Arianne took a deep calming breath, feeling for reasons only Morgana knew, quite nervous and rearranged the rose in her lapel one last time before finally climbing the stairs to the Le Masque's grand stage. Once in mid center, with the spotlight illuminating her, she plastered a most charming smile—albeit rather uncomfortable with the fake mustache in the way. She immediately noticed the new guests by the stock masks[1] Alanna was handing at the reception and for a moment she wondered whether opening Le M to the public had been a good idea or not. Well, at this point, she could only hope for the best.

"Ladies, gentleman and other creatures of the night, bonne soir" she said slowly, each word rolling gracefully off her tongue. "I know I'm not whom you would normally expect to see on stage, but for those of you that have been with us for a while, I trust you know who I am, and I am thoroughly grateful for your patience in the reopening of the venue and even more so for your continued patronage, despite the departure of my dear cousin" she continued fondly, and as warmly as she could muster. "For those of you that have passed our grand entrance for the first time today, I bid you a most warm welcome, congratulate you for finding us - for not many do - and ask for you patience while you familiarize yourself with our establishment and its rules" she addressed those not in costume and seemingly confused or a little uncomfortable. Little lambs, her cousin would call them.

"My name is Arianne Desrosiers and I am the new Proprietor of Le Masquerade, as well as your host for the evening. And any other evening for that matter" she chucked softly, and gave a cheeky little wink. "I welcome you to the first Saturday A la Theme under its new patronage, and hope it shall be only the first of many" she bowed respectfully, the masculine way to fit her ensemble, and took another shuddering breath. Merlin, the nerves! "However, tonight alone you me address me as Arian, for Le Masque is excited to present you the most intriguing A la Theme yet—" she paused for effect and smirked impishly. "You know you've hit rock-bottom when even drag's a drag" she ended with a flourished hand gesture and a smirk.

"Your sister's make-up, your grandmother's brooch or maybe your wife's garter" she arched her eyebrow and smiled cryptically "—tonight, gentlemen, you donned them for our amusement. While ladies, I see suspenders, bowties, suits, elegant leather shoes and even a fedora. My, my, if only our men dressed like this every day, mais non?" she laughed charmingly, but inside she felt her heart rabbiting. God, how had Éloi done it? "For our first timers, rest assured, we welcome you all the same, costume or not[2]. But we hope, next time you'll join in the fun.

"Tonight's special cocktails, courtesy of our very own Blaise" she said, gracefully extending her hand towards the bar at the back of the Grand Hall, where the Head Bartender offered a small bow with a bright, cocky smile "—serve to aid you with tonight's party, as well as that little bit of daze, hmm? The Rebel Queen ought to give you that last feminine kick to complete your outfit, gentlemen, while The Angry Inch is sure to  give the ladies just a tiny bit of—Well. Inch" she said airy, with a smirk and a low chuckle. "The buffet table near the bar, is filled with exquisite French cuisine, provided by our very own five star Chef. Our bar is stocked to suit all tastes and the music—we hope it will get you on the dance floor, only to then lure you to a dimly lit private room[3] after you're all danced out" she announced politely no trace of mischief in her voice. The new guests were sure in for a rather tasty surprise.

"Well, that should  about cover it all. I hope you'll find the new Le Masquerade not much changed under my guidance and continue your patronage. And to the rest of you, I hope you will return again and again" she was sure the nervousness could be heard in her tone now. Just what was wrong with her? "Please enjoy the party, and remember that this is a safe haven for les enfants terribles, a place to let your true self bloom and let your inner libertine free. And tonight you get to don once more your mother's pearls or your father's tie—oh, shush, don't deny it" she  waved her hand, jokingly affronted "—and how could this not be the most delicious of experiences?"

She took a few steps forward, blowing a kiss to the crowd and smiled brightly. "Thank you for your time[4]!" And with a long sigh and slight roll of her eyes, she ended in true Éloi style, hoping at least the old clients would appreciate it. "May the debauchery begin" she said, taking a stiff bow and getting the hell off the stage. The drama would need to be cut in half if this was going to work.

1.	Please refer to the venue's Code of Conduct for further information about how the club operates.
2.	As stated in the above mentioned Code of Conduct, it is not mandatory that you wear a costume. However, semi-formal or formal attire still applies.
3.	Feel free to thread your smaller, more intimate parties in the main board. Make sure to date them correctly!
4.	This speech starts at 9PM, however admittance to the venue started at 6PM

"Stop grinning!"
"I'm sorry, it's not every day I get to see you like this…"
"I wish this place was still private, and I hadn't introduced you to it."
"I certainly don't…!"

He was tall enough on a normal day, but in a pair of magically enlarged heels that belonged to his distant cousin, he was a good couple of inches taller than usual[1], and she a couple of inches shorter than she'd be on the average evening out - dressed in one of his oldest suits, which he didn't mind not seeing back, so she'd gone to work with wand and what she could to make it look like it was for her height and not his[2].

"Cheer up sweetheart," Elixa told him sarcastically and slapped him heartily on the backside over her enlarged now-not-so-little-black-dress that she'd keep for the fact she wanted to see Johann don it again, if he lost any bets, got rat arsed enough etc. He gave a jolt at the action, not expecting it (or expecting to enjoy it in any form either). This dress wasn't long enough, but he wasn't good enough with his wand after a drink to try and lengthen it. He wasn't one to wear shorts, and this felt rather like wearing them, only with the possibility if he sat down he'd accidentally risk showing a buttock or more.

"I'm really starting to appreciate feminism," Johann retorted, scowling at his companion by his elbow. He was under instructions to leave well alone if she happened to snag a good looking man, woman, centaur or half-literate beast in suit or dress, whatever it ended up. Johann's romantic companion wasn't really in the market for these sorts of evenings, and he was only hoping that evidence of him in a dress didn't get back to him, though Elixa would probably ensure it did - he was going to be sleeping on their sofa that night rather than traipsing back to Godric's Hollow in his attire. Diagon Alley was a lot closer.

"Is this all it took?" Elixa asked, splaying her arms at his appearance, and tutting. He pouted in return, taking a large gulp of his cocktail which gave a bit of a bitter taste in the back of his mouth. He'd left lipstick on the glass, heck, why did women wear it?

"Ugh, come on, let's find someone who can have a good laugh at me." Johann sighed, heading into the throng, depositing his finished cocktail on a nearby ledge while trying to remember to take shorter strides in heels. One hand reached up to check his wig hadn't slipped, but it seemed Elixa had done a fine job with the sticking charm, to the point he suspected it might not come off for a few days.

1.	Johann's Outfit
2.	Elixa's outfit

All Claire needed to hear was the word 'costumes' and she was in. Once she was informed of more details, like 'alcohol' and 'club opening,' she was even more 'in,' if that was possible. Her wardrobe already offered her many options for a costume, but for this occasion she decided to actually go shopping. She had something specific in mind.

Since she wasn't sure who was coming or what was going to happen, to ensure that she had a good time, Claire decided that she would be a party. She got the poofiest dress she could tolerate wearing (why did that fabric have to be so itchy?!), super-glittery heels that she charmed to sparkle, balloons, suspenders, and a cardboard box to begin concocting her costume. She cut a hole in the cardboard box big enough for her to fit through, also cutting the bottom off, threw a tablecloth over it (cutting another hole for her body) and then decorated it.

Boom. She was a walking party.

She knew that Knockturn Alley might not provide the best audience for her costume, but she was hoping at least someone would appreciate it. Despite all the frill, of course... even Claire could admit she was looking really girly right now. She was already questioning the skinny high heels. This night could be a disaster, but luckily Claire also attached small bottles of alcohol to her little table. It was a party, right?

Lucrezia had successfully managed - albeit, not easily - to so far avoid her reluctant friend's favorite venue and business interest. But ever since her little deviant of a cousin had skedaddled off to whatever hell hole slash opium den of the 1800's he had crawled out of, said avoidance had been proving less and less easy to achieve. And because Ezia was the bigger person  here and, truthfully, she did not possess the ability to sustain Arianne's pestering for too long, she eventually relented to attend the grand opening.

That was until the blonde shrew had gleefully informed her of the theme of the party. Then she'd demanded a bribe. She was rather happy with the results of their negotiation. So that is how, Lucrezia Di Luca, professor of a highly placed educational institution and terror of students everywhere, found herself in not only what was probably one of the most dubiously moral locations in the entirety of London, but also wearing trousers and a waistcoat. The only reason she'd acquiesced even with the bribe, was the fact that she could hide her identity under her mask. It was also rather surreal.

She had been instructed to await the host with a glass of the strongest liquor her... rather fetching head bartender could provide. So with a glass that quite honestly smelled as instant death to one's liver, Ezia was making her way across the ostentatiously decorated hall, throwing a reluctant pardon or glaring watch your elbows as she moved gracefully through the crowd. In a moment of inattention some rather unfortunate sized woman cut her path and she found herself halting unexpectedly, the only thing stopping the glass and its vile contents of spilling everywhere being her quick reflexes and wand instincts.

"Pardon me, madam" she barked impatiently, glaring holes into the back of the woman. "Or—sir?" she found herself frowning at taking in the person in front of her more carefully. This party is a trap, she found her mind deciding right then and there.

"There you are! My drink, Ezia, tout de suite" came the irritating voice of the reason she was caught in this entire charade. She extended the hand with the glass absently towards the French woman and tilted her head curiously to examine the man-woman. A sigh of relief came loudly from Arianne as she downed over half the contents of the glass and Ezia wondered for the hundredth time if her liver did not have some sort of fascinating rejuvenation abilities. "Madame" she addressed the man with that ridiculous poised smile of hers, taking a masculine bow and then— "Monsieur" she turned towards the... that was obviously a woman, and extended her hand in greeting.[1]

"You're ridiculous" she dead-panned eventually, shaking her head at the nonsense around. "I'm not the only one wearing a suit, Ezia" she drawled practically gloating. Lucrezia rolled her eyes and pulled a glass out of the tray of some walking waitress, muttering about her misfortune and her lack of luck in forming friendships. "How long do I have to be here?" she gritted through her teeth as Arianne merely smiled charmingly and ignored her in favor of questioning her patrons about their having a good time yet or not.

1.	Johann and Elixa

Balfour was showing a touch more chest hair than was the norm, this evening. Or head hair for that matter - he brushed a dark lock from his face as one of the bar-hands slid across what was hopefully an extremely effective cocktail. Witches and wizards bumbled about in large throngs, clothed in ostentatious attire and the mirth that came with ridicule. It was so crowded in Le Masquerade that he hoped his appearance might be altogether overlooked.

Few would expect to see the Head of the Beasts Division dressed in heels and a frock. He wore sunglasses over a black mask, as if to further obfuscate his identity.

"You look positively miserable." Stood facing the throngs with her long legs crossed confidently, Ira Almasy gave him a sidelong glance. She drew breath through a black cigarette and smiled wolfishly, stretching a lanky arm along the bar. The woman wore her ensemble better than he could on a good day.

Why even lie? She wore it better, period. "I am positively miserable. This isn't my preferred form of entertainment ." Balfour turned away from the wall of liquor bottles to join his confidant in an appraisal of the floor. He couldn't recognize anyone, obviously. Maybe it would make the whole affair easier if he did. "Also, your dress is quite... revealing. Do you really wear this? It's almost obscene really."

Ira turned that sharpened grin on to him, fully, as if though the plunging neckline were the least of their troubles. He was both pleased and terrified to be privy to her felicity. "I suppose that makes you obscene, doesn't it?" she studied him superiorly from behind her mesh mask. "I've caught sight of an acquaintance. Try not to drink yourself to death, friend."  Wise words on deaf ears.

Balfour couldn't help but lower his gaze as she leaned in, a butterfly's kiss against his cheek as Ira handed him her cigarette. He could almost taste her perfume underneath the smoke: heavy, spicy Oud and an undertone of flowers that only grew in a small garden outside of the Sergiev Posad.

But then she was gone, striking figure hidden by the undulating mass of patrons. Le Masquerade was a brilliant place to lose a companion - and hopefully to find one as well, now that his friend had abandoned him. Balfour breathed in deeply,  like a man coming out of water. Alternatively he could just get very, very drunk.

The bartender slid over another glass.

This was a strange night. It had been a strange couple of days, really.

Last night she had gone out with other people, a notion that was particularly shocking because it was in reference to Jules Deville. Having spent her youth studying incessantly (with a touch of brown-nosing and family drama), Jules was now starting to feel the desire to go out and be social. It was a very odd new sensation, but having just reached her career goal, she allowed herself the chance to let loose. A few of the other people she'd been with last night had invited her to some event at La Masquerade, a place in Knockturn Alley that she could honestly say she'd never been to. They informed her of all the details of the party, and in her drunken state, she had agreed to go.

She might not admit it to anyone, but she had a bit of fun picking out the clothes she needed to wear. It was nice to mix things up and not just throw on the jauntiest dress she could find. Jules did her best to look masculine, even taking the time to style her hair into a pouf. She had a bowtie choker and a mask that reminded her of Medusa. Once her outfit was ready, she was all set.

Jules arrived at La Masquerade wishing that she had a friend to arrive with her. It was always awkward, showing up at parties and events by yourself. That was the point of tonight though, wasn't it? At least somewhat? Jules sauntered confidently into the party having decided that she would do the best she could. Fake it 'till you make it, she'd always believed. It had gotten her this far.

One of the first things Jules noticed was the spectrum of costumes. They ranged from stylish, avant-garde pieces to ones that looked grungy and thrown together. Jules discretely looked around for a familiar face, cursing her deficiency for remembering names. Instead of trying to look any longer, she headed to the bar with the hopes that maybe the bartender would be her friend for the night, at least. Jules planned on dropping many galleons at the bar tonight anyway.

As soon as Arianne seemed adequately distracted by her social and professional obligations, Ezia slunk into the masses behind them and once out of her blonde captor's sight, she took immediately for the bar, stomping and practically huffing. Sometimes, but only sometimes, Lucrezia was sure her friend was a prime candidate for natural deselection. But then she remembered how easily her will was bent at the request of the woman and swiftly pushed that thought at the back of her mind.

Making a beeline for one thankfully empty bar stool, Lucrezia glared at some unfortunate individual that was just about to head the same way, letting it be known that she would get that chair at any cost. The woman - or man; by this point nothing was sure anymore - retreated with a grave nod and Ezia returned it grudgingly. Climbing up on the high chair, Lucrezia took a moment to sigh deeply, one hand seeking her forehead under the hat to straighten her frown.

Once the head bartender had raised his eyebrows expectantly, a cocky smile at the corner of his lips, Ezia relaxed minutely and let out a little amused huff. "Blaise—was it?" she asked crossing her legs and leaning her elbow on the counter. At his amused nod and jut of his chin as if to ask what of it, her lips quirked at the corner and she shook her head a little. "Well, Blaise, I'll have your strongest whiskey. And you can leave the bottle" she continued more  gravely, lowering her head to squint her eyes at him, daring him to not comply. Blaise simply snorted and set about retrieving the bottle.

"If I have to endure this, I certainly won't be sober for it" she muttered miserably, leaning her head in her hand with a long sigh. Once her glass was full, she inclined her head gratefully and swung on the chair to face the floor. She was again frowning displeased under her mask, but with a roll of her eyes she decided she might at least make the best of it. Turning to the woma—no, man[1], next to her, who looked just about as pleased to be here as she was, Ezia was about to offer her glass in cheers, but she found her mouth remaining open and her hand in the air.

If she'd been confused before, this was taking it an entirely different level. Upon closer look, there was something strangely fascinating about him. She wouldn't go as far as to call it a revelation of any kind, but she'd certainly been taken by surprise. There was also something familiar there... Regardless, she extended her glass and curled her lips into a semblance of a smile. "Misery loves company?"

1.

Balfour

It seemed this evening two women, one prominent, the other climbing her way out of the funk of her former employer going home, had raided once more their families' wardrobes. Gabrielle had opted for airing out the business robes and suit that she remembered Alan wearing many years ago, hiding her face behind a mock crackled porcelain mask whereas Addie was dressed looking like something out of a turn of the century Irish mob man. The suspenders laid across her back in a 'x' formation, the cabbie hat covering her blonde hair and a dark mask to illuminate solely her eyes.

Addie was patrolling the area, ensuring the customers were happy or keeping happy, before continuing on to watch the sorrid affairs atop the staircase nearby. A soft smile was there; she was clearly going to miss him, but his cousin was doing a hell of a job in the takeover so far.

As for Gabrielle, she, rather, he - a chuckle escaped in that thought - sat near the bar at one of the tables, lit by the dim candles that gave off its illumination. Its flicker danced across the face of the very woman who had taken seemingly forever to get herself into Le Masque. And now....here she was, sitting. Drink, monsieur? Looking to the waiter dressed impeccably well as a woman, she smirked. "Your finest Fireball. That is, if you alll make them here; equal Ogden, firewhiskey and don't skimp," Gabrielle ordered before nodding, sending the waiter away.

---

Gabrielle and Addie are being combined, so you know~ ^^

Men definitely had it easy with their suits, Elixa reckoned, as they ran into what sounded to be Arianne and Ezia from the previous night when Elixa had been in the Rover's Return.

"Evening!" She greeted brightly, negotiating round a girl (well, from the stature) dressed as a .. was that a walking party?

"You're ridiculous." Elixa laughed at the comment.

But the throngs of people meant that they were soon passed by and perhaps they would catch them up again later.

Above her, Johann's eyes had picked out a familiar figure at a table near to the bar, and his fingertips caught Elixa's shoulder a moment as he conveyed the fact. The two of them split, Elixa heading to the bar, Johann away to the table, trying not to fall over his heels.

She ran into the walking party again on the way to the bar - quite literally - her arms reached out to stop her from upsetting the rather elaborate costume - not familiar with Claire who was beneath it.

"Sorry!" She apologised, "that's quite a costume, been hard to miss you." She grinned beneath her silver mask, her long black curls gently falling over her shoulders over the pinstripe suit.

"I was gonna get a drink, you should come tell me all about it."

Without giving the witch a chance to confirm either way, she stepped round and headed to the gap in the bar that so happened to be beside Jules, though Elixa didn't realise at first who it was - owing to the cross dressing and the masks.

It was to Elixa's advantage tonight, that she didn't mind chatting to anyone while on the pull - man, woman, centaur… well she'd draw the line at goblin possibly… they were all game.

As Johann split from Elixa, he suspected they might run into each other again later, but Elixa might have someone, or two on her arm. Johann wasn't here to seek out someone to share a bed with, or to have some fun teasing, he was just there to enjoy a night.

"Good golly," he exclaimed, putting on a silly higher-pitched voice as he neared the table, and extended a hand to between Gabrielle's shoulder-blades before swinging as gracefully as he could into the next door seat, his hand still lingering on her back,
"Fancy sitting here all alone." He continued before he started to laugh at himself.

"Merlin have you seen what Elixa's dressed me in. Save me."

Shortly after arriving at Le Masquerade, Claire realized that her costume was a bit different than the others. She had been confused at first, mistaking a few guys for girls and vice versa as she made her way through the people. In her hungover state, it was very possible that Claire had read the invitation way too quickly. This was not, as she had believed, just a simple costume party. This was a themed costume party. Oh.

Shrugging off her mistake, Claire plucked one of her miniature whiskeys off of the table and downed it in the blink of an eye. Right after she'd finished, a curly-haired woman -- or, she was pretty confident that it was a woman, but this party was a little complicated. She said that she was going to get a drink and wanted to hear about the costume. Before Claire could respond (some whiskey was still in her throat), the woman had taken off through the crowd. Better to be with company in a silly costume rather than by yourself. Convincing strangers that you had friends was a good way of suppressing the idea that you were insane.

She got to the bar and ordered herself a whiskey on the rocks and then found the black-haired woman (as a man) again. The box she was in caused Claire to waddle a bit and she also bumped into a few people who quickly became disgruntled. Claire ignored their indignant responses and sipped on her whiskey.

The witch next to him, having requested an entire bottle of whiskey to be left for consumption, had the right idea.

Balfour leaned back with his elbows along the bar and one leg crossed over the other - revealing the scandalously undressed leg of a Scotsman sticking out from the slit of his dress. He was one cocktail in but already too discontent to care. They were all in the same boat at this point, after all. "Misery loves company?" proposed the masked woman and he pushed up his sunglasses; his own mask was painfully plain.

With unshaded eyes, it was easier to notice that there was something recognizable about her: both in look and voice.

"Quite so." Balfour motioned a mock cheers before downing the rest of the cocktail. "If I wanted to drink alone, I would have chosen a much less... conspicuous setting," he grimaced - and then laughed. "Not that I chose anything about this. I must say, you look terribly familiar. Have we met be--"

A commotion on the other end of the table interrupted his question and Balfour glanced over as several patrons complained about a young witch in (relatively) unconventional attire. He was vaguely gratified to see so many other people taking solace in alcohol, and turned back to the familiar-looking witch. "I can't make heads or tails of anyone here tonight."

It was a triple shroud. Everyone was in costume, everyone was masked, and nearly everyone would be drunk by the end of the evening.

The bartender had long since departed, but that meant little to what occurred next. The falsetto voice, that boa. Oh. Godric. This begged for a photograph to remember for eternity, but dammit, there was no one nearby to take the smash. Damn. Gabrielle's eyebrow rose, pressing her lips into a fine line. "Golly? Since when did such a word enter a lady's vernacular, I wonder? Sounds quite improper, don't you think?" she teased, soon tapping the table to indicate Johann could sit right across from her. The hand touch remaining as he sat caused Gabie to snort sharply, almost too audible for those around them. How she wished there was a photographer!

"Merlin have you seen what Elixa's dressed me in. Save me."

"Oh, good lady, I assure you I see perfectly what the good madam has put you into. Oh, the temptation to find a photographer is there, but if I don't find one, I'll enjoy replaying this memory for a very long time. Who knew that my first arrival here would cause such a hearty laugh?" Gabrielle quipped, the smirk never once leaving her lips. "As for the sitting alone, I'm hardly alone with you about, dearie." An evil twitch to that smirk rose quickly enough. "Naughty, naughty."

Once another round of polite pleasantries, flatteries and schmoozing had passed Arianne turned around on the spot, hoping to recognize one familiar face or the other. Lucrezia was conspicuously absent and Aria's face fell into a rather displeased grimace. She knew exactly where she could find her. That blasted hag.

Sashaying her way towards the back of the room, she smiled and shook hands along the way until she reached the bar. Lifting up the counter door she walked behind the bar, dropping a kiss on Blaise's cheek as she passed him and stopped in front of Ezia, arms crossed and menacing posture. "I don't remember abandoning your friend on her grand opening night being considered proper friend etiquette, Lucrezia" she said calmly, but lowly, arching an eyebrow in question.

"Is she being her foul tempered self with you, madmoiselle?"  she asked more sweetly to the man dressed in a very risqué dress sitting next to her. Hiding a sly smirk at the rather chic choice of outfit, she tilted her head to scan the rest of the bar. it seemed like everybody had ran off over here... That certainly couldn't mean good things to the success of her evening. "A round of absinthe for every lady and gentleman sitting at the bar"  she declared with a bright, seductive smile, eyes directing Blaise to comply with their best liquor.

Mathieu was not a drag queen. Female impersonation held no sway for the young keeper, yet… he couldn’t deny the lure of the attraction. To completely change one’s persona, even for an evening – a chance to really put yourself into the shoes of another, to cast aside your own worries and fears for a night as someone else – someone without the burdens of everyday life. Someone you could put in a box at the end of the night (and not be arrested for it!), and keep her there until you next have use for her. It was a tempting thought.

Mathieu was not a drag queen. He had visited Le Masquerade on several occasions when it was run by Éloi – though not particularly close, they had been family, and the VIP status was worth a visit whenever he could spare the time. Now, with the reopening, Mathieu found himself compelled to go – if only to show support for his family.

Mathieu was not a drag queen – but he knew plenty. He was pretty fluid with his sexuality, and had friends from all walks of life. He knew the importance of big hair, of large costume jewelry, of extra padding, of balancing in extremely high-heels, and yes, of the dreaded tuck. If this venture were to happen – as it seemed it was going to – Mathieu was determined to do it right.

Though Mathieu’s body hair was minimal, a quick wave of the wand did away with the rest. An hour and a half in a chair, while queens painted his face, followed. They added thick layers of powder, to create highlights and cheekbones. They glued down his eyebrows, painted over them, and drew on more sculpted beauties above his natural ones. His eye make-up was bold and beautiful, but the real attention was his bright purple lips. After sliding the gaff up his legs, securing his very sensitive parts in place, the man shimmied into his tight evening dress. With a final sticking charm upon his wig, and Mathieu was good to go.

His long boots made a clacking sound as they hit the floor of Le Masq. Years of quidditch conditioning had granted Mathieu with a graceful, well-balanced gait, and walking in the heels was merely uncomfortable – rather than difficult. A grin swept his features as he realized that no one recognized him. Unless Mathieu opened his mouth – people seemed unaware of who they were around. It was a great feeling.

He was sure anyone close to him, such as the proprietor, would see through the ruse in an instant – but Mathieu had yet to see his dear cousin… that is… until she stepped up to the bar and ordered everyone a free shot of absinthe. The wizard rose gracefully from his seat, grabbed a phial of absinthe, and strutted over to where Arianne stood. “Bonjour, mademoiselle, you’ve outdone yourself this time. Here’s to you,” He said, before lifting the glass to his lips and downing the strong liquid in a single gulp. With long-nailed fingers, Mathieu placed the empty glass upon the table and grinned up at his family.

outfit