location: palace gardens — the ball.
( @ofravished — aydin )
lord aydin demir of swansea is a useful face to be seen with, nadir has been told. he could give him a bow. he could then trail behind lord aydin and pretend that they are cut from the same cloth in hopes that someone else may notice him through it. he could also pretend that it isn't sheer shamelessness to be clinging onto the lord's coattails for an ounce of status that means nothing to him.
nadir does one out of the three: a bow long and deep and far too polite for it to be sincere coming from him. aydin knows it just as well as he does, he's certain. the words that tumble out of his mouth only will reaffirm it. "my lord," he starts. it's a greeting that would've been otherwise perfectly gentlemanly if not for the curve of his lips into something much less than it. "has anyone asked for your hand already, i wonder? or asked you to ask for theirs?"
