Jordana had seen who she was being paired with and it slightly intrigued her, but she planned to make something out of it.

With a drink in hand, she turned towards the table Mateo was, when a body stepped in front of her. "Hello."

Amidst the charged atmosphere of the event, where tensions and hostilities always simmered just beneath the surface of Dior, there was Cece, who despite any personal reservations or animosities remained committed to upholding a sense of grace and appreciation for excellence.

Scanning the room, her discerning eye caught sight of someone adorned in exquisite fashion. Despite any internal conflicts she might've harboured for them (maybe? she couldn't quite make out their face just yet), she still felt compelled to share her admiration by recognising and vocalising the elegance and style that had captured her mid drink. With a polite, "Oh Darling, there is an urgent matter that requires my attention and I must--." Adam cut her off with a nod and a kiss. Returning his kiss, she gracefully accepted her hand from him, and with a determined stride reminiscent of Napoleon Bonaparte's march to Moscow, she made her way over to an absolutely stunning outfit.

Ayda had no idea who she might have ended up with when she decided to participate in this event. It was for a great cause, and honestly she could use a break away from London. Though, finding out who her date was, it sent a whole new wave of anxiety through her.

A glass of wine placed in front of her, sitting at the table observing around her. Russet hues glance up when a figure stops. "Enjoying your night?"

Maria had the night to herself and thought about checking out the competition; not that she would call it that. After a visit to the bathroom, to freshen up, she weaved through the crowd, coming up beside a person at the bar.

"Can I get a old fashion?" She smiles at the bartender, her body twists to the person beside her. "What are you drinking?"

"Ms. Korshunova! What is your response to the rumors about the HCA’s involvement in the recent shootings near South Kensington?" "Ms. Korshunova, is this an attempt by your father, President Korshunov, to suppress anti-Russian sentiment in British politics?" "Ms. Korshunova! Do you know who else could be involved?" "Ms. Korshunova! Ms. Korshunova—any comment?"

Stepping out of Westminster was a jarring experience. The moment she set foot outside, a barrage of shouting voices, flashing cameras, and thrusting microphones surrounded her, turning what would normally be a brief walk to her waiting car into an obstacle course.

She was already aware of the news. The speed with which the baseless allegations spread among the British public was even more infuriating than the accusations themselves—utterly absurd.

If it were up to Lyudmila, she would have fiercely denied these slurs against her family. But she knew better than to engage.

With her head down, she pushed her way through the crowd, narrowly evading the journalists who were barely restrained by her security team.

As she neared her car, distracted by her sole focus on escaping the scene, she accidentally collided with someone.

"Pardon me, I didn’t see you."

Who: @mobscene-starters

Emine was in a new world since she moved herself in with Olivier. She was grateful to have a friend like him and to be able to completely remove herself from it all. He allowed her to deal with her heartbreak her way and was supportive of Ramadan. It was different doing it alone.

The drug dealer moved around the crowd of people finding herself a table. Nails tapped against the table top, looking over to the person at the table beside her.

"What would you recommend to drink?"

It had been a day since she woke up in the hospital. The pain medications were helping with her tolerance, but it was keeping her a little loopy. Not that she minded at the moment. 

Things were a mess, and she wished there was something she could do to fix it, but knew letting Varden and Delphine handle it was the best option. 

There was a knock at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone to visit or how much people knew. 

“Come in.” Emilia calls out, knowing that the bodyguards out front would only let someone in that had permission.