Never the sort of woman to want material items, she merely observes all that is offered--the earrings, the bracelets, the necklaces, the rings--and takes note of the extravagance (and the extravagantly high price that will undoubtedly follow each piece of jewelry). Sipping at her drink, Cat decides there are a few things she can see herself wearing; she takes a bit of time debating on if she wants to bid or not. After a few more moments, she decides to spend her time elsewhere and to find a familiar face in such an unfamiliar place.
Catherine hardly realizes the woman at her side until it’s too late; as she turns to head in the opposite direction, her shoulder collides with the other’s, effectively sloshing her glass’s contents around. “Dio mio,” she murmurs, a prelude to her following apology, “mi dispiace. I didn’t see you there. Did anything spill on you?” Azure eyes scan the other woman for any signs of stains or drops from her glass, but it’s difficult for the Daly woman to concentrate much on clothes when she’s far more interested in the who is underneath.
“Forgive me for staring,” she says sheepishly, “but you seem... Awfully familiar, signora.” Her lips curl sweetly at the edges in the beginnings of a warm smile. “I think I’ve seen you around Verona, but I haven’t had the chance to properly introduce myself.” The youngest Daly wouldn’t have taken the one chance she had; the one time she’s seen this woman was days ago when Cat accidentally ended up at the same place as Grace, and something (Nerves? Fear?) stopped her from approaching the pair.
Now, she won’t let the same chance slip away--not without speaking. “Catherine Daly. And you?”
