& @malerholbein (@serholbein)
The evening was progressing splendidly; the ladies' performance had been a great success, eliciting whoops and cheers from the gathered crowd both during and afterward, to Bridget's great delight. The wine flowed endlessly and she partook with joy, raising her glass to the many toasts proposed by those who may have indulged too much as they sauntered about. There were those who did not seem altogether pleased to be in attendance and they kept to the outer corners of the room, engaging in quiet conversation with other who shared their views on the spectacle instead of daring to claim illness as an excuse, for who would want to insult the king by not showing their face at such a glorious event?
Elaborate candle displays kept the room alight, casting shadows over the faces of the attendees as the hour grew late. Many of the older crowd had since retired, leaving the young people of the king's court to continue to frolic about, music and voices just as loud as they had been when the room was full to bursting. As Bridget made her way across the room, plucking a sweet or two off of various tray, the court's celebrated painter caught her eye. He was sitting along, uncharacteristic for him as his attentions were usually highly sought after, as were all figures of genius. Bridget approached the man confidently, blocking his line of sight to the rest of the room. "You are not enjoying yourself, Master Holbein? I took you for a man who had a great appreciation for beauty; is tonight not the most beautiful you have seen?"