Admittedly, Owen probably shouldn’t have accepted the mission to support the Irish mafia at the Golightly gala. He was a horrible spy, constantly getting distracted by all the exciting sights and attractions that he had never once seen before in his life. Even when he managed to somehow jump his way into a conversation, he seemed to have a remarkable talent for driving people away. All he had really gotten up to that point was that there was some super valuable diamond being worn that evening, and everyone wanted to get a look at it. Something along those lines, but nothing that he expected Mr. Barrett to be interested in.
He was in a bit of a quandry, puzzling over what sort of information his boss would prefer the most. The orchestra had just finished playing a slow ballad and was beginning to pick up the pace with a more lively tune; one that Owen faintly recognized. As he glanced over to the dance floor, curious, he thought he spotted his neighbour of all people among the guests. The runner blinked owlishly in surprise, taking off after her before he had much time to consider how he would explain his own attendance there.
“Miss Wells! Fancy seeing you here! You look, um...wow.“ Owen trailed off a moment as he walked closer, fully taking in the navy dress with intricate gold beadwork and the way she had paid such careful attention to detail with each accessory. A familiar face among a sea of strangers felt like such an odd sort of relief, though this was a far cry from a passing ‘hello’ in the hallway of their apartment complex. “I’m sorry, I must have lost my train of thought. You’re stunning, truly. Marvelous party, isn’t it?”
