's comment. He never looked nice; he just wore clothes and hoped they didn't offend anyone. For all the pricetags on the suits from Darian had, he didn't feel that different when he wore them. More comfortable, certainly...

"Really? Err, thanks," he said, smiling rather hopefully, which gave away rather more than he'd intended. "I'm rather under dressed by this party's standards, it seems. Is this tent yours?" The change in subject was sudden, and his gaze shot to the wide expanse around them.

"You're telling me."

Darian, not being dressed himself, felt no such compunctions about posture. He quickly folded his legs beneath him, the loose fabric of his trousers allowing him the flexibility to bend and stretch and rearrange his limbs as he pleased. His hands - when not occupied with his tea - rested nicely on his legs. And he held this attentive position for nearly a minute, head tilted in Tappy's direction, eyes wide and focused, fetchingly poised, before he had to move again restlessly, fingers tracing the soft skin of his anklebone, the vulnerable flesh of his heel.

"Oh, no. You're perfect." He watched Tappy's lingering flush, thankful for the sunlight which lit his dusky skin at just the right shade. "You're more dressed than me. It's so early, no one worth their wine will be out before 11. This was the tent assigned to me. The decorations, terrifically, are someone else's doing."

Darian shifted position and watched him - a gaze Tapendra almost instinctively fidgeted under. There was something about the intensity of that gaze that made it hard to just sit there - admittedly, he could be imagining it. It wasn't as if -

And then Darian spoke and Tapendra was lucky not to drop the tea. He looked at Darian in undignified, bug-eyed surprise, blue eyes wide open for several moments before he quickly found his tea very interesting. When he spoke, it was with a soft laugh.

"The drink must be holding over from last night," he said, jokingly. "You've got me mistaken with someone else." It was barely said, the words soft and spoken mostly into his tea cup. He sipped at the tea, looking around the tent again, trying to will the flush to fade. He didn't have much luck.

"Really? The decorations are very, um..." He tried to find the right word and gave in. "They're very you."

"Tapendra!" Darian swatted at him, all animation suddenly rising from the couch. "Stop that! You are long and lean and broad-shouldered and delicious. I can tell when your measurements have changed, you know, this - " he fingered Tappy's sleeve, half-crawling on the other man's settee - "is getting a little tight." He laughed, wild and free. Someone was working out.

It wouldn't do to completely break Tappy of his bashfulness, because it was adorable and the only one allowed to have an over-inflated ego here was he. But yes this, something this obvious had to be disabused. Tappy could not be allowed to look down at his tea and doubt that Darian wouldn't just love to tie him to a bed and lick him all over.

"How many beautiful people do you think I've seen?" he asked, looking up at Tappy with curious intent. "Come on, give me an answer, give me - " the snap of his fingers - "a number. Round."

He laughed again. "Well, okay. They're mostly someone else's doing. The theme is universal. Note the black-out curtains for early morning lie-ins, the bottles of medicinal potions, the uncomplicated beds. A lot of planning went into these. I have to applaud the hostess for her forward thinking."

This time tea did spill over the cup's sides as Tapendra jumped in surprise. It was one thing for Darian to raise his voice, but yet another to surge towards him, all flowing curls and energetic indignation. The hot liquid falling onto his knee and thigh made him yelp, and he set the cup down quickly - only to look up and find Darian on the low couch with him.

The words the man used made any attempt to halt the blush useless, as Tapendra stared at him in what was best described as horror. He'd forgotten that Darian was...was like this, sometimes. Perhaps with was alcohol fueling it, or was it - no, that wasn't -

He leaned backwards and sideways, automatically raising and putting his knees between them, deer-in-the-headlights expression turning to the tug on his sleeve in confusion, the confusion only worsened by the odd, pleasurable shock of the touch. The laugh helped, however. Darian was obviously teasing him. Of course! That made sense!

"Um. A thousand?" He suggested, the suggestion more of a hopeful question than anything else. He scooted a bit further away from Darian, attempting to hide the gesture as him getting comfortable against the throw pillows. He rubbed his upper arm where Darian had grabbed his sleeve. It didn't feel all that different to him.

He was perfectly happy to lounge now like a cat on his stomach mid-way between the two couches, legs draped over his own, propped up by his elbows on the other. Tappy's slow inching away neither escaped nor dissuaded him. "Oh, look at that." Darian surveyed Tappy's wet thigh. "You've spilled your tea. Wipe it off with a throw pillow, there's a lad."

What an unexpectedly entertaining way to spend his morning. The awkward way the other man arranged himself awkwardly amongst the pillows was better than any professionally-mixed mimosa.

"A thousand beautiful people!" Darian held up a ringed finger in triumph. "What a lot of credit you give me! Hm, maybe more. But right here and now, Tapendra, you are the best-looking one of them all." He winked.

Tapendra looked at him skeptically, reaching carefully into his breast pocket - carefully, as if he'd have need of both his hands at a moment's notice. "I've, err - I have a handkerchief," he said, withdrawing the carefully folded piece of silk. Cleaning tea wasn't technically what the piece of fabric was for, he knew, but he wasn't going to stain a throw pillow.

"You can't call me lad," he added, with the grumble of the defeated. "'m older than you." Well, he was! Even if sometimes it didn't feel that way. Darian made him feel like his teenaged self again, and he wasn't sure he liked that. His teenage self had been awkward, shy, unsure of himself and definitely in over his head when it came to...to...

So he hadn't changed much in the ensuring decade, had he?. Bollocks.

He looked over at Darian, and as much as the last comment was...well, flattering, he laughed instead, relieved to know the man was just teasing him. "Hah! Yes, with all the competition about, I positively shine," he said, shaking his head as he wiped off his trouser leg. "If Dolly comes through that door - or, well, flap - then I'd be lucky to place higher than the bloody lampshade."

Somehow getting into a no-I'm-not-yes-you-are fight with Darian wasn't the best idea, so he quickly sought for another topic. "I'm surprised you could be here the whole time. Doesn't the holiday season keep you busy?"

"You also have a wand," Darian said, amused. He levered himself up and went back to the teapot, pouring Tappy another cup as his host-of-the-tent and also reason-of-spilling duty. Now that he'd seen it once he knew how much to add of the sugar and cream and he did so, though it pained him to add cream to such a light tea.

Tappy was absolutely the most beautiful person here now. But then, he was also the only person here now. So yes, he'd cottoned on rather quickly to that.
 
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" he asked, smiling as he passed the professor his new cup. "I could go on about your eyes for a bit, if you liked. Wouldn't want you to feel relegated to lampshade status."

Now he settled back again on his own couch, now he threw his head dramatically against the back of it and his arms out to the side. "If I had to rush-order one more double-sized ball gown, I was going to die," Darian announced. "I needed a break. People keep commissioning me for women's clothing. Why, I ask you? Don't they know how much effort that is? Misa is handling it until tomorrow morning, at any rate."

Tapendra twitched guiltily at the mention of his wand, halfway through refolding the handkerchief so that the slight stains from the tea didn't show. The new cup of tea was welcome, and he nodded gratefully for it - trying to calm himself after the rather...odd turn of events this had taken.

He snorted at Darian's jest, shaking his head. "Please don't," he said, and while he was joking a bit to dispel his caution, the request was genuine. He wasn't sure he could take much more of that...whatever it was. Joking or not, compliments and..flattery...tended to make him want to crawl under something and die. In a good way, he supposed. But he got them rarely enough he was never sure how to respond to them.

"I thought you did mostly men's clothing," he said, furrowing his brows in confusion. "People keep ordering ball gowns anyway? Did you even advertise you do that?" He shook his head, sipping the tea - which really was rather good. Wasn't sure cream was the thing with it, but...

"But - somehow a three day party does seem relaxing after sewing battleship-like-dresses, yes," he said, reaching for the grapes. "Even one like this, I suppose. Enjoying the crowd's diversity?"

"Tapendraaaa... " he crooned, waggling a finger carelessly all curled up in the cushions. He tipped his head, letting his hair curl over the sofa back, and smiled a low crushing smile. Naughty, naughty. "You'll have to learn to take a compliimeeent one of these days...."

What a silly man Tapendra was. It almost made him sad. Someone who couldn't take compliments was living a half-life, he really was. What a terrible waste of magnificent potential! He could have had so much more if he only knew what to do with himself, and Tappy was probably one of those people who would never learn. Darian certainly wasn't going to teach him - no, sir - for what profit him to lose such an advantage? But he would tease him, yes, that was no question at all.

Darian let his head fall back against the cushions again. "Oh, who needs advertising when I'm so magnificent," he said with a dramatic, put-upon sigh. "Everyone knows my gowns, and knows I'll do women's clothing by commission. Of course I won't turn down anyone who can pay. That's bad business. So I'm afraid my commitments do really pile up...."

"Enjoying the crowd's diversity?"

"Am I ever," he said, a certain dark twist to his lips that spoke of immense satisfaction. He gave Tappy the bedroom eyes, smoky and sleep-smudged, though he knew the other man would have picked up on it with just the little hint and so there wasn't much effort. Some things were only expected. This cheerful flirtation to Darian was like a handshake and introduction to another man. "Not seen enough of Dolly, though. She was dreadfully late the first night and all up in arms since over that Wiedman twat. Anyone could have predicted that. But you know I've met the most unexpected people, including some of your colleagues! Yes, it certainly has been just the sort of weekend I needed before I put my nose to the grindstone again."

Despite his bright mind and alert eyes there was that lingering ache in his body, a good ache, the kind that spoke to pleasurable excess. He was in no hurry this morning. In fact if his mind stopped whirling he could probably even go back to sleep. Oh, but Darian wanted human touch, he always craved affection. He wanted to stretch and lounge and insinuate himself just up under Tappy's arm, against his side, impersonal and demanding as a cat. But Tappy didn't seem the type to let him cuddle. Such a shame. Darian yawned now, thinking of it; perhaps he and Dolly could laze about together later if he managed to steal the birthday girl away, carding fingers through each other's hair following other nice pursuits. Mmm. Yes.

Darian's half-drunk sounding reprimand just earned a very slight but amused roll of the eyes from Tapendra, who busied himself finding out if these grapes were really all that Darian had made them out to be. It turned out they were, and so he was rather happy to break off a sprig of them. "I can take compliments," he muttered, but it was a defeated lie. He knew he couldn't. He liked them well enough, but never knew what to do in response. Especially ones along the lines Darian and Dolly made. Ones that implied...implied, well...

Thankfully Darian's dramatic sigh was enough to make him snort in amusement. "One could argue that that is advertising, you realize. Just...not very specific advertising." Darian didn't tend to wear his own ball gowns, Tapendra assumed. Unless he had a nightlife quite beyond the one Tapendra had already seen. "Though if anyone could use charm to silently advertise exactly what they make, I suspect it's you."

Darian's bedroom eyes just meant Tapendra focused on the grapes again. Thankfully the man's response made Tapendra smile a bit, shaking his head. "That's always the case for me," he said, tossing a grape into his mouth as he sat back on the couch. "The not seeing enough of her, I mean. And being up in arms over the Wiedman twat. I'm hoping it stays that way, this time." As much as he loved the woman, she did tend to be indecisive on Wiedman, but their conversation the night before had given him hope.

"My colleagues? Who else is here that you hadn't met?" He'd spotted Kesali and avoided him, but hadn't spied any of the others amoungst the crowd. It had been a little disappointing, actually; they'd have functioned like an island he could hang onto in the crowd of unfamiliar faces. "I can't see most of them turning up for this sort of thing, honestly. I assume Miss Bildaeu-Yukawa is about, but..."