ICWW Summit: Gala Dinner

The second day of the Summit had passed with deep discussion, political argument, and an insistence on both sides of the debate to change their vote from their original decision. Some countries had grown louder with exasperation when people could not see their point, others grew quieter as the political viewpoints of some of the larger, if not stronger countries were put out to others.

It had been a long, stressful day for all those involved, but for most, it would have been a useful conclusion to the Summit before the big vote tomorrow.

When finally the doors had closed on the 2pm, everyone headed off for high tea that afternoon to mull over the copious amount of points that had been covered by those representing their countries. It would be a lot of food for thought, that was for sure.

By 7pm, though, the conference room had been transformed for the Gala Dinner. Everyone was expected to be in attendance, to skip the event would have been rude in way too many manners. Guests were allowed to attend with each representative to make the night that much more enjoyable, and for five hours, each individual could forget about their vote that would be cast the next morning, and instead relax in to the scene of gaining international allies.

Whilst many of the representatives on the Summit might have believed their work to have been over after the second day's events, Louis and Vanessa Clement had not stopped in their work. The office on their ship was now covered in the pictures with a small flag of each country and their delegate, and thus far the stance the Clements expected them to take in the vote the following day.

Most, the duo had decided, would be sticking to their opening speeches, and their subsequent arguments. From there, it left them a smaller list of people whom they did not yet know enough about to know which way they would be voting.

The Clements never, ever, showed their hand until they had to. They never pitched fully for a side unless they were sure of an outcome, and thus their job was not done. The list of 'targets' for the evening had been agreed upon by the couple, and though they would be arriving to the Gala Dinner together, their evening would most likely be spent apart more than it would be together.

After the luncheon, Louis and Ven had placed their final notes by each country, before falling in to the lounger by the window for a brief moment's respite, Louis' arms wrapped around his wife as he allowed himself a moment in which his body simply relaxed from the tension of being alert to everything that day.

"Les enfants me manquent," Louis told his wife softly, knowing she'd understand that he meant the three of them in total. There was the briefest of moments, where the Lady Clement turned in her husband's arms to face him, a fond smile playing on her lips. A retort might have come, or some kind of insistence that it was only a few more days. That they were fine.

But, Louis didn't need the reassurance, instead opting to place the softest of kisses on his wife's lips in this small moment of being alone, peaceful, whilst the world tried to decide which way it was going to fall.

"Stay safe tonight, especially around the Somalian." Louis asked of her, ever so softly. He was not comfortable with their division of work, but Louis was quite sure Vanessa had been right. Putting Louis and the Somalian leader together, both of them being very strong personalities, was not going to lead towards a good end.

After Vanessa's promise to be safe, the clock had struck the fifth hour of the afternoon, and almost on cue the staff were coming in to the room, denoting Vanessa's bath to have been drawn and waiting for her. Louis' valet had come to enquire of his needs for the evening's dress, and both the Lord and Lady Clement were whisked away to get ready for their evening ahead once Louis had pressed a light kiss to his wife's hand as she got up before him to ready herself.

Shortly before seven, Louis stood just outside the door that Vanessa would come from for their evening. The Lord Clement didn't know his wife's chosen design, but the mention of 'needing to wear' the cufflinks Ven had gifted him on his birthday told Louis that his lady wife had decided to upstage the world. Not that he was surprised, the Lady Vanessa Clement outshone the whole world in Louis' eyes, without so much as trying.

It, therefore, came as no surprise when Vanessa emerged, looking so very beautiful in the gown she'd chosen for the evening. Louis' smile grew as he took her in fondly, offering her his arm in that moment to guide her towards the Ritz once more. "Tu es belle, ma chérie." Louis complimented in that moment, though the words were for the benefit of the staff emerging behind the Lady Clement, Vanessa would know from his features, his eyes, and not the words just how wonderful she looked in that moment.

***

The hall they'd been using for the Summit the past two days had almost been transformed in to something passable of a grand dinner. In the eyes of a Clement, however, the room looked much too bare, and very under decorated. Louis kept his features from showing such things, though, as he entered after Vanessa, allowing her to enter before him, and taking a glass from the waiter by the door for them both.

"Ready to dazzle, ma chérie?" Louis asked with a fond smile, before looking around to see if their 'targets' were here yet.


Les enfants me manquent -- I miss the children.
Tu es belle, ma chérie -- You look beautiful, my darling

Lucien stood in front of the mirror in their suite, straightening his tie and running his fingers through his hair as he waited for Rebecca. Though they didn't attend galas like this frequently, it was by no means unfamiliar territory. They'd been to their fair share of formal dinners and promotion events during his time in office. They both knew what such functions entailed--and what their purpose was.

Though Lucien would prefer to genuinely mingle for the sake of getting to know people, without any sort of angle, he understood the point of seeking out beneficial relationships. The gala was, for most people, an opportunity to make allies and glean information. Still, he personally wanted to place more emphasis on the relationships than the benefits, considering the strengthening of his political agenda to be a bonus, rather than a goal.

Rebecca exited the bathroom, and Lucien's breath caught in his throat momentarily before he broke into a grin and held his arm out for his fiance. He truly was a lucky man.

"You look stunning, as usual."

"Why thank you. You're not too shabby yourself," she said, gracefully taking his arm as they walked side by side out of the suite.

Rebecca was not overly fond of these events, but she knew the importance of putting on a good show. Her wand, as always, was concealed beneath her dress, but easily accessible should she need it. Her skirt was loose and allowed for easy movement. Though she may be off duty, she certainly wouldn't let her guard down. Her auror training had drilled into her the importance of constant vigilance, and tonight would not be an exception.

At a minute past seven, the couple strode into the conference room turned banquet hall with an understated sort of elegance. Lucien certainly didn't feel as grand as some of the other attendees, but he reminded himself that at the end of the day, they were all just human, and he shouldn't let himself be intimidated. He kept Rebecca close by his side, feeling safer and more confident with her beside him.

"Right," he breathed, so only his fiance could hear. "Ready to mingle?"

"Ready or not, the American delegate is heading this way."

"Oh, good. I was worried we'd have to approach someone ourselves."

She huffed a short laugh, then tugged his arm to walk forward and meet the Americans halfway. Lucien extended a hand to the other man when they'd closed the distance.

"Jackson! Nice to finally not be arguing with you. Who's this lovely lady?" He turned toward the American's date, grasping her hand as well and giving her a warm smile.

Drink.

Flesh.

Opulence.

Yusuf had more vices than he could count, so he never tried. However, one held a special place in his heart, khat. Chewing the comforting plant brought back memories. Memories of his first battle, his first wound, and his first wife all flowed together in a maddening frenzy when he partook. This evening, though, he restrained himself as he needed to keep his wits about him. After all, he had a job to do and a part to play.

He had always wanted to be an actor.

Dressed in billowing robes blacker than his skin, Yusuf strode into the gala with a sense of purpose and a glint in his eye. Each step sent a golden shimmer through his robes that couldn't quite be attributed to the ringlets of the metal on his fingers or around his neck, magic really was a wonderful thing. A proper set of robes, Yusuf liked to think, was very important in the wizarding world—an idea the other representatives seemed to disagree with.

And they had to the gall to call themselves wizards, laughable.

At his side walked a girl who looked to be in her early twenties. She wore a deep purple dress that hugged her body a bit too tightly in places but fell modestly to the floor nonetheless. This was his third wife...or was it his fourth? It didn't really matter either way, she would do for the evening.

Casting a glance that lingered neither too much nor too little on any one person, Yusuf navigated his way through the get-together—this was no party—with a practiced ease. He had hoped to speak with the British minister, but that could wait. In fact, it would have to wait for exactly, he stole a glance at his platinum watch, twenty minutes. His man had said twenty minutes, so twenty minutes it would be and not a moment more nor a moment less; the reaper waited for no man.

In the meantime, the Somalian interested himself in the open bar.

Surely a true Englishman would find his way there sooner or later.

Like hunting any big game it all came down to patience.