How Green Becomes Wood

"For some of us, they are a better comfort than a cross or the star and crescent." Dark joked back with her, "But it turned out favorable in the end, I believe. Daizi and I are glad you decided to stay involved."
 
"If you would," Dark replied, handing his plate to Ciara, "It will be only a moment."

The bar was to Ciara's back with how the room was oriented, and after handing his plate to her, he walked off towards the bar, suddenly unchaperoned and untethered.
 
Almost instantly, two girls dressed much like Kimberly, but with one in red and the other in silver, sashayed over to Dark.

"Hey, handsome. What are you doing all by yourself?" asked the one in silver.

"Did you come alone?" the red one asked, batting her extremely long lashes.
 
The two girls looked like they might melt like butter right there. The one in red managed to pull herself together first. "They might... if they were hot enough to bring some visual interest," she replied. "I mean, I would say the average IQ in here has to be at least 180 if not higher, but it's not often you get a high IQ and high looks at the same time."
 
"I was invited by Ciara Cunningham," Dark replied, feeling for the first time he could be successful as a James Bond styled spy, "I was only just going to get a drink." The mischievous and egotistical part of his brain thought he could probably get state secrets out of them, but he was fairly certain Ciara would kill him if he tried.
 
Both girls' expressions changed to disbelief. "Really?" they demanded. The one in red blushed faintly, and both moved back. Their feet didn't move, but their attitudes changed, and they leaned back.

"Wow, that is very impressive," the silver one said meekly. "And... surprising."

The one in red glanced toward the bar. "If you're fetching her a drink, we shouldn't hold you up."

The silver one rallied and gave him a flirty smile, though a more reserved one that was clearly meant more in play than seriousness. "Save me a dance?" They moved out of his way with tiny curtsied.
 
"If you insist," Dark replied, a faint light in his the eyes of his otherwise unexpressive face. That was a neat trick, and one he wished worked everywhere he went. At the bar, he ordered two glasses of champagne and took a long, quiet sip of one before returning to where Ciara sat. "Your name seems to carry a lot of weight here."
 
"Does it?" Ciara asked, carefully setting his plate on one of the tiny tables so she could take her champagne glass. "I suppose I am some of these people's boss." After a delicate sip, she asked, "Who were you speaking with?"
 
"I see," Ciara said, her tone two degrees above frigid. Then she shook it off. "Thank you," she said, lifting her glass. "I feel as though we should toast to something, but I am honestly not one to toast."

The dance floor was currently empty as many people were eating, but there were several anticipatory glances. Across the room, Kimberly had united with Red and Silver, and together, they were Red, Silver, and Gold. They whispered together excitedly.
 
"Do not get them into trouble on my account," Dark said cautiously, eyeing them, "They are trifling, to be sure, but harmless to me, if nothing else." Then, looking over Ciara, he raised his glass and said, "To a healthy amount of peer pressure."
 
Ciara considered this and then raised her glass. "To a healthy amount of peer pressure," she agreed and drank to the toast.

"Ciara! There you are! I was beginning to think you hadn't come!" called a voice.

Ciara sighed quietly and picked up a tiny meat and cheese on a stick. "The food is good," she told Dark before turning to face the older, heavy set woman barreling in her direction. "Ma'am. Good to see you."

The woman smiled and waved an ostentatious feather fan. "Isn't this party delightful? You know, if you trace my history down the right lines, you'll find a multiple-greats-grandfather who was a moonshiner, and a multiple-greats-grandfather who was an agent during this time. Isn't that a hoot?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Ciara agreed stoically. When the woman glanced at Dark, she introduced him. "Ma'am, this is Ghalib Dark. My companion for this evening. Mr. Dark, this is Wilhelmina McCoy, head of the Recourses Planning Office."

She stuck out her hand for a firm handshake. "How do you do?"
 
Not needing much urging to pick up on Ciara's suggestion, Dark turned and shook this new woman's hand. Being himself, he couldn't quite manage a smile, but he did his best to oblige what was expected of him. "It is good to meet you, Ma'am," he told her, returning her handshake. The light caught on his tattoos, but it didn't strike him at all, "I am doing well, it is good to be here. Being the head of Resources and Planning, may I presume you had a role in tonight's festivities?"
 
She caught the tattoos, but made no comment of it. "I did! Most of the time, my job is to play the role of bad guy by saying who gets what of the budget. No, you can't have a new microwave because the firing range targets went up in price, and no, you can't have the extra nice targets because the budget for fixing the crack in the basement went over. By a lot." She heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes. "Ah, well. Someone has to do it! It was nice to be able to say yes to nice things for a change. But enough about me! I babble on. What about you? What is it you do?"
 
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