🖤 The Veiled Reflection 🖤

"Did I ever mention, I fucking hate kids?"

Merde.

It's part of a very limited vocabulary he has in French, but the Rutherford has a feeling it's going to be a revolving word over the next twenty-four hours.

Only in his head, of course—he's not a complete animal.

Granted, it could be worse, he thinks, downing the remainder of his glass and reaching blindly for another on the champagne table to his left. But it could've also been much, much better. He's suddenly grateful he resisted Diana's attempts to wheedle him into a date involving a multi-day trip abroad.

Petty? Maybe. Truth? Absolutely.

"Jean in a dark corner? Quelle surprise — shame he's not over here entertaining," the corner of her lips tilting as she turned her head to Sofie in a grateful nod. The French were not just her brother's family, but her own now. And people like Sofie brought her comfort in situations like this one, even when her eyes kept searching for Laurent in the room. She had someone as good as a sister beside her. "If I can’t find any decent eye-candy, I might just become the scandal myself, and see what options are left over in this Sahara Desert of men."

Keeping her hand laced in the other woman's, Lisette weaves her way through the crowd till they come up to a table near the bar. Sitting Odile with her back to the ring, she grabs a drink off a passing tray and places it in front of her friend. The waiter attempts to tell Lisette that the drink, a Jack and Coke as he explains, was 'made for someone' and she only bit back, "Then make it again," while cutting the waiter down with her eyes. He put up no further argument, and Lisette sat down across from the younger woman, "Deep breath and deep sips," she said, pushing the tumbler towards her and squeezing her hand.

Her tone wasn’t the same tempo as her usually light, high-pitched, excited voice. This was a party after all, wasn’t it? Where she flourished and excelled. Instead, it came out lower, less enthusiastic. But the comfort of her hand intertwined with Lisette’s allowed her to keep her head high. 

Odile had been brought up in a socialite’s spotlight; she knew how to work a crowd. Her ability to mask had been one of her strongest skills. But this? It felt off-kilter, different from what she’d moulded herself too. She wanted to be the spit of Laurent, but even she had limits. She was still struggling to put the pieces together. 

Walking, she didn’t realise how tightly she held onto the woman who was her family. But there was something in the way Lis commanded herself that it rubbed off on the blonde. Odile felt confidence bloom in her where it’d otherwise lacked moments ago.

Reaching the bar was a blur. Lisette talked, and Odile turned – staring back towards the ring. Before she snapped herself out of it, and came to look at the man who now looked flustered under the star of a St. Clair. Don’t worry, my dude, it happens to most people, she wanted to say. “Same, uh, please,” she managed, though her face had paled once again.

This is when she wished they could leave. No phones, no exit…stuck. 

There were rules though and although she normally didn't mind breaking them, violence outside of the ring would result in removal. Viktoriya very much wanted to see the rest of the fights. Still, to let this moment pass...

"Do I make your nervous, Odile? Can't fend for yourself, hm? Always needing someone else to take care of things for you." Vika looked around and was happily surprised to see the blonde's compatriots fully occupied. She turned the woman's head around as well, letting her see her predicament. "Tonight's not your night." She squeezed Odile's face just a bit tighter.

"Cause me any amount of harm will equal in you being ejected, and you wouldn't want to bring such shame to your poor father, now, would you?" She wanted to say it: that they all knew he was crazy. "Now as I've already said, Viktoriya, remove your hands from me. Because if my brother or his friends see you, I can't promise how this will end for you. Or your brother."

A princess she was involved but yet her hands remained relatively clean. She was shielded from the right parts, while also being shown everything all at the same time. It made her naïve in some senses, but highly street aware of more situations. But her handle on her mouth, just like Laurent's, had never been a strong suit. The winch of Vika's hands on her caused a grunt to form on her lips, which pulled back to reveal teeth. Bared, feral and ready to snap.

"Tonight isn't over."