17 May, 1895 — A Party, Destiny Hotel, London

Don Juan was in high spirits coming off of his impromptu holiday with Hudson in Paris (well, holiday for him; Hudson had been working), but home wasn't the place for it to last. Home had always been his parents' domain, technically speaking, but for long sections of his life it had felt as though they just all happened to live there, and being at home meant drifting past his parents or siblings but mostly doing as he pleased. Now that the court date for Kaatjie had been confirmed — and after his unceremonious disappearance earlier this month — it seemed as though every moment he was home someone wanted him. He was being rushed off to meet with the solicitor, or he was being queried about Kaatjie's favorite color as if there was any hope of his knowing, or or or. It was difficult to be at home without being forced to think about the trial, so he was doing his best to find other places to be whenever he could.

He hadn't been invited to this party tonight, but at a place like the Destiny Hotel there were too many doors to properly prevent anyone from crashing the event. He had gone from the London street to the smoking pavilion, then found a group to make conversation with and came inside when they did. Now he was in the ballroom proper, with two options: either make himself unobtrusive in the hopes of not being noticed by anyone who knew he wasn't on the guest list, or make himself so much a focal point that it would have been a spectacle for them to try to remove him.

He had never been the best at being unobtrusive. Time to make some waves, then. He picked out the youngest and most innocent-looking girl in attendance, the one surrounded by the most protective family members, and swooped in to ask for a dance. The girl looked star-struck; her mother looked scandalized. Don Juan lead her to the floor and felt he could already hear whispers following them. This really was too easy, once one had a reputation.

He spent their dance lavishing her with compliments and roguish smiles and sultry looks any time the dance put her even briefly in profile to him. She hardly knew what to do with herself. When the song ended he kissed her hand and released her to her crowd of hovering family members, then strode off to get himself a punch. While there he caught from the corner of his eye someone striding to him with apparent purpose, and supposed it was likely either the hostess to demand to know what he was doing or some relative of his last dance partner with much the same question.

"Would you like the next dance?" he asked as she approached, to cut off any lecture before it could start — then realized he recognized the woman who had walked over to him. "Oh. Miss Capobianco," he said in greeting, expression having changed dramatically on recognizing her from playful and willful to the look of someone caught in their own mischief. "A pleasure."

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Sybella Capobianco

  

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MJ made this <3

To say that watching Mr. Dempsey unequivocally woo poor Miss Simpson was amusing would be the understatement of the night. Sybella had caught a glimpse of him earlier in the evening and had been about to make her way towards him when he’d struck up the scene, conducting it like one would an orchestra. Miss Simpson was, for all intents and purposes, the perfect debutante for Mr. Dempsey to make a scene with. She was flustered, doe eyed and rather a waif if Sybella was in the mood to be critical — as if the poor girl would snap in half should anyone so much as sneeze in her direction.

Perhaps it would have been better for him to have sneezed on her because when he full on kissed her, Sybella thought Miss Simpson would need to be fetched some smelling salts. But no, she was let go from the net that was Mr. Don Juan Dempsey (honestly, what were his parents thinking, naming him that? They might as well have named him Byron.) and she had all but collapsed into her family’s arms where they proceeded to tut about, absolutely scandalized at what had just happened.

Before he strode off too far, Sybella snapped her fan shut, excused herself from her conversation partner, picked up her matching blue skirts and made her way towards him with haste. His immediate question saw a wry smile slip onto her features which intensified even further when recognition hit. At least he had the decency to look sheepish. “Is it, Mr. Dempsey?” She mused with gleeful admonishment. “Because it seems you had such great pleasure giving Miss Simpson quite an education just now, that I fear my presence might prove quite the disappointment!”

dress

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

"A disappointment?" he said, arching an eyebrow. Her unexpected appearance here had briefly put him on the backfoot, but he was climbing back towards his charming party persona quickly. "Not a chance."

He shouldn't have been surprised to see her here, given that they had met at another society event (albeit a rather more chaotic one than this). But their last night together, in the aftermath of a stranger's overdose, had very firmly cemented her position in his mind. She belonged to that crowd, to that life, to the things he was trying to put behind him. It was as jarring to see her stroll up to him here as it would have been if one of his usual dealers had walked over and palmed him a full bottle of liquid opium, though he could at least recognize that this was an illogical reaction. She was a healer, after all; she had to be at least somewhat respectable, even if she had a history. She had probably been invited to this party, rather than sneaking in through the smoking door.

"Did you want a dance?" he asked, with a nod towards the floor.

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MJ made this <3

Now this seemed to be more like the man she’d expected to encounter before that one night where she’d been called to the party for Kitty’s overdose. Though she had gathered from his display and the resulting whispers that had engulfed the crowd during it, that he had not received an invitation but had simply decided to: show up.

It was all rather delightful, if you asked Sybella. Some of these parties could be such a drag, and aside from Kitty’s night, Mr. Dempsey had proved to be a bit of a wild card, which suited her just fine.

“I think I’d love one, actually,” She agreed, holding out her gloved hand where the dance card dangled like a noose. “I’m afraid I promised the next one to an absolute - erm - wet doily of a man -” That was really putting it kindly, the poor Mr. Whatshisname. “But I’m sure he wouldn’t mind being bumped down a dance.”

dress

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

Don Juan wasn't sure if he'd expected her to say yes or to lecture him for having asked in the first place. Even though they had only interacted a few times previously he felt she had the authority to lecture him; the sudden intimacy of their last meeting had thrust them into a position of... perhaps not friends, but something more than mere acquaintances. Miss Capobianco didn't seem to be in a mood to lecture tonight, though. Don Juan took a cursory glance at her dance card as she held it out, but didn't bother leaning in to try and read the names and available spaces once she pronounced that the next man on the list was a wet doily.

"Well, even if he does," he said in a pleasant tone, taking her hand and sweeping towards the dance floor. "What is he to do, challenge me to a duel?"

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MJ made this <3

A triumphant smile crossed her features; she was glad none of that seemed to deter Mr. Dempsey from leading her onto the dance floor. Sybella’s eyes might have briefly flickered over to Mr. - ah, Mr. Marlowe was the chap’s name! - who seemed to be rather put out that he’d been shoved to the back of the queue, but she was a little too amused by the situation to care overmuch.

Accepting his hand, Sybella gave Mr. Dempsey an amused look. “And what if I were to entertain a duel between you and him?” She murmured as they took their positions.

dress

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

Don Juan's smile twisted wryly at her question. "Oh, Miss Capobianco," he said with a shake of his head. "I somewhat infamously fail to appear at duels." Maybe she hadn't heard about the Yaxley ordeal; maybe she hadn't been in England then. Even so, he couldn't let a joke about his performance in duels pass by, given that it was still the most infamous chapter of his whole sordid history. Though perhaps the custody trial was liable to eclipse it, depending on what happened this summer.

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MJ made this <3

“Ah!” Sybella let out as dainty as a guffaw as she could manage after having just been reminded of what had taken place between Mr. Dempsey and the poor Yaxley fellow. “Mmm well there goes that plan,” She muttered dryly, as if she actually had any sort of plan. “Here I was hoping you’d be my knight in shining armor and sweep me off my feet!” She canted a brow at him, eyes narrowed and lips curved in a joking smile. “I suppose I’ll just have to settle with you sweeping me off my feet during this dance.”

dress

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

"Or you could throw yourself into some other sort of danger and hope I prove up to the challenge of rescuing you from it," he suggested blithely. Hopefully she didn't take him up on that; he wasn't one for anything more than performative heroics. All of the practical magical expertise had gone to one of his other siblings. Don Juan was pretty, and that was about the most that could be said for his redeeming qualities. Well — he was also a fairly good dancer, when it came to it. Maybe they'd best stick with the plan of him sweeping her off her feet on the dance floor.

"What's to be my reward for charming you tonight?" he continued, still in the playful tone. "Will you bestow a favor on me?"

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MJ made this <3

It was a fairly simple dance to follow, one that didn’t separate them as a couple and allowed them this close conversation. For Sybella, she could feel the anticipatory hum of delight beneath her skin as she danced, her focus on the man in front of her. She’d had a long day working a shift and while she’d been having fun at the party before, the appearance of Mr. Dempsey and subsequent company that he provided was proving to be even more of an uplifting experience than she’d hoped for.

“Charming me?” She volleyed back easily with a husky laugh. “I don’t remember saying you succeeded in charming me, did I? What favor would you ask of if I said you’d succeeded?”

dress

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

"I hadn't even started yet," he shot back. Did she think him so lazy as that, to do four or five steps of the dance and presume he'd seduced her? Surely she suspected better of him than that... though perhaps, given how quickly the blushing debutante had fallen apart during his last dance, she had lower expectations of the rest of her sex. "I wanted to know what my prize would be to determine if it was worth the effort of trying."

Not that he would have been off to an excellent start if he did decide to try now. Flirting openly with someone else, clearly with the intention of making mischief, and then demanding a promise of a reward before he did much of anything was hardly the way to make himself properly charming. Fortunately neither of them were serious. She had seen him entirely too much at his ends to ever consider him attractive or appealing at this point, he was sure. The odds of any encounter they had ending in seduction seemed to be in the negatives, to him, which meant the stakes on banter like this were low as could be. For that reason he was decidedly more brash in his answer to her question than he might have been with nearly anyone else. "A favor of a kiss, perhaps," he said with a mischievous tone. "To be claimed at some future date. And I might leave you in agony wondering when and where I intended to claim it."

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MJ made this <3

Her brows shot up at the realization his game hadn’t even started yet. Well, she supposed, with him having tried and succeeded to reduce Miss Simpson to a fluttering mess, perhaps that was a small example of it. From where Sybella was standing, it wasn’t nearly a good enough attempt at anything other than pique her amusement. “Your prize?” She echoed with a scoff.

“Why Mr. Dempsey I had no idea your ideals were that arcane!” She teased. “What with a family so delightfully unconventional as yours -” Poets, spinsters, even a sister whose former husband was a ghost! “- I’d have suspected something a bit more creative than a mere kiss. I’ve been left in a great deal more agony for less,” That was perhaps a door unlocked into a more sinister time in her life, so she quickly brushed over it. “Should I be insulted that a simple kiss is all you’d like for what I can promise you is a rather significant hurdle?”

dress

  

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Sybella speaks with a slight Italian accent.
Her family is well known throughout the Sicilian Mafia; if your character is attuned within those circles, they might know who she is.

"You haven't guessed when I intended to claim it, then," he said, voice and eyes both full of mischief. "I can promise you, Miss Capobianco, a kiss is all I would need to ruin you."

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MJ made this <3