Polishing off the final sip of her glass, Gwen hazarded a quick glance over her shoulder at the figure whoâd made themselves comfortable at her side. She hadnât particularly expected a response, her musings a rhetorical slip of the tongue more than anything else, but misery (or at the very least, seething boredom) loved company, and anyone inclined to see past the veil of functioning alcoholic politicianâs wives and state senatorsâ latest sidepieces to the truly laughable intermingling of the bigshots of the underground on the brink of battle was worth at least her civility.
There was something familiar about this one though. Tall, good-looking - not unlike every other halfway handsome Hamptonite wandering around in board shorts and beer in hand - if not a bit out of place. Perhaps it was the devil-may-care tinge to zir tone or the tired expression that lingered behind zir sunglasses, but Gwen knew she had seen them before. Titan, one of Syrusâ new cohorts, or otherwise she kept a poker face as she mulled over her response, her features drawn. She hummed in consideration before murmuring measuredly, âStatus makes great pretenders of us all,â and testing the waters, she extended a pristinely manicured hand - no better way than the straightforward approach to determine just which side of enemy lines ze fell upon. The lipstick pistol still cool wedged against her sternum was all the assurance she needed. With a benign smile she added, âGwendolen. Shaughnessy.â
The weather is still holding up, not cooling even as it gets later, something that ze appreciates. Eddie rarely ventures out of the house in shorts, much less to an occasion such as this. Maybe itâs the feeling of exposure, of bearing some of oneself. Thereâs a bag slung over zir shoulder, and with zir free hand, ze fiddles with the strap. Running the material over zir nails. As she speaks, ze looks back to the woman. Zeâs aware of the criminal presence at this party, and it unnerves zir. Zeâs been shy of speaking to strangers, for fear of running into â and, much worse than hating, liking â a New Olympian. The last thing ze needs right now is somebody else getting into zir head.
âSomething is rotten in the state of New York,â ze comments before ze can think, and it catches zir a little by surprise. Zeâs not the type to make puns â the type to quote Shakespeare where necessary, yes, but ze isnât a funny person. There again, Eddie doesnât think that what ze said was very funny. Clouding with self-consciousness, it takes a second to remember where ze knows that name from. But then it comes back to zir â Gwen, Zeusâ right hand. Suddenly, ze thinks ze might be in a bad situation, but leaving now would make it worse, so ze plays along. âEdison Piatek,â ze introduces zirself with. Itâs not a lie; that is zir name, after all, just not all of it. âPleasureâs all mine.â
