ICWW Summit: Gala Dinner

An easy grin decorated Jackson's face as his Canadian counterpart approached him, the joking greeting putting him at ease. If Americans had a certain perception of Canadians being too nice, Lucien certainly wasn't doing anything to rectify that as he warmly shook hands with the other wizard.

"What you call "arguing" we call "Sunday Brunch with grandma" state side," Jackson laughed before reaching for the lady's hand and giving it a quick polite kiss. When asked who Sasha was, the man beamed proudly. "I'd like to introduce my girlfriend, Ms. Sasha Denvers. She's from the UK and has graciously decided to accompany me to this Summit so I don't look like the loner I usually am."

After Judith, Jackson had rather amassed a certain reputation when it came to attending function with stock dates rather than an interesting girlfriend or commuted fiance. The reason being he had never felt ready to date after that unfortunate incident. now though, the man was ready for a change.

"Though I should be asking you who the lovely lady is," he threw back, respectfully taking in the woman beside Lucien. Her face seemed familiar, making him think about law enforcement figures for some reason. Perhaps the woman had turned up in his research of the Canadian Royal Mounties?

All around them, dignitaries and politicians were flocking, from the diamond studded Clements to the eyesore shimmering in gold that as the Somalian arrival. Jackson tried not to gaze too much at the diminutive looking girl in purple beside the dark skinned man, he'd learned Somalia wasn't big on women's rights.

"It looks like the generation gap exists even in politics," he commented, amused. To demonstrate his point, Jackson gestured towards the mingling parties. The British Minister had found solace in the company of the Somalian while the French and German representatives took to the dance floor. All around, people were finding comfort in drinks and conversation, and the man wondered how many actually had politics on their minds.

Lucien laughed comfortably with his American counterpart as they eased into a casual conversation.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Denver," he remarked sincerely. "Lucky for you two that America and the UK happen to agree on this particular issue, eh?"

As Jackson turned his attention to Rebecca, the auror smiled and introduced herself. "Rebecca Dyer."

"My fiance," Lucien added. "Though that's hardly the most important thing about her."

Rebecca may not be a politician herself, but she was smart and confident, and new how to hold her own in a conversation. She'd also been paying attention to the issue at hand--after all, it affected her too. She'd been helping him with his research and arguments for the past few months, and reading through his notes on the other delegates' stances after each day of debates. She was certainly educated enough to argue the subject on her own, and could probably carry out his duties just as well as he could if she wanted to. He'd trust her completely if they were ever to split up during the gala and engage the other delegates individually. That being said, they had no such plans--they both preferred to stick together, and Rebecca was much more comfortable as an auror than as a politician. She was perfectly happy to sit back and let Lucien do his own job.

"Indeed," Lucien agreed with the American's remark as he too glanced around the room. "And to think, I was just starting to feel old before I got here. Now I feel like a newbie all over again. You'd think twelve years would be enough time to feel like you know what you're doing."

Yusuf's gaze lingered on the mirror behind the well-stocked bar for a few more heartbeats than was polite before turning the British Minister of Magic.

"Evening Minister," he offered with some effort before flashing a crooked grin of white, yellow, and gold. "I am well. This is Aaminna, my wife."

He gestured to the shorter woman at his side as if he were pointing out the newest car in his garage. The woman smiled meekly at Kamren and inclined her head ever so slightly, but said nothing.

"Would you buh-lieve we've been married for ten years?"

The warlord's eyes narrowed ever so slightly here in anticipation of some kind of reaction to his question. After all, it didn't take a mathematical genius to subtract ten from twenty-three. He loved to watch the way people squirmed when faced with an affront to their normal sensibilities.

"One Whiskey and another shot of vodka," the bartender interjected with an entirely unnecessary flourish common to his line of work as he passed the amber drink to Kamren and the clear to Yusuf. "Let me know if there's anything else you need."

Giving the bartender a curt nod, Yusuf's gaze drifted from Kamren and to the glass of clear liquid. In a fluid motion of well-kept habit, he unwrapped a silver rune-etched chain from his wrist, dipped it into his drink, and pulled it out before putting it back on his wrist. Finding nothing awry, he nodded to himself and returned his attention to Kamren—poisoning would be a nasty way to go.

"What do we drink to?"

To make his intent clearer he raised his glass and waited with hungry black eyes set on the Minister of Magic.

Chuckling slightly as Lucien's remarks on feeling old before the summit, Jackson shook his head, his dark curls swaying gently with the motion. While most of his colleagues were fans of hair gel, Jackson had never seen much point in it and today was no different. 'I don't know," he replied with a friendly twinkle in his eye. "I'll let you know when I reach twelve years of service." The implication was simply a friendly dig at Lucien being older than him, in truth Jackson was approaching ten years of this, and yet he still felt unsure most days.

At his comment of the UK and US being on the same side, Jackson pulled a mock serous face, however the amusement in his eyes gave the show away. "Sasha and I rarely talk politics, the lady has much better things to do with her time, I'm told." He managed easily before reaching fondly for the redhead's hand. "She's a senior at university, so I'm glad she can give me the time of day let alone expect her to give my line of work the same attention."

Turning to the Canadian delegate's fiance, he asked politely. "And what about you, Ms. Dryer? What do you think of this whole shindig? Have you managed to have some fun on this trip? Because Lucien here looks like all he does is work. Makes us lazies look bad to be quiet honest with you."

Family, now there was a novel concept in Yusuf’s opinion. He had more sons and daughters than he could count on both hands. A few died, others were killed, and most fell into obscurity never knowing their true father. He never felt overly attached to any one child or wife for that matter; family meant very little to him. Instead, he found camaraderie in his lieutenants and those foolish enough to become his short-lived confidants.

“One can never be too careful,” the Somalian shrugged at the Minister’s nativity in the face the very real threat of poisoning. “Especially with…”

He paused here gesturing to the crowd of delegates with his glass.

“…these people.”

Poison, of course, was a coward’s weapon. Yusuf much preferred to be in the moment; to watch as his target breathed their last. The other delegates, however? From what the warlord could tell, every single one of them were cowards to the core, so poison was not out of the question. It would be such an anti-climactic way to die.

“To the ‘right way’ then,” Yusuf agreed, before draining his drink in a single gulp. Unfortunately, he knew the man across from him to not be truly drinking to the ‘right way’. No, voting to uphold the statute of secrecy was not the ‘right way’, but rather the fool’s way and Yusuf was no fool, not that anyone yet knew this considering his evasiveness the past two days on the point.

“Another drink,” he called to the barkeep seemingly ignoring Kamren’s question on his position.

The barkeep wasted no time in topping off another glass for the Somalian.

“Thank you,” with drink in hand Yusuf turned to his wife and switched to fluid Somali. “Aaminna, my dear, amuse yourself. I must speak with this man.”

Once more the woman said nothing but nodded and turned away to talk with the bartender in broken English worse than Yusuf’s act.

“M-minister shall we walk?” He asked, turning back to Kamren. “There are too many ears here.”

He had no intention to tell the Western swine his opinions on the matter of the vote, but said swine did not know this. When going after sharks one needed to chum the water a bit; bleed a little to show some type of vulnerability and information was the blood of politics the world over. To make his intentions clear, Yusuf began to make his way through the crowd to the large open-air balcony.

“My father was a Muggle,” Yusuf spoke conversationally as the pair hopefully made their way through the crowd—better to speak of something innocuous. “He is the reason why I’ll vote the way I will...”

He trailed off as they neared the balcony, there was a full moon—even the most bloodthirsty warlord could appreciate the wonders of nature.