#zophistication

“Hmm,” Nalini hums as though she is listening to what Zosia has just said - but she hasn’t heard a word of it. Her attentions have been diverted around the room, making note of all entries and exits, of the men in it, and who was paying her attention, the beginnings of a stupid, careless scheme taking root in her mind. Half the mansion was off limits to the guests, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to have a little look around? She could always claim she was lost, just looking for the bathroom, that she didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to be here....

Zosia speaks again, and though Nali has heard little of it, she knows she has just been asked a question, and that she has no idea what to answer. “Yes?” she tries, tentatively, judging Zosia’s expression for a reaction. “Or... no? Oh, I’m sorry Zosia, I was distracted.” She sighs, slumping against the bar. It is only then that she notes the gambling tables in the corner, and not for the first time, she feels like a horrible friend for making Zosia sit here in plain sight of them. 

“Oh! The cards... I didn’t even realise,” she leaps to her feet, scooping up her drink and holding her hand out for Zosia to take. “We shouldn’t be here, should we? A whole mansion of rooms to explore, and I make you sit here, how awful of me. Come on, shall we get some air? What do you think the gardens look like? Do you think there’s roses?” 

“Do my eyes deceive me?” 

Vera steps through the doors of the Speakeasy, giving every impression of a woman without a care in the world. Of course, the truth is less innocuous. Chaos reigns in Bourbon Street tonight - violence brought about by her own actions, and yet she gets to stand here, cool, nonchalant and unbothered to the untrained eye. 

Those who know her well would note the way her eyes scan the room, the way her shoulders are a little more square than usual. She’s tense, on the lookout for anybody who thought the speakeasy would be a good place to seek sanctuary from her wrath. 

Apparently, Zosia is one of them. 

“Look at you, hiding here like a little mouse.” A smile tugs the corner of her lips upwards. “I should have expected nothing less.” She reaches out a foot, kicks a chair out from an unoccupied table, and takes a seat. lacing her fingers elegantly on top of the oak wood surface. She has time enough, she thinks, for this. “What do you say we have a little drink, hm?”