Cora met her date with a slight bruise on his forehead.
"Lydia get pissed?" she asked. Salven scowled.
"No." he told her cuttingly. "I fell."
"Did she help you fall?"
"You're not going to let me forget this, are you?"
"Atta boy, you catch on quickly." Cora sighed. She was afraid to move awkwardly - the way that she had been dressed was most ridiculous. She was swathed in a dark red gown - almost a black - that didn't reveal anything, but it clung and hinted. She had also been outfitted in heels, and her hair was done in what she supposed was a stylish way - a multitude of narrow beaded braids. Whenever Cora moved her head, the beads clicked together.
This was what they put together for a stealth expert?"
"You look nice." Salven said.
"If you pinch my ass, then I'll shoot you, I'm not even joking." Cora threatened.
"Where would you keep the gun?" Salven said, with an expression that said that if the gun was in the location that he suspected, then he would be up for a treasure hunt.
"On my thigh. No touchy, or you'll lose your head." the death threat was automatic, but Salven sighed. They headed towards a reception room. The halls here were more for guests, and hence small paintings and green plants lined the halls. Cora grimaced - it may be prettier here, but it was still made for combat. The green herbs had healing powers for open sores and cuts.
There was a small knot of people outside of the reception hall. Turnbull broke off to say hello to them.
"Bonjour, Cora!" he said cheerfully.
"Bonjour, Cora." a familiar voice echoed at his side. To Cora's surprise, Irene Dinzali was perched on Turnbull's arm.
"What a surprise, Irene. Or do you still want me to call you Trainer Dinzali?" Cora offered a hand.
"I'm just Miss Talbot now, Cora." Irene gave a weak smile.
"Hugh Dinzali was killed in combat a month ago." Turnbull confided.
"So you're just going to forget him?" Cora asked, mouth hanging open slightly.
"Shrouding myself in black will not do any good." and Irene stalked off.
"She is a bit touchy." Turnbull confided. "Wait, Irene! I'll get you some punch."
"We are the only sane ones left." Salven said, shaking his head.
"No, you and I."
"What?"
"You and I are not a we." Cora told him. Salven shrugged, then grinned again as they headed into the reception room. They really had gone all out for this events - not just the streamers and old Christmas lights strung up across the room that Cora remembered vaguely at her first party in Mexico and had half expected here.
The floor was tiled with blue and gold, and the walls were the same - lavished with every shade of blue from an almost white to an almost black, and sliced through with gold here and there in a way that made Cora's mind reel. There was a long, white table stretching across the expanse of the room, lavished with treats. Cora counted seven bowls of punch, and enough food to feed a small army - everything from corn chips to Brownies to sandwiches to little egg things with yellow cream inside.
"Ah, Miss Jones!" a broad faced man, sweating profusely, seized Cora's hand and shook it. "You are the daughter of Daryn?"
"Daryn Jones was my father, yes." Cora said stiffly. "But I go by my mother's maiden name. It's Miss Merandez, thank you."
"I'm Ruben Salven." Salven added.
"Go away."
"Fine, I'll be back for the dancing." Salven said.
"You better not be drunk."
"Trust me, I have the alcohol tolerance level of a God." Salven winked and moseyed away.
"Is that your date?" The man asked distatefully.
"Sweet Jesus! No!" blurted Cora.
"I'm her chaperone." Salven said
"Right, right. Pleased to meet you." the man turned back to Cora. "Well, Miss Jones, my name is Michael Wanetop."
"Pleased to meet you." Cora said in what she hoped was a polite way.
"May I just say that you look ravishing today?"
Cora scowled.
"Look, um, so what business do you have with Umbrella?" Cora said, pulling her dress away from her hip. Why did she agree to this? Oh, right, her family.
"I do several things for the company. Cover up small things, change a number here and there."
"So you commit fraud?"
"No!" Wanetop said loudly, then glanced around. "I prefer to think of myself as a Number Fairy."
"Well, you're a Fairy all right." Cora said. Wanetop blinked, not seeming to know how to take this, until he chased after Cora - who had stalked towards the brownies.
"Look, I'd like to merge Jones' Agents Association with the Wanetop Agent Supply.
"That's lovely." Cora said. "But I'm not a business woman, I'm a soldier."
"Then let me take your fortune off your shoulders."
"Nah." Cora spun away. Wanetop looked frustrated, but then the first few notes of music began to play. Men and women scurried to each other to join in the first dance. Wanetop mopped his sweatry brow and stormed off.
"Ready for a dance." Salven appeared at Cora's side.
"Well, not so much ready as if I don't dance then chances are I'm going to get shot."
"I'll take the dance anyways." Salven seized Cora, pratically dragging her out on the dance floor.
"Real suave, Salven."
"Shut up, Merandez."
Wanetop and an anorexic looking couple spun by them, nearly knocking them over.
"It's times like this that I wish Hulio was alive." Cora sighed.