Juliana frowned into her glass of champagne as she leaned back into a chair, the singular occupied around her assigned table. The chair to her left, formerly housing her sorry excuse for a husband, had been vacant now for a half hour in the least---citing some excuse she hadn't cared enough to listen to, Orpheus had taken his leave of the wedding a while back. It was a welcome absence for Juliana, although it would be a lie to say that she hadn't been enjoying the way that he had been so struggling with being visibly pleasant to her.
After Thursday night, the Travers' hadn't spoken, much less been civil towards one another, and none of the anger that either felt after their argument had subsided. In fact, Juliana was certain that the anger would only get worse---that was, once her husband found out just how many important people she'd shared the details of their fight with. By then, however, he wouldn't be able to do a damn thing about it.
That thought warmed her in a wicked way, and her lips upturned for a split second as she took a long drink of the alcohol in her glass. Still, though, now that the target of her torment was gone, it had become rather dull around there.
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