Inarin's smile faded in response to Izaic's cutting retort, and the look in his eyes. This evening had seemed like a pleasant distraction, a way to celebrate the eve of Yule that he had till now always spent at his family's estate. But perhaps Izaic was right, and they couldn't afford it. He might not have had anything better to do, but there were paladins here, pulled off the streets. And so many important people, all together in one place. The proselyte stammered, unable to get a word out to reply.
He didn't have to. "Happy Genarium to you too, Izaic... " Val cut in dryly, pointedly raising an eyebrow. "Oh, but while you're here... Inarin passed on your apology last week," the necromancer raised a hand to where the cut on his lip had been - now barely visible - with a small laugh, before smiling at Izaic with well-practised false sincerity. "No hard feelings, hm? I still don't think that what I was implying was altogether too offensive, but I suppose I knew it would provoke you. So I'll admit to having deserved it, at least a little."
Inwardly, of course, he resented the performance. But two sides of him drove it. There was the side of him that wanted to make Inarin happy for the simple reason that he was fond of the younger boy. But there was also the side that wanted to make him happy because he felt that should he win the proselyte's heart, it would be just as fitting a form of revenge on the brute that had struck him as any hex would be. And so he went on.
"I'm sorry too. So, new leaf?" He looked over at Inarin and slipped an arm around his waist affectionately, prompting him to blush and look away. "I'd like to be friends with all of Inarin's friends, if I can be, after all." He flashed another sparkling, oh-so-convincing smile, with only the barest hint of the smugness that lay behind it. There were so many implications that could be read into such a statement, he was sure that Izaic would have fun with it.
Inarin stayed helplessly quiet, having been thoroughly quelled by Izaic's initial reaction. His eyes lingered on the piece of paper left behind in Izaic's hands.
Light. Why was that almost as off-putting as his classmate's put-down?
"It's the other way around, if anything," Arien remarked with a sly smile, shooting Al a knowing look. The necromancer actually blushed, ever-so-slightly, before quickly recovering his composure.
"He found us," he remarked, folding his arms and shrugging with exaggerated nonchalance. "Anyone who has the audacity to ask-" there was the barest hint of hesitation between words "-me on a date with that much self-assurance has to be worth at least a consideration. And well, I suppose he's alright." Al smirked across at Arien, who simply returned the look with a chuckle. "And if you're looking for a proselyte, try going to more raves." He grinned, offering no further context to the statement.
"The last few weeks haven't been easy for him," Florianne answered, taking a sip of her drink as her brow furrowed into a frown. "But that's to be expected. All things considered, I think he's doing well. He's even come out of his shell a little, though I'm not sure of his choice of company." She snorted. "Fellow practitioners or not. Not that Inarin's quite a practitioner yet. He insists his studies are purely theoretical."
Her eyes drifted from her nephew and across to Arianne, who she fixed with an assessing stare. "I'm curious, though. Why are you and Tethys here?"
Katherine followed Absolon's gaze, her eyes narrowing slightly in recognition of the women in question. "They seem an unsavoury sort," she replied ambiguously. "Likely affiliated with the necromancers, or some other branch of that community. As to their identities? I can only guess."
Of course, Lessard knew exactly who the women were - or could infer it, at the very least. But that was not information that even the well-connected socialite Katherine Lessard would be privy to, and so she did not state it. Whatever interest the Fabres had in this gathering, she doubted it was entirely wholesome.