Hello there all! I apologize for the wait. My classes have started and I'm just now settling into a routine. Also my beta, Chelsey-Jorax-Diggory has been quite busy. Unfortunately this is not the beta-ed chapter but I have gone over it a hundred times. The beta-ed chapter will replace this later on. Sorry Chelsey I just felt like posting this chapter, it's been a while and I felt like I was hurting/teasing my readers by not posting anything for so long lol.
Anyways enjoy the chapter, feedback is welcome even if it is just a smiley face! Also please be nice, no mean comments unless they are to help me improve!
Disclaimer: I own nothing but Amber, Megan, and the plot. If I own Sherlock...well I can't say what I'd do, probably faint with joy lol!
Breaking the Barrier
[009]
By the time Saturday rolled around Amber had managed to cool off to the point where she could laugh at her original anger towards Sherlock. She had figured out the root of that anger, finding it had nothing to actually do to with the man himself but more with what he had suggested. It hadn't even been the idea of him acting as her fiance for the evening that bothered her, it had everything to do with the suggestion of using the engagement ring from her previous marriage as a prop for the rouse.
That ring had, at one point, meant the world to her. It had after all come from the first man she had truly loved, or thought she had anyways. So while that marriage hadn't lasted and her ex had passed the ring still meant something to her. The idea of it simply being a prop for an undercover situation had made her more than angry. It had upset and hurt her. She hadn't understood how Sherlock could have been so insensitive that he would suggest such a thing. Then again Sherlock wasn't someone who actually understood relationships and the affect they had on people.
Of course it had been a call and extended visit from her best friend Megan who had calmed her down. At least to the point where she didn't want to punch Sherlock anymore than she usually did. Megan had been the voice of reason, the one telling her to just take a deep breath, to think about Sherlock's personality and how that might have affected his suggestions and therefore explain his lack of understanding. It had taken several hours but eventually Amber began to realize her friend was right, as was usual when Amber overreacted emotionally.
Now she sat on a low backed chair with Megan standing behind her, a flat iron in hand plucking at Amber's curls. "Do you think I should actually flatten your hair? You look stunning when with it all messy and wild."
Amber tilted her head back to stare up at Megan. The woman was the opposite of herself, in everything including colouring. She was a brunette whose hair was straight as rain, eyes a rich deep brown, and skin which held a naturally light tan. Amber was ivory white, with bright green eyes and copper orange curls. While Amber was observant and somewhat organized, Megan was scatter-brained and could forget what she had eaten that very morning. Opposite as they might be they were as close as sisters. "I've always worn my hair straight to these events. Why stop now?"
"For one, if I straighten it than you're hair will be longer than it currently is. It'll need to be worn up then. Kind of hard to hide an ear piece if you hair is tied in a complicated up-do." Megan tapped her head lightly with the warm iron eliciting a playful growl from the redhead. "And second I think your hair looks better in it's natural state, as I've been saying for years now."
Amber sighed giving in to her friend's whim, after all she didn't have the actual time to flatten her hair herself. "Fine leave it down, I just don't think it's classy."
"Come on love. You're a curly redhead, just tell everyone you didn't have a chance to get to the hair dresser." There was the sound of a plug being pulled out of the wall. "Messy is the new classy anyways."
Amber snorted and stood up leaving the living room where she had been seated to go to the bathroom where her stash of makeup was located. She knew Megan would be following close behind. "If my hair is going all natural than my face is going to be pretty much bare," she said pulling out mascara, eyeliner, pale eyeshadow, and a clear gloss.
"I hate you," Megan snarled playfully as she sat on top of the closed toilet pulling one of her legs up to pull towards her chest.
"Why's that?" She asked pushing a head band through her hair so she could wash her face.
Megan gave an exaggerated sigh. "You're complexion that's why. Your skin has been clear since year ten plus it's so pale."
"The colour is genetics and a ton of sunblock. I burn far to easily and it hurts!" She exclaimed wiping her face clean of soap. "I also took care of my skin, even back then. You, my dear friend, did not." She patting down her face.
"Until you beat some sense in to me." There was light laughter from them both. Amber was happy for the girl time, having been away from her friends in Sussex for far to long. "Are you excited to be going on a date with Sherlock? When you talked about him at the party the other night you couldn't stop smiling."
Amber blushed despite herself feeling the urge to shove at her friend. "It is not a date Meg, it's work. I've told you a hundred times."
"You're fancying yourself up, slipping into a sexy dress, and putting on heels that could possibly be the death of you. It's a date, a work sanctioned date." This idea sent the brunette into a laughing fit as Amber rolled her eyes fishing for her makeup bag in the cabinet under the sink.
"If you don't shut up I'm sending you upstairs to annoy the men," she thought about that and all the trouble Megan could get into. "Never mind. I believe you'd embarrass me more up there than you do down here."
Megan just laughed some more as Amber began to apply as little makeup as she thought was right. She highlighted her eyes with brown liner, and used the same shade of mascara so her pale lashes weren't too dark. She was opening her eyeshadow when there was a knock on the door. "That would be Donovan with the wires I'm being forced to wear. Go get the door," she ordered her still giggling friend out of the bathroom so she could have some peace.
The woman did as ordered coming back moments later with a very annoyed Sergeant Sally Donovan. "Good afternoon," Amber greeted as she brushed off the excess eyeshadow leaning closer to the mirror to make sure that neither eyelid happened to be darker than the other. She had made that mistake several times in her life and didn't like the resulting comments.
"Yeah," the dark skinned woman uttered. "Why are you doing this?"
Amber intentionally misunderstood her. "Well you see when you go to a gala that means dressing up and makeup kind of goes hand in hand with that."
"No I mean going along with this. You aren't a cop." There was a sneer in the woman's voice but Amber just shrugged it off. Donovan really didn't like her to begin with, no use in getting her feathers all ruffled over yet another comment.
Pulling the headband from her hair she ran her fingers through it making it slightly more messy than it had been. She turned to look at Sally instead of looking at her through the mirror. "If you'd like to take my spot I'm sure Lestrade wouldn't put up much of a fight. That would mean going with Sherlock though," she taunted watching the Sergeant's face pinch in disgust. "Thought so and this isn't my first time doing undercover work."
"When?" Both Megan and Sally asked as they followed her to the bedroom where she walked into the closet. She flicked on the light proceeding to close the door nearly all the way. She left just enough space so that neither of the other woman in the room could see her but they could still hear her. The closet was just deep enough that she could turn in a circle and put on her dress, as long as she didn't trip over her collection of shoes.
"It was down in Sussex Meg. Remember the week you went home because your gran died?"
"Yeah."
"It was that week. There had been a string of robberies in some of the local museums, each one having been hit at least twice before the department started putting people on undercover jobs. Eventually the officers working the cases realized that they looked too much like cops, even while undercover." The sound of her unzipping a bag sounded through the room as it fell silent waiting for her to continue.
"So near the end of the that week the detective on the case approached me asking if I would mind going undercover since I did have some police training in my criminal justice classes in college. He said I was the least likely to actually look like a police officer since I wasn't technically one. I agreed and we managed to flush out the woman stealing a couple of days later. Turns out she was a temp worker, like the roll I was playing and had no problem spilling her secret to a fellow temp worker who needed money." Amber smiled brightly as she exited the closet to two surprised woman staring at her. She didn't know if it was the dress or her story that surprised them. "So where the hell are we putting the wire?" Her eyes twinkled brightly.
00000
Upstairs Sherlock stood in the living room tugging at the tie around his neck. He hated ties. They were uncomfortable and impractical and pretty much useless. That was why he never wore them if he didn't have to, which was almost always. Apparently tonight was the exception and he wasn't sure why.
"Stop fidgeting," John chided for the hundredth time in the last fifteen minutes.
Sherlock stalked from the mirror to violently throw himself into his chair. Lestrade was in the hall on his phone but clearly the man was amused by the smile he wore on his face while talking. Sherlock was not amused, far from it. He was angry that he had to wear something he didn't feel comfortable in and angry that he'd have the police talking in his ear all evening. He didn't want anyone else in his mind but himself.
He also found himself slightly nervous. This wasn't the first time he had gone 'undercover' so to speak and he knew it wouldn't be his last. This was, however, the first time he was involving a woman in the rouse, instead of having them play an unknowing roll in what he was about to do. Maybe it was the fact that this woman was Amber and not someone he had just randomly met. Maybe it was simply because it was Amber, the woman who made his stomach flutter and his heart race. He didn't even know what that meant really, just knew that she wasn't like the other woman he encountered and he liked having her in his life despite having known her for two weeks.
"I don't see why I need to wear a tie," he once again tugged at the offending piece of fabric around his neck.
"It was either that or a bow tie," John chuckled. "Amber said black tie and that means the event is going to be fancy. Fancy equals wearing a tie Sherlock. She's even bought a new dress for the event."
"That doesn't mean I needed new clothing. My wardrobe already had the proper articles of clothing for the gala," he huffed sullenly.
"You've worn that all."
"The point?" Sherlock said shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. Everything he wore was new, unworn, and stiff. It would hinder his motion if he had to do any sort of running that evening. It just didn't make any sense to him as to why he couldn't just wear what he usually did. Why had John insisted on getting him new clothing for an event he wasn't even legitimately attending for its intended purpose?
He heard John sigh once more. "The point being is that just because this is a case doesn't mean you can't look nice on a date with Amber."
"This isn't a date," this time the voice answering belonged to Amber herself. She stood in the door frame now, looking at both men who were seated in their chairs. Lestrade stood behind her, grinning over her shoulder as if he happened to be watching a very interesting television show with an interesting part about to begin. Both Sherlock and John got to their feet, both for different reasons. Sherlock for Amber and John for, well, the brunette that stood behind Amber smiling brightly.
Like on Halloween, Sherlock found his eyes glued to the woman before him. She looked beautiful, there was no other way he could explain how she looked. Her hair was worn loose, her makeup was understated, but it was the dress that caught him. He's seen stunning woman before, some more stunning than she was in that moment, but never had one actually caught his attention and held it so fiercely. The dress she wore was floor length and body hugging with one shoulder in a teal colour that made her skin look paler and her hair more vibrant. She wore pearl earrings and her former engagement ring, no other jewelry graced her otherwise.
After what felt like an eternity, Amber walked forward pulling the brunette along with her. Sherlock gave her the once over, figured out she was Megan and then went back to looking at Amber. "Everyone this is Megan. Megan this is Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade," she pointed to the DI then to Sherlock with a smile. "Sherlock Holmes, and finally Doctor John Watson," she finally pointed towards John.
"Hello," Megan waved to each of them and received two waves back. Sherlock didn't even notice her.
"Well don't you look nice," Amber said walked to Sherlock now. She reached up and straightened his tie, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She finally stepped back. "Thank you John for getting him into a tie. Was it hard?"
"It was either an actual tie or a bow tie," the other man shrugged as Amber just snorted.
"He made the right choice. A bow tie wouldn't have looked good on him." She patted Sherlock lightly on the cheek and gracefully walked to the couch to sit down, smoothing her dress under her. Megan took that as a cue to sit down as well. John sat, Sherlock sat, leaving Lestrade and Donovan standing there staring at the three of them in blatant disbelief and amusement.
"So how do we need to handle this?" Amber broke the silence in the room with a somewhat playful and amused smile. Sherlock still wasn't sure what to say to her. Did he say she looked lovely or should he just say she looked nice? Dealing with woman in a social fashion wasn't his strong suit.
"We have a list of donors, which you've gone over," Amber nodded at the DI. "So you know who will be there, some of them you already know from attending the event in the past others are new. You need to find whoever doesn't fit or isn't on the list. Keep an eye on the staff since they are provided through the hotel. When either of you find this person you will alert me through the microphones each of you are wearing. We couldn't find a way to use a camera that wouldn't look suspicious so we are playing this by ear and nothing more. You are not to approach a suspect or pursue a person who seems suspicious. Do you both understand me?" He ended on a serious note more for Sherlock's benefit rather than Amber's.
Amber gave a brief nod. Sherlock responded with, "Of course." It was clear he was lying but the DI gave a sharp nod knowing that nothing would come of him arguing with Sherlock.
"With traffic it should take twenty minutes to get to the Mandarin. They have a check in for events like this so if we leave now we should be able to get there relatively early." Getting up Amber looked around. "Damn, I'll be right back." She rushed off, holding the hem of her dress up revealing sliver heels of a neck breaking height. Despite the shoes she moved at a rather fast pace out of the flat and down the stairs. Sherlock wondered if she actually enjoyed heels, she had just been complaining about them the other night after all yet here she was wearing another pair of them.
John and Megan shared a look and a shrug of their shoulders as Sherlock stood, gathered his coat and headed down the stairs followed by pretty much everyone else in the building. The only one absent from the melee was Mrs. Hudson who had decided she wouldn't be needed and gone out for the evening.
He waited outside in the cold fall night. A sleek black car, reminiscent of what his brother used for transportation, was parked on the street in front of the building. It had been rented by Amber for the evening. He knew this because the Scotland Yard would not have allowed any money to be spent on such an amenity despite the status of this being an undercover operation. That left Amber to be the one renting the car. If this was going to work, Sherlock knew that taking this car would help paint Amber and himself as an innocent couple out for the night, not a couple of people working for the police. The redhead kept proving herself more intelligent as the days went by.
"Sorry," he heard Amber's voice, turning slightly to see her now wearing a black pleated peacoat over her dress to ward off the cold. She even had a small clutch with a strap around her wrist. "Ready?" She questioned with a somewhat nervous smile.
"Yes, of course," Sherlock opened the door for her. She slipped in still smiling all the while watching him. Once they were both inside the car Lestrade took hold of the door to lean in so he could speak with both of them.
"Don't do anything stupid," he ordered giving Sherlock a glare, implying that he wasn't worried about Amber so much as the man who was supposed to be keeping her safe. "If anything goes wrong don't be afraid to leave," that was directed at Amber because he knew Sherlock wouldn't leave even if it came down to his life being threatened.
"Will do," she gave a mock salute grinning now as she received an eye roll from the DI.
"Just behave." The door was slammed, the top of the car was tapped in a universal gesture that said the driver could go.
"The driver knows where to go and the van will be following behind in a couple of minutes. They'll park across the street from the hotel," Amber spoke to fill the silence of the car. "I'm sorry for yelling the other day in Lestrade's office. It was inappropriate."
"Of course it was." Amber blinked in his direction a couple of times with her mouth gaping. When he noticed this he decided to expand a little one what he meant. "I merely suggested a solution to help ease our way into the gala and you became angry. It was inappropriate as you said."
"Dear lord you really don't know why I was angry do you?" Amber slouched back, ladylike mannerisms all but forgotten as she looked at him.
"There was no reason to be."
She snorted, "My, you are an idiot." She found herself giving a light airy laugh of disbelief at the man she sat beside.
"How so?" He looked at her seeing a flare of anger in her eyes as they passed a street light. He didn't understand but he really wanted to.
She resisted the urge to rub her eyes. "You suggested that I use my old engagement ring as a bloody prop!" Her voice was raised but she wasn't shouting, not just yet at least.
"Yes and I see you are wearing it now." He nodded to her finger where the ring sat. As a subconscious movement she began to twist the ring around her finger. He knew she wasn't quite aware of what she was doing because she continued to do it even as he looked at her hand. He wondered why. Nervousness maybe? No, she's remembering and she isn't to happy.
"This ring isn't just a prop Sherlock and having it suggested as one upset me. I wore it for years out of love."
He scoffed at the mention of love. "Love is just a chemical reaction. It has nothing to do with lasting feelings."
"You wouldn't know," she mumbled under her breath falling silent while looking out the window.
The silence left him to think about what she had just said. Did she still love her ex-husband, the one who was killed by a drunk driver after their divorce, or was it the memories that caused her to react in such a manner? It was true he didn't understand love. It made no sense to him. Love could be explained by a simple chemical reaction in the brain, the same reaction that accompanied lust or sexual desire. Love was also a social custom, one that helped pave the way for reproduction. Love was a weakness and it could get people killed. It had gotten people killed.
"Just don't mention my marriage again, or anything involving it. Things will be better between us that way." Her voice was soft, filled with a little hurt, but it held a tone of finality that said if he did mention anything again she wouldn't just sit there and take it.
"I won't." He answered though he was more curious about her former husband now more than ever. What had that man done to earn such loyalty from the redhead? And why does it matter to me?
Amber looked at him while he sat there thinking. "Have you ever been to a gala or anything of that sort?"
He nodded. "I have attended some over the years, for cases like this but never have I had someone attending with me." He spoke truthfully. There was no point in lying to her, she'd probably see right through it. "How many of these have you attended?"
"The founders have been hosting this gala since their second year which was five years ago. I went to the first three but I missed last year due to work. I hadn't actually planned on attending this year."
"Who do you take with you?"
"Before my sisters went missing I managed to take them each once to a gala. The one following their disappearance I went alone." She gave lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "It is more fun to go with someone, that I've learned."
He heard the tone in her voice, the longing and sadness as she mentioned her siblings. "You miss them." It was not a question but more of a statement.
She gave a slow nod rolling her head to look at him. "Yeah, I miss them. I think what hurts the most is that I don't even know if Brianna is alive or if she is rotting at the bottom of the Thames."
"After three years you still believe she might be alive?"
She shrugged this time, halfheartedly. "I don't know what I believe anymore."
When she didn't explain nor mention anything else Sherlock had to fight the moment of sadness he felt for the woman. Why did he feel like comforting her when he had never felt that urge before in his life? He didn't understand what he was feeling or why he was feeling it. He just knew that he felt for her and that he didn't quite mind it in the least.
He kept himself just as silent as she did as the car made its way towards the Mandarin Oriental Hyde Park Hotel where the gala was held every year, or so he had learned from Lestrade. He knew that the hotel was a high-end one in which the rich often spent holidays so it was only logical that a gala in which he had to wear a tie would be held in such a place.
As soon as the car pulled into the line of others waiting to unload their passengers Sherlock watched as Amber snapped out of whatever place she was in her mind. She plastered a smile on her face. To anyone but him, and probably those who were extremely close to her, she would look happy. However, he saw the lack of a spark in her eye, as if she didn't want to actually be there and was only playing a part in a play. He was worried that it was he who had put her in that mood.
Sherlock was the first one out of the car doing the proper thing and going around to help Amber out. They were after all playing a couple and it was necessary to act the part. As soon as her hand touched his he heard her gasp while he felt the shock run straight through his arm. In their two, going on three weeks, of knowing one another she had never actually touched him skin to skin. She had used him to help get booties off her feet after the young girl's murder but this time it was her bare hand on his bare hand. The feeling was like a shock straight through him. Like every feeling he had while around her, he wasn't familiar with the one he felt nor did he understand it. All he knew was that it was pleasant and he didn't want it to stop.
He felt the strength in that hand as he pulled her gracefully from the car. As she came to stand on her feet he looked into her eyes, searching for anything that would say she felt the same electric shock he had. "Thank you," she finally said keeping her hand in his as he shut the door with his free hand.
He walked her around the back of the car and helped her up the curb. He was concerned that she would trip. He still had yet to figure out how woman walked in those death traps they labeled as shoes. Yet Amber seemed to have the hang of them, even as he placed a hand at the small of her back to lead her into the hotel, as would be normal with a couple engaged to be married. "We've known each other for three years now, I just proposed seven months ago before the rumors and media coverage, if anyone is to ask. We met while you were in London taking a weekend from Sussex."
"How exactly did we meet then?" She caught on fast as to what he was referring to, understanding that in the kind of group they were about to enter they would need a back story.
"You chose," he said lazily, knowing that she would enjoy getting to make up that part of the lie.
Her eyes did widen with joy, the first he had seen since they had got into the car. "Oh, lets see. If I was on a weekend everyone here would know it was only to drop into Scotland Yard to see if they had received any more clues to my sisters' disappearances. So lets say I literally ran into while walking into the Yard. You were leaving and I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I spilled my coffee all over you. I was so upset that you offered to buy me a new coffee. We exchanged numbers and the following weekend we went to dinner on me because I stained your suit. In the end you paid and we've been dating ever since."
"Sounds reasonable enough, something that would have happened to anyone." He saw her smile with a little bit of a blush in her pale cheeks. "You're blushing. You seem to do that a lot."
She turned her head away from him for a moment. "I'm pale skinned and I've always been easy to blush. Lord I looked a tomato when I took a public speaking class in University."
"You speak well enough, why would you need that kind of class?" He questioned as she lead him to the check in area near the ballroom of the hotel. It was simply a podium with a man in coattails standing behind it, a slim book on the counter before him.
Amber chuckled. "I am in a profession where I have to sit on a stand and explain to a court what I believe happened with only photographic evidence. I hadn't been very good with speaking in front of large groups of people until I took that class. I believe passing out the first time helped some. Nothing more embarrassing than fainting in front your classmates and being rushed to the ER for a gash on my forehead." Her laugh twinkled as they approached the man who had watched them since entering.
"Name please sir," the man spoke to Sherlock.
Amber's brow raised as she cleared her throat. Sherlock actually grinned. She looked completely and utterly offended that the man would assume that Sherlock was the invited party and she the mere guest. "The name is Amberlyn Devons." She snapped lightly causing the man's eyes to widen in shock and embarrassment before scanning down the list.
"I apologize Miss Devons. I should not have assumed." He was almost tripping over himself. "May I ask your guests name?"
"Sherlock Holmes," she responded before Sherlock himself could open his mouth.
"Holmes? The man who came back from the dead."
"Technically I was never dead and yes." Oh how he was getting tired of hearing that. Everyone asked when they first heard his name.
"We're glad to have you both." The man smiled without saying much of anything else concerning Sherlock. "You are one of the first few people to arrive. If you would like to go to the bar I'd be more than happy to gather you when more people arrive."
Amber gave a nod. "That would be lovely," she said dragging Sherlock by the arm gently towards the bar.
"We really should go into the ball room now," he said trying to direct her back to the ballroom.
"People know who you are Sherlock and they know that you work with the police quite often. If we go in there now anyone coming in after us will see you. If the killer happens to be a guest do you think it would be wise to tip him off by being so blatantly apparent? He might just flee before entering. This way if he is already in there when we come in, he can't flee without looking suspicious." During her speech she managed to get him to the bar and was now holding the door for him to enter.
He looked at her, surprised she had worked something out that he had not. "You are clever."
"Thank you," she said with a flourish as she waltzed to the bar in order to get a drink.
Disbelief coloured his mind as he followed slowly behind watching her take off her coat to gently place it on the back of the chair at the bar. He caught a good look at the pale skin of her back as he walked up behind her. He had an unbelievable urge to run his finger tips over that skin to see if it was a smooth and soft as it looked. She was so delicately pale but he knew that she was anything but delicate. He had learned that already.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked as she slipped into the chair giving him what he could only call a lovely smile. Apparently they were playing their rolls once more.
"No, someone will have to keep you in check," he said watching her eye twitch as he pulled a chair closer to hers.
"I'll have a screwdriver," she said to the bartender before he could even ask. "Nothing for him. Thank you." She smiled some more as they waited for their drinks.
"So remember how you proposed?" She couldn't ask the question openly so she had to ask it as a girlfriend would to a boyfriend. Both of them heard chuckling in their ears, courtesy of Lestrade and his band of merry men. At least they had respect enough not to say anything until that moment. They both knew that everyone had heard the conversation in the car.
He gave her a thoughtful smile. "Hm I remember like it was yesterday. We had taken a trip to Scotland so you could visit your parents' graves. You were so depressed at the hotel and it hurt me so much to see you like that. I took you out to dinner and when dessert came I dropped to one knee and asked you to marry me. It put a smile on your face, I had never see you happier than in that moment."
Her eyes laughed now, even as there was laughter in their ears. Her drink was set in front of her.
"You shouldn't be drinking Amber. You're on a case," Lestrade's voice rang out above the laughter.
"It's one drink, it won't kill me," she murmured and despite still hearing Lestrade tell her no she took a sip of the drink. "Ha," she said enjoying the subtle taste of expensive vodka and orange juice. It wasn't a strong nor a large drink.
Minutes ticked by as they both sat there, the occasional chirp of annoyance from Lestrade breaking the silence. Both of them ignored the man until he mentioned something about more people showing up at the hotel, dressed in a similar fashion to both Sherlock and Amber. Taking that as their cue, Amber shot back the rest of her drink, which at that point wasn't much, paid the tab, and slid off the chair.
Sherlock took her coat, draping it over his arm along with his. "We can check those at the front desk," Amber suggested. He nodded and jogged off to do that allowing her to make her way from the bar to the ball room. He joined her moments later and they were allowed into the ball room following behind several dozen before who were checking in for the gala.
"Here we go," Sherlock heard Amber mumbled under her breath. Sherlock offered his arm to her and she promptly linked her arm through his and smiled to him as they entered the ball room.
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