late into the evening, the anniversary party, september 25th ( @malachaifortune. )
He always has a good time at parties like this. They remind him of when he was a teenager, being shown off at his parents’ fancy pureblood parties, the way he and Storm kind of reveled in being not only allowed to primp and preen, but encouraged to. After a long break from them, he had realized they’re even more fun now that he’s something of a novelty, still always invited because of his name, but nearly scandalous given the way he lived his life for a good twenty years. They would never admit it, of course, but there’s little stuck up, rich assholes love more than getting to live vicariously through someone else, while also turning their nose up at them, and Ransom’s pretty perfect for that need.
All the better that there’s more entertainment tonight in the form of most of the office being there to spice things up, too. It’s as much fun to watch the scandalized looks some of the younger ones get from the old wealthy women, as it is to pull a few from them himself. He runs through his to do list for the night pretty quickly, giving the unhappy couple their gift, flirting mercilessly with Vesper in front of their husband while he’s at it, drinking copious amounts of to top tier booze, letting his parents introduce him to a poor eligible pureblood girl barely older than his oldest daughter who he waves off towards Becca instead, and making a few scenes with his colorful stories. Then he lets himself look for what he really wants.
It’s not hard to spot them even in a crowd like this. After all, he has a lot of practice picking them out of a crowd, eyes always scanning for them, whether he means to be or not. And maybe there’s something a little different sitting in his chest as he makes his way towards them tonight, the difference he had felt on their boat on that case still hanging around, although he’s not sure it feels quite right here of all places, almost like whatever that was is reserved only for there.
Either way, Ransom approaches Mal, smile playing on his lips, glass in hand, free hand immediately landing on their shoulder, the soft material of their very open shirt, letting fingertips skirt along the line of their arm. “Oh good, we match. It would’ve been awfully embarrassing if we didn’t. I’ve been looking for a suitable dance partner,” Ransom hums.