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h e n r y ([info]fictitious) wrote in [info]valesco,
@ 2013-03-29 18:41:00


Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:delilah spinnet, elizabeth fortescue, group, henry wadcock, ian bell, kendall broadmoor, miles lufkin, mirabelle jasper, rian kettleburn, richard house, rose knightley, rupert brookstanton, scarlett rabnott

Charity Dinner! Open to All! For Saturday!



for more information

He stared at his reflection in the back of the bar area, his face refracted by the different panes of glass. Henry had long left his assigned seat at a table full of some of the highest donors of the night. They had found it to be such an honor that he was seated with them, that to be dining beside someone who must be so strong to go through this travesty was something to brag about. Henry had silently and barely acknowledged them, allowing their obsession with themselves and their egos to draw the conversation away from him.

The empty glass cracked loudly against the counter of the bar as he finished the drink. Henry could feel himself starting to feel slow and sluggish, but if he was forced to be here then he was going to do it on his own terms. If that meant getting so pissed that he slept under the bar for the rest of the night, then so be it.

Someone slipped onto the stool beside him, but seeing as there was no one that Henry wished to speak to tonight, he dropped his gaze back to his empty glass and tapped the side so that it could magically fill up once more.


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Mira!
[info]mileshigh
2013-03-31 08:28 pm UTC (link)
He held her indecently close for a pair that was on the dance floor of a charity event. Miles' grin couldn't be wider as he looked down at Mira, and he wondered how long they would have to be here for his publicist to be happy. Yes, yes, it was for a good cause, but his bank account had already donated enough on his behalf; was much more time necessary? After the freedom of traveling wherever and whenever he pleased for the past two months, Miles did not like this idea of being forced into one place. Yes, they had returne to grand old England, but that had only been acceptable because the vixen in his arms had also made her way back home.

Morocco had been a very productive detour, but when it came to Mira Jasper, one was always left wanting more.

"Do you wish to stop?" he asked as the music changed melodies. It was more of the same classical, formal music that had been playing all night long, and while Miles was expertly trained in each of the dances' steps it was not the best music to maintain his close encounter with Mira. His hand pressed harder into her back as if answering the question for her, but Miles could be easily swayed by any of Mira's suggestions.

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