Drinking on a Monday

“Oh, yes, I will talk to you soon. And please do not forget to send me an invitation to your little soirée next week! I already know what outfit I want to wear and it would be shame if I didn’t get the chance~”

A little wiggle of his slender fingers and exchanged pleasantries from the other… and then Atreus was alone, again, a sigh on his lips as he rested his elbow on the table and cupped his chin in his hand. His smile bled away for a soft, thoughtful frown, his fingers tapping aimlessly on the tabletop. If he was being honest, he hoped the man he had been talking with forgot about his invitation… if only to cause a ruckus next time they met. But time would tell how that played out.

Leaning back in his chair, he glanced around the room once before slipping out a small book from where he had tucked it under his seat and tilted it so that he could read the finely printed letters in the light, but still keeping it out of sight from any who would dare to pry. He had convinced one of the little servant boys to swipe it for him with nothing more than an extra coin. Besides, they didn’t need the guest list now that everyone was here, did they?

His fingers gently traced the names as he read them under his breath, occasionally glancing up to see who had shown and who didn’t. And he was pleasantly surprised to see that most did- at least the ones he recognized. There were a few he only knew by name, and though he could deduce to the best of his ability to match names to faces from where he sat, there was one…

“Lady Svea,” He mumbled softly under his breath, giving the room one more look over before a soft shrug left his shoulders. “I do hope you’re okay, my dear, you never miss a party.” But his musings were quickly forgotten as his gaze landed on a man whom he did not recognize- neither from the list nor his person. And there was a curious tip of his head as he considered him: tall - very tall - and masked.

Now, why would someone wear a mask in a place like this? Atreus just had to know.

Closing the book and tucking it under his arm, he straightened his coat before stepping into the crowd, his chin high and a delicate smile finding his lips. He danced through the crowd first, exchanging pleasantries with any who would give him the time of day, hoping to not make it clear that this tall masked man was his intended destination… until he found himself accidentally bumping into him, stumbling a few steps back with apologies on his breath.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” He said quickly, clutching his book to his chest as he turned his gaze up to the stranger. His breath hitched and his brow pinched, his lips forming a thin line as he pretended to have laid eyes on him for the first time.

“I’m sorry, you are…?” He turned his gaze to his book, opening it and flipping through the pages of names. “Oh, well, unless you happen to be Lady Svea, I don’t think you belong here.” His tone fell, as if he was sharing a secret, as he peeked up from his book with a cheeky grin and an arch of his brow.