A most unwelcome fly upon the wall, suddenly mingling unabashedly with the enemy masses; Wesleyās mother had always told her not to attend parties to which she was not invited, but dear mother surely had never expected her to be quite as unwelcome as she was at present. Surely they were all capable of civility -- she certainly was. But at a soiree meant to celebrate the very man who she had put behind bars, and unapologetically so, was something far beyond unwelcome. She could only imagine it to be utterly hostile.Ā
But she knew that she could not be squashed -- nor could she be silenced. In one hand, quarrelsome fingers tapped upon the neck of a full-to-brim champagne glass, and in the other perched a cigarette, which flew to her lips for a steeling inhale. Perhaps it would be fun to see a scene unfold.Ā
Or perhaps she would be the scene. Her vivid imagination had already graced her with visions of enacted revenge. But she had forgotten to care, it seemed; she stood before a viperous wonderland, small pad of paper in her breast pocket and her fatherās pen tucked within. It burned against her chest, begging to be filled to the brim with secrets and lives laid bare again -- but before indulging, she would need to survive the return of its last victim. The idea of waltzing in on his homecoming, entirely unbidden, made her giddy. Perhaps her pad and pen would indulge that story for the evening.Ā
āOne more for the road,ā she hummed in a billow of smoke, voice an unabashed drawl -- she never had quite learned to be quiet -- as she propped the cigarette between her lips once more,Ā āAnd champagne to wash it down. I knew I liked theseĀ parties for a reason.ā Her eyes searched the undulating crowd, a shadow chasing shadows -- and dared anyone to meet her gaze.Ā
āAlthough, if Iām honest --ā her lips quirked up at the corners,Ā ā-- itād go down a bit easier with a beer.ā