Masquerade [Kuskovo Estate]

[Raffe]

Noémi was nervous. The signs were subtle, she was graceful as a swan, and as demure as though she belonged amongst these people. But she was distracted too. Raffe only offered his arm and stayed silent. He watched the people around them with mild disinterest, but felt no great desire to fit in. Whatever dampened his heartbreak also dampened any nerves he might have otherwise felt himself, though he wondered why Noémi was putting herself through it.

As a waiter passed by, Raffe plucked two flutes of champagne from the tray, offering a brief smile of thanks. He handed one to Noémi. She took it with a small centering breath, like she had been a million miles away. He half turned to see what had captured her attention so, but was interrupted when a man approached them with fluttery compliments and grand introductions. He recognised neither name, which came as no surprise.

“Merci,” Noémi said, but her eyes blinked up to Raffe, touched with concern. For the comment about him, he imagined, which was sweet of her but unnecessary. He wasn’t particularly bothered about being described so, but he knew her past, and perhaps she felt differently. “It is a Zalya piece,” she added. She did not blush under the attention, though neither bloomed as some women did for the attention. "It is a pleasure to meet you both. I am Noémi Jourdain, and this is my friend --"

“Just Raffe,” he said, with the accent of a friendly shrug. An old-fashion cravat tucked away the scar on his neck from view, but his voice was tell-tale hoarse. He offered a hand if either man wished to shake it.