“You’re not very good at this, are you?”

Jamie (as graceful as ever) kept pace with John as they walked across the room. Statesmen and nobles chatted easily in nooks and crannies of the gilded parlor that gave way to the suites. Gentle light suffused the room, giving it a warm feeling at odds with the stuffiness of it all. If left on her own, Jamie would have glided around as if on a cloud. She’d have read the room, sidled up to the most influential people there, and made them feel at ease. It didn’t surprise John that a former prostitute could have a talent for reading and responding to subtle cues, but it did feel a little at odds that she’d have learned the skill while he did not. Then again, his Salvaran titles had been stripped from him nearly twenty years ago, so there was that. She poked him in the ribs.

He spared her a glare.

“Please relax, dear,” She said, returning her hand to the crook of his elbow.

“Hard to relax when you’re the least welcome person at the party,” He grumbled, lumbering toward one of the rooms. The sooner he was out of this coat, the sooner he’d stop walking like a golem. A particularly clumsy golem.

As they reached one of the rooms and John ducked his head to get through the doorway, a shout rose from somewhere near one of the stairways.

Murder

John’s skin prickled. Here? Would they think John was to blame? There was, after all, a good reason he was stripped of his titles. He locked eyes with Jamie, she understood his past better than most. She knew as much as he did that he’d need to be there. She sighed a little and tugged at his coat, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be along in a minute, but leave the coat, ok? You know how many tailored coats we’ve got at the house that fit a seven and a half foot tall man? One, and only because I dragged you to the tailor,” She said, smirking a little as she touched up her makeup a little.

“What, you’re scared for the coat but not for me?” John asked, struggling with the stuffy coat. How many buttons did the damned thing have? He eventually managed to untangle himself from the thing, and left it on a hook as he tried to seem nonchalant walking towards the stairwell, descending. If there was a murder, he needed to see the body. He needed to make sure it wasn’t the friend he’d come to meet.

John moves to the ballroom