"Irving, are you really sure about this?"

Eyebrow raised and scarlet gown hanging off one arm, Benny needed an answer before it was too late to turn back.

His eyes darted away from Bernice's, and when they fell back into contact with them, he actually, visibly grimaced. That was never a good sign. "Unfortunately, no. Whether it's you or someone else, I doubt this will go particularly well compared to past years, quite frankly."

"Great."

And she hadn't even gotten to visit Jack in the hospital to tell him off. It hadn't been a great day so far, to say the least. Now for something she'd been truly dreading.

He reassuringly placed a hand on her shoulder. Exhaling, he pieced his words together carefully. "It's not your fault at all, Benny. I really am sorry that you have to do this. It's terrible for this to have to be our first official public appearance in more ways than one."

She sighed in exhaustion. "Well, I suppose an acknowledgement is better than nothing."

"When you're dressed I'll escort you to the Hall of Mirrors," he explained, straightening his cuffs.

She looked at him dumbfounded.

"Escort?"

He chided her like a small toddler.

"Ah ah ah- tradition dictates..."

"Tell tradition that it can go sod off, Brax. I don't need that."

"Bernice, I want to help make this ordeal as easy for you as possible. They can't see me entering without you or you without me. If we're seen as a unit, it'll be more difficult to criticize either of us or give negative press- keep things less invasive?" At least that was what he hoped. It was so difficult to plan where emotions were so heavily involved.

Bernice grumbled. "Fine, okay. Go, this won't take me long."

But Braxiatel assured her of one thing, lip curling up, slightly smug. "Regardless of how this goes, just know that in one way or another, you won't be left... unsatisfied by night's end."

Benny rolled her eyes, but did keep it in mind. "I don't need the bribery, but thanks for the offer- now shoo!"

She ushered him away from her bedroom door so she could change and Irving backed off with his arms raised.

"Alright, alright- I'll be waiting!"

Bernice shut the door on him and quickly stripped down to her underwear, quietly cutting at the situation.

There were some upsides, if you looked at it the right way. Apparently, this thing should easily have enough support for what she hated often having been pointed out to as a sorry excuse for a woman's chest. No uncomfortable pressure needed.

That saved some time, anyway. Her singular strapless bra was old and not in the best shape. Throwing the bra she'd just been wearing aside, she picked up the dress.

Benny sighed, the full-length mirror in her bedroom emphasizing all the wrong bits. This would work, right? It fit perfectly before. But she still shook her head as she was putting it on. There was a reason she rarely dressed up nowadays, it just didn't suit her. The scars just kept bothering her. That nagging about her body never fully went away, did it? So long ago, it was the callouses on her hands. Then it was the small beer belly and stretch marks. Then the early stress wrinkles. Then the cesarean scar. Then her arm. Throw in a few bullets in there and that might just be a tip of the iceberg that was her bodily insecurities.

Now, save for eventually getting used to the way her age presented itself- it was practically everything. At least while she showed off much more than her face and neck, anyway. Plastic surgery wasn't usually in the budget- but if it was bad enough, those were the only places Bernice could bother with.

She finally got it all fastened up. It could've been the light, perhaps, but seeing herself in the gown, she still wasn't sure.

The anxiety about all those things wasn't bad on their first date because the anxiety was being spent elsewhere- and this dress left little to the imagination, even less than the other one. In front of a group of fifty-something people, watching like sharks. Several of which being members of a species she couldn't even stand to be in the same room with.

Maybe her shoulders just needed some makeup? That was where the scarring above her abdomen was worst, after all. Or one of them. It seemed that Brax had remembered which arm had at one point been unceremoniously torn off and regrown, and the little cover there was had hidden the huge seam in the muscle well enough. She supposed that was thoughtful, at least.

Benny finally sucked it up and took what she was given. Trying to avoid too much makeup, she kept her eyes on the reflection of her face, and made sure it looked as lightly done as she could make it, save for some dark eyeliner and a bright red chapstick.

The jewellery was easier- she didn't wear gold much nowadays, but a plate necklace and a pair of large hoop earrings were more than plenty.

Stepping into the pair of deep red heels that she'd set aside, Bernice swung the door open again to the sight of Braxiatel looking at his watch.

He glanced at her and stood upright. A clear blush was creeping in over his face, and he did his best to keep his gaze polite.

"Benny- you look... radiant."

She'd have teased him for getting flustered by his own present, but none of it felt flattering in this instance. And that particular compliment of his was very, very old indeed. Was that all he could come up with when she happened to put on a nice dress?

"Hmph."

Bread protested. "It's true. You look like a real goddess."

"At least I measure up to the depictions in someone's eyes, I suppose," she huffed.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Bernice- really. I mean it. Every time I say you're beautiful, know that I'm being as honest as I ever can be. ...Should I take your judgment of my taste personally?" he joked.

She rolled her eyes and slumped over in surrender. "Okay, fine. I guess I'm pretty when I scrub up. A little more time in this thing and I might actually feel like a million credits rather than an imposter or a gold digger."

He looked at her with an expression of realization, his mouth forming a silent 'ah.' But now wasn't the time."If for whatever reason you wish to talk about that, please tell me later. But know that you're not pretending to be anything. You're always worth it."

She couldn't help but smile a little, and Bernice finally took his hand after what seemed like hours of him holding it out for her.

Benny nodded and took another large breath before letting it out, making something very clear. "Okay. Yes, I'll go. But I'm not doing this because of the dress, or the sex, or the champagne. It's not the bribes. This is a little for you, but also for me. I need to finish my business with those scaly bastards eventually. Not the best place to do it, but at least I'm not alone, and they're not the ones with authority around here."

Irving glanced at his watch.

"Good. Now- I believe we should get going. If we want to be there just on time..."

She huffed again, fondly this time. "Of course, showing up like that. You always do."

"I like to make the most of it. And it's simple enough with what I am," he smirked.

She took his arm properly and they finally strolled out of her office and into the halls of the mansionhouse.

When she made her way into the view of the guests, Bernice's steps grew more confident. She stood up straighter and grew cool as ice. It had indeed been the light in her room- the golden Gallifreyan embroidery was shining so brightly that it was practically glowing. Things as simple as that made her more sure.

There were scowls from the Draconians, who were always scowling anyway, but there were impressed gasps from some of the reporters, and the various forms the Mim were taking, and the other members of the Collection who turned up.

Still arm in arm with Braxiatel, she grinned smugly. The crowds parted like the sea for them, but a reporter rudely stopped them in their tracks.

Overly cheery, the woman held them back and spoke. "I know this is a diplomatic conference, but these two are the talk of the galaxy. Mr Braxiatel, Ms Summerfield- we know you've barely made anything about your relationship known... How does it feel to be out in the universe with it now?" she asked, before shoving a microphone at them and directing a camera drone to get right in their faces.

Braxiatel flinched and reeled backwards at the hovering nuisance. "It's... interesting. I wanted to leave a good first impression, now that it's come down to it. "

"We wanted to keep things private," Bernice stated more firmly.

The woman just kept prodding, until she finally struck a nerve that made Benny just twinge. "And that's because of? What? Mr Braxiatel's consistent air of mystery? Perhaps your previous marriage to Jason Ka-"

"That's it, we're done here-" With a steely glare, Bernice stared down the interviewer and pulled on Brax's arm, desperately wanting an escape, but they were both stopped again.

"Wait! Who are you wearing, Ms Summerfield? I see that you two are matching this evening..."

Taking her hand away from him, Benny crossed her arms and scrunched up her face into a scowl, looking as far away from the camera as she could. Braxiatel stepped in and distracted the woman, answering her question in a manner that suggested he was exhausting his patience, but being as nice about it as he could. "Ximon Bentley, ma'am. The dress was a custom commission, while this tie is just a personal favourite of mine and an older example of his work." As if to emphasize his point, he straightened his tie.

The reporter cracked an excited grin. "You heard it here first! Bernice Summerfield has an original Ximon Bentley! I see Irving's art lover is on full display, if you know what I mean," she gossiped.

Still remaining polite, but on the edge of his rope, he brushed her off. "Now, I believe that's all the time we have, ma'am."

"Yes, thank you, Brax."

Bernice looked about the crowd. Yes, there were plenty of Draconians, and researchers, and department heads. But the Mim, they were far more interesting. Some were taking their natural, purple sponge-like form, others looking like cephalopods or insectoids, some more humanoid- many also happening to be stark-naked. The bodies they were holding were probably the equivalent of being dressed to the nines, but it still made her feel far more decent by comparison.

She could see his manner shifting already. Braxiatel took a few breaths and seemed to grow quietly calm, plastering on a warm smile. She knew he didn't mean it. He turned on his lapel microphone and cleared his throat pointedly, bringing the room to silence.

"Ahem. Delegates, department heads, academics, reporters- esteemed guests. Thank you for coming to my humble abode. I'm sure you're all hungry- so I welcome you to the Hall of Mirrors for supper."

Irving bowed as the doors swung open slowly. He took Bernice's hand again, preventing her from passing with everyone else as they filled in. "We go in last."

After the long procession, they were finally able to enter together. The sunset was stunningly reflected from the windows by the mirrors, a beauty so rare and so extravagant that the room felt like it was simply magic.

Everyone had a name card by each of their seats. It shouldn't have been at all surprising that she was positioned at the head of the table with Braxiatel, but it was slightly jarring. Bernice typically put herself in equal footing with him by standing on a crate, in a sense. Her personality and skillset were what made up for her technical lack of certain authority. That not being the case anymore was something else new.

Everyone shuffled into their seats, her and Brax sitting down in theirs in unison, then Braxiatel tapped his glass with his knife to gather everyone's attention.

"Esteemed guests, for your continued appearances at these gatherings, I thank you with sincerity. I do hope your support of the Collection and the peace between you all will remain for this year and many more to come."

Everyone nodded, a quiet muttering between a few of them. There were short, polite claps from some, but it could hardly be called an applause. After a short pause, Braxiatel shushed everyone and continued, smiling warmly and looking between her and the audience.

"As you can see, there is someone new at the head of the table with me today, and you may recognize her. She's a brave adventurer, a colleague, author, wise teacher, mother, friend, and my partner in all things-" another long pause, "-Professor Bernice Summerfield."

There was polite clapping, but a bit of subtle grumbling from the Draconian side of the table. At least that was also Braxiatel's side, so Benny wasn't right next to them.

Still, Irving raised his wine glass and the robot porters floated into the hall to bring the first course.

Benny stared out into space, her eyes wide and glazing over. What had he just said she was? Partner in all things?! That was probably practically married, in his terms. Blinking several times, she snatched up her wine and took a gulp. Her throat was dry all of a sudden, everything was so hot.

Excellent wine too- but certainly not as good as his personal stash. Considering this was supposed to be 'the very best the Collection had on offer,' it was safe to assume that they just didn't know quite how good it really got.

The food though- that was where Braxiatel's splendour shone through. The first course was a rare fish that was exceptionally difficult to breed, and their DNA equally hard to buy unedited for replication. She was eating an artificial fillet, but it was indistinguishable from the real thing, and seasoned to perfection, tasting slightly buttery with a texture that made her want to feel it in her mouth as long as she could.

She stopped paying attention to the Draconians and lost herself in the meal entirely.

"Professor Summerfield? Professor Summerfield?"

She didn't even realize someone was calling for her until Brax tapped her on the shoulder.

"Bernice."

Benny shook herself back to reality and looked toward the other voice. It was a Draconian. Wonderful. It wasn't showing disrespect to not be social- but ignoring people entirely... She sighed. Looking closely, she thought she recognized him.

Oh no.

"Umm... yes, what is it?"

Seemingly polite, he asked her a question. She knew that voice. "Was it intentionally timed on your part that your rejoining of the Collection would coincide to be within six weeks of the peace conference? If the Mim were involved, your past would make you an unsurprising choice of agent."

Bernice held in a snarl.

Luckily, one held him back from the accusations. "Now, Ambassador Kothar, that isn't very diplomatic," another commented. "If you continue, Mr Braxiatel's noted displeasure for the treatment of her during her visit will doubtlessly be brought out again, and while he lacks large-scale weaponry- if he wished, we could be closed off and held hostage here, triggering a standoff between six empires."

"Yes, sir."

Braxiatel nodded, his answer ominous. "Indeed I could, if I so wished. You are in fact correct. Though that isn't called for unless it becomes the absolute worst-case scenario."

"And we do not require human agents. As you can see, our use of that shape is perfectly satisfactory," a Mim burbled, ironically one of the few taking their natural form.

Irving cleared his throat indignantly, his hand's grip on the table knife tightening. "Quite satisfactory, yes. And if you were not aware, no. I didn't even expect for Bernice to return and stay here willingly, and any Mim plotting would be exceptionally easy to uncover, given how honest she lets herself be with me."

"Brax!"

He only chuckled.

"I didn't say how you tell me things, did I?"

He was right. And it wasn't like anyone had to guess who she'd be most likely to spill her secrets to when she was drunk.

Benny groaned, doing the closest thing to addressing allegations that this counted as. "No, I am not a Mim spy. And I did not try to assassinate Emperor Shen of my own free will, nor do I... hold a grudge against any Draconians not involved with the Dark Flame cult," she lied, the words bitter at every glance of this world's Kothar, at least being outwardly unpleasant this time rather than another scheming, slimy git. "And just because I'm a human female doesn't make me inherently more suspicious. Irving is just as much a neutral party as ever, I haven't corrupted him."

"Yes, Bernice is here because tradition dictates, no other reason. Now that's settled, could we please hold any personal gripes until the political negotiations after dinner?" Braxiatel's features turned cold as ice and the room fell into total silence, everyone seeming to ease off.

"Good. Now, I believe it's just about time for the next course."

He clapped and the old plates were ushered away by the porters, and new ones took their place. Expensive cuts of beef from or based on the finest Agmolnan calves, braised and served on a bed of stewed noodles, carrots, and brothy sauce. Of course, paired with- and containing- a perfect choice of red wine.

The portions of each dish were fairly small, of course- but these were all so filling. Bernice didn't think she'd actually make it past pudding. But she'd eat for as long as possible regardless, if for nothing else but to distract herself from the disaster awaiting that was the actual negotiations.

Benny had to seem unbiased towards one side or the other- unfortunately, she only knew of one species being wiped out save for a few survivors. Even if the Draconians weren't involved with their destruction, the bad memories killed any chance of not feeling sympathy for the Mim. These ones were much luckier in that respect too- but reality never did fully overcome emotions, especially in the mind of an average human.

She only had to stay silent during the summit itself. Tradition dictated that she only had to speak to who she was supposedly advising at that point- apparently the role of the 'closest confidant.' And it was probably best she kept her mouth closed when she wasn't using it to savour every bite, because aside from possibly starting an argument, Draconians preferred females seen and not heard. Absolutely despise that or not, the less she had to talk to them, the better.

She sat there in silence most of dinner, every new dish that came out better than the last. In terms of picking these out, Brax sure knew how to do pudding, and he definitely knew how to do chocolate mousse cake.

The last bites disappearing from her dessert plate, Bernice put the fork down and her place was cleared. Lacking the distraction, she looked at Braxiatel with concern. She felt a cold hand brush over her lower thigh and come to rest on her bare knee from underneath the table, a gesture of comfort. One that also made a blush slowly creep up on her face.

Realizing exactly what it looked like, Irving took his hand away and cleared his throat.

There was a hubbub when the documents were brought out. Display screens in front of every delegate and guest showed the current terms of the agreement from previous years, and the proposed new additions that needed to be talked over today. Benny looked it over on hers. Long and boring, but detailed in such a way that suggested many somewhat combative amendments over time, and patches over weak spots.

"Blimey, this really is extensive..." she whispered.

Brax chuckled, murmuring quietly back. "I don't leave room for loopholes. When these treatises are active, the Collection's star system is effectively government-sanctioned private space with total control over who enters and who leaves, each side doing half of the work, and protecting us from possible betrayal from the other."

"That's one way to do it. Certainly better than the alternative," she commented.

"I said I was sorry about the Cybermen, and I didn't even do it," he stood accused.

She playfully nudged him by the elbow. "I know, I know. Genuine compliment, not snarky remark."

"It's sometimes so hard to tell with you."

"But you love it."

"...But I love it."

Trying to focus on what everyone was saying once it officially started, Bernice did indeed stick to her principles and stayed completely silent aside from when she whispered into Braxiatel's ear to make a remark. But it was so boring that eventually it all sort of blurred together, and in a haze she drifted off and almost started to fall asleep.

"Bernice."

She blinked faintly.

"Bernice."

Not fond of the name being used currently and so dulled that she couldn't even bother to consider voices, she continued ignoring it.

"Benny."

That got her attention. Her head darted to the right and she caught Braxiatel's now somewhat concerned expression.

"What?"

"The negotiations are over. We've got our protections."

"Oh."

What were they supposed to do next again?

"It's time for the fun part. Now get up, we need to move this table out of the way."

Alright, that was weird.

She did as she was told, following the rest of the guests to a spot a good bit away from it, and the porters came in and stole away all the chairs, then moved the dining table all the way to one edge of the room, also setting up some cheaper collapsible tables.

It wasn't long before she realized what they were doing. Out came the nibbles and champagne. Time for the after-party.

Snacks, a dance in what was now a ballroom, and more wine. Much better.

As the music began to play, the Draconians largely sat it out, chatting where the food was.

The Mim danced in strange ways, some vibrating their sponge, some transforming, some doing things that on any normal humanoid would mean broken joints.

The various paparazzi watched intently, looking for chances to snap a good holoprint.

Benny hung out by the table on the other side of the room from the Draconians, not quite sure if she wanted to dance yet. But then Braxiatel walked over, each step to the beat of the tango music.

"May I have this dance?" he offered, holding out a hand.

But she was reluctant. She wasn't quite sure something so sensual was a good idea in public- not with how a bit of Brax's male biology had been reacting to her lately, at any rate. Something to impress the cameras or no, that was a risk.

Benny raised an eyebrow and whispered back as to avoid attention. "The tango? Really? ...Are you sure you won't get a stiffy?"

Irving quickly retracted his hand and awkwardly cleared his throat, red rising from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. "Ahem- now that you mention it... erm- I'm not quite positive on that."

Considering it hadn't used to happen, that was still easy to forget. But Bernice didn't shut him down entirely.

"Maybe later. For now, something else, perhaps? What genre's the next song?"

"Disco."

Much better.

"Well then- I'll give you a dance when that comes on. Meanwhile..."

She grinned and held out a glass for him.

"Care for some champagne?"

He smiled back and gladly accepted it, clinking his flute to hers.

"Don't mind if I do."