boredom plagues the man, even as callum escapes the crowded room and hides away behind a flask of brandy that he had filled to get through the season's first ball. if callum should ever truly enjoy such an evening of dull festivities, assume the boy had lost every ounce of personality and mischief he has ever possessed. drinking from the flask, callum turns his head, eyes scanning the courtyard as if he was looking for someone specific. he doesn't expect to see one of the many march daughters, jo, looking as if she was sneaking out from the ball, herself. head tilts a bit as he caps his container, quietly rounding a low bush and leaning against the wall, waiting for her to walk by before he says, with the intention of startling her, 'shouldn't you be in there dancing like your other sisters?' he gives a smirk as he glances down at her. 'surly there's someone who won't bore you to death. probably not, but we can hope, right?' @fals3nd.
