#societe.start

he had already greeted his hosts, and now was doing a lap around the ballroom, taking in everything and everyone, trying to find a sibling or a friend amongst the groups of people. eventually lord suffolk ended up at a table serving refreshments, and picked up a glass of lemonade. “would you like one?” he asked the person next to him.

For all he had prepared himself ( or rather, braced himself ) for the barrage of interactions he would face at the ball, experiencing it was another thing altogether. Barely two years ago he had no cause to doubt himself, not when both his upbringing and years of practise meant that he could attend events without thinking twice. But now he was painfully aware of the break he had taken from the season and the questions and talk that had undoubtedly come with it. So far most had, to his great relief, kept their queries to a minimum and allowed him to quietly enter himself back into the throng that was The Ton. But there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind that had convince him that there would be plenty that would have their questions about his motives for returning. He was never usually inclined to vanity and on another occasion he would not have believed that most would give him a second thought but nonetheless he found himself hesitating during interactions. His usual ease with other’s somewhat deserting him as it made way for tentativeness when he felt so out of practise. 

It had seemed easier to remain in group discussions, safer almost when he could rely on others to continue the conversation leaving less chance for him to falter. For the most part it seemed to have worked, at least until his most recent companions made their excuses to greet someone else, leaving him with only one other to entertain. Words that once came so easily evaded him and he found himself grasping for the simplest of topics in the hopes that it would satisfy them long enough that he might think of something better. “Quite a night, is it not? Our hosts have truly set the bar.”