Clement had never had much use for masks. Sure, he had the different faces he wore, but whether he had the razor sharp teeth of his Veela heritage or the charming smile that he got from his father, Clement was still himself regardless of what he looked like. That was something that his mother had instilled in him, in not shying away from his Veela side, in not shying away from any part of himself. Clement knew that he was slippery and he was manipulative and he could be a problem, especially at parties like this one, but he was brave and funny and he didnât hurt people because he wanted to, but because he had to. Somehow, to Clement, those words made all the difference, but he was starting to think that maybe hurting people was just hurting people.Â
He did much better with this part of his job, with blending in and charming information out of people. He wasnât the type of person who enjoyed the violenceâin fact, he was a little afraid of it. He wasnât afraid of getting hurt so much as he was afraid of hurting other people. It was a small mercy that he didnât have the talons that came along with so many other Veela traits, and his inclination towards scratching was only as fatal as human nails allowed it to be, but it would be too easy to bite a chunk out of someone or set them on fire with his Veela magic. In situations like the Zabini party, where he had a mask on and he was just meant to listen and observe, it was a lot less nerve-wracking to think about his Veela abilities.Â
Of course, there were other aspects of jobs like this that were annoying. Heâd much rather be in his casual clothes than in his suits, especially after spending a lifetime being told not to wrinkle them. The crowd was a lot, almost too much if Clement hadnât been able to distract himself by pickpocketing everyone in sight. And, frankly, this whole theme with the masks and the meanings was lost on Clement, who wore a mask that just barely resembled a mouse if he was asked about it. He didnât particularly care for whatever little games the society girl in charge of this party was playing to make what was essentially the same old party all over again quasi-interesting.Â
Clement, therefore, moved through the party like a ghost, flirting with people as necessary, picking up jewelry off peopleâs hands and leaving their rings in nearby potted plants. It wasnât for any reason other than Clement needing to do something with his itchy fingers. In fact, he was about to pickpocket the man next to him when he turned around, and Clement cocked his head to the side in curiosity. The man in front of him didnât say anything, and Clement followed suit for a moment before turning on his most charming voice. âProne to silence, cher?â
   It didnât take long for Sirius to realise who was standing in front of him. Clement didnât seem to acknowledge his identity, but he wasnât surprised. They knew each other for quite a long time but have never gotten too close for Clement to recognise him while being covered head to toe. He chuckled at him. He took notice of the tone of his voice. If his face was unveiled, Clement would see the smirk his face was plastering. Sirius couldnât deny it, he found himself charmed by the man since the day he met him. He didnât know what drew him in, was it the veela nature, the fact he was french, the mystery that surrounded him? Whatever it was he was definitely intrigued by Clement.
   âOui Mon chériâ He decided to flex the fact that he was fluent in French, maybe impress him a bit. âAt least for now, silence is my true cover to the masquerade, or else everyone will recognise me immediately. It will not give me the chance to conduct my dramatic unveil.â He offered the explanation, amused. After all, he didn't plan to remain masked for the whole evening and something inside him assured him that Clement wouldnât unveil his identity before Sirius chooses to.Â
   Sirius had caught a glimpse of him in the crowd before he approached him. He saw him pickpocketing some of the guests. He was amused by it. Almost everyone here were wealthy-privileged blood purists, that wouldnât even miss the jewels. They were the ones wearing flashy diamonds, showing their wealth like it deemed them the superiority they craved their whole life. âFor you, I can break my silence if you care for some company, if I, of course, donât hold you back from... your activitiesâ he paused. He couldnât express his emotions with his face, so he decided to so though his words and his speech.Â
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