Such themed events as this proved to always be hackneyed and rushed together; most having far too many broad interpretations; causing an eyesore all around. Especially for said era that was chosen for tonight. He had kept to his own quintessential brand of wardrobe, showing up in a suit, always and forever. Of course, under the guise of said trite theme, it was a horrid hue and an equally horrid stretch of fabric. If somebody could roll around half naked on roller blades, surely nobody would bat an eye at his personal choice. Unless, they had an eye for fashion and the arts, however. Recognizing the familiar idyllic tone he had once attempted to snuff out plenty of times before, Odette similar enough in age to his family, as he could recall. “Not even being forced along to be auctioned off for charity could get me wearing a peace symbol necklace and bell bottoms,” he bit back in retort, eyes grazing around the room at the various others who had chosen said fashion mistake, before obsidian hues finally landed back on his momentary companion for the evening. Such extension of pure grandeur caused Noah to let out a dry chuckle of his own, eyes flitting down from the drink and back to Odette’s carved features, finally accepting the beverage as if there was a catch. There always was in his own bout of paranoid plight. His head bowed now as she spoke, as if that’s what it was, lips pursed as he clicked his tongue. “Any opinions on that?” He shot back, his tone illusive enough to neither confirm nor deny, bringing the glass to his lips.
She didn’t really thing she was one to complain when it came to wardrobe - Noah had at least put in some effort, as no doubt it was a painful effort, to get himself into something outrageously cloured. It was an irony then, that out of the two of them she was the one who gave up the fight and showed up dressed in one colour and a few decades ahead. Truth was, she just didn’t give a shit right now - she needed to feel good, not appropriate - perhaps that was why she was standing next to Noah, and not chatting away cheerfully with whatever patrons were around. There was no expectation for her to be perfectly delightful, on the contrary, Noah seemed not to want that out of her, though even in this state of disarray she was still a far cry from him. “Oh you are right, I’d almost forgotten about that. Are you trying to make women give up on you with that jacket? Is that the secret plan?”, she was smiling as she said it, eyes trained on the liquid in her glass as she swirled it around, a few shades darker than whiskey was supposed to be, “I’ll stop now I promise, I’ve filled my quota of pushing your buttons for the day, I think, and I’ve seen worse. But you never know. How did you get yourself into that mess anyway? Davenports pulling a prank or a scorned Carrington?” She knew he hadn’t agreed to it, that was for sure, and it’d been absurd the first time she saw his name on the list, but come think of it - it would make for a great show. “Whoever’s getting you will have overpaid, I have a feeling you won’t just sit there and look pretty, or you will but you’ll have that scowl on your face. Brooding is passé. Oh, stop that.”, she said impatiently as she nudged the glass towards him when he finally reached out to take it. The careful scrutiny with which he regarded her hadn’t gone unnoticed and now she was raising an amused eyebrow at him, “What am I going to do? Poison you? You know that’s not my style, and I’ve given up trying to kill you... a thousand years ago? Has it been that long? Relax, it’s just moi.” She ignored the illusive lilt that crept into his voice - it wasn’t anything new, it hadn’t been for centuries - and she’d gotten used to dealing with this a long time ago. It was either that or cut him off, and she wasn’t a cutting off type, so she took it in stride instead. “Ah, ah, we’re not playing that game. Come on Noah, is your opinion of me so low that you think I’ll actually take that bait? Up the game or I’ll get gravely offended.”, she was fully aware of what he was doing - throwing it out like a challenge, taunting her to jump at it with a mouthful of judgement - some weird way of proving his own point. “It was just an innocent comment.”, she smiled at him in a way that was all innocence and no innocence at all, “I’m just saying, could you not snack on the nice ones? Poor thing’s bewildered, now he thinks we’re all unhinged and I’ve been trying to build a good reputation. Right. You don’t care, blah blah blah, fast forward, moving on. I’m contemplating bidding on you out of spite, or friendly solicitude, I haven’t decided yet, but you’ll owe me a Rockwell if I do.”
