Maka stepped lightly through the ornate wooden doors of the Evans estate, hearing the rumble of the carriage receding behind her as she took in her new surroundings. The space in which she found herself was light and airy, with heavy blue drapes pulled to the side to allow sunlight to flood through the house. A glossy black piano stood to one side of the sweeping staircase, and a marble bust on a plinth stood on the other. The polished hardwood floor was partially covered with a large rug in tones of blue and green that complemented the drapes, and upon that rug stood her husband-to-be and his parents. As Spirit exchanged pleasantries with Lord and Lady Evans, Maka took the opportunity to take a look at their son. His hair was still the same stark white as she remembered, and she realized that his eyes were no trick of the light – they were indeed a deep red. He bore an expression of polite disinterest at the proceedings, belied only by the slight twitching of his long, dexterous fingers. She realized he was just as nervous as she was. Tuning back in to their parents' conversation, she breathed a slight sigh of relief that she hadn't missed her cue to introduce herself while distracted by her betrothed's… unusual appearance. "- and this is our son, Solomon," said Lord Evans, subtly nudging his son to introduce himself properly. The younger Evans inclined his head slightly, a hint of reticence showing behind his mask of politeness. He wasn't enjoying this any more than she was, clearly. "A pleasure to meet you," he said quietly. "You can call me Soul, if you like." He inclined his head, eyes flashing up to meet hers, and he gave her a tentative smile. His teeth were pointed like a shark's, gleaming white and almost dangerous in the sunlight. Maka flinched in shock. Shame burned through her immediately afterwards, exacerbated by the look of hurt in his burgundy eyes as he registered her reaction. The dull acceptance that came afterwards somehow made it even worse. "Maka, and the pleasure is mine," she returned lightly. She tried for a genuine smile. He cast his gaze to the floor and remained silent. Sensing the awkward tension between the two of them, Lady Evans cleared her throat. "If you'll follow me, there is a light repast prepared. Perhaps we can discuss matters further over refreshments?" The question was not so much a question as an instruction. Lady Evans turned to exit the room, confident in the knowledge that her family and her guests would follow. Maka glanced briefly between her father and her fiancée (Soul, she reminded herself), caught between the two. With all her knowledge of protocol, this was one situation she'd never studied for – given the choice between her parent and her husband-to-be, at whose side should she walk? Soul wordlessly extended his arm to her. Maka took it without hesitation, mentally thanking him for solving her dilemma even as she ignored her father's outraged sputtering. They were to be married. He would have to get used to it. She glanced up at him from the corner of her eye, noting that the polite mask had returned in full force. She wasn't sure why she felt so guilty. After all, this was just an obligation for him as well, wasn't it? — Soul's eyes flickered down to Maka's arm, resting so easily upon his own. He was somewhat surprised that she hadn't hesitated to touch him, really, given the clear distaste for him that she'd shown in the entrance hall. Not that people finding his appearance distasteful was in any way news, but watching her flinch when she saw his teeth scratched too hard at old wounds for comfort. Never mind that she had tried to make amends. She was a lady of nobility, it was probably just a reflex to smooth ruffled feathers. It didn't mean anything. They continued to follow after his parents in silence, down the short hallway and into the drawing room. It had been immaculately cleaned to prepare for the arrival of their guests, and every surface that could hold any kind of shine did so with vigor. A well-arranged presentation of light refreshments was present on the unnecessarily large table. Soul wasn't entirely sure why the one that was actually meant for a party of five couldn't be used, although he suspected that his parents' love for overstating things was likely at fault. Taking the last few steps towards the table, Soul pulled Maka's chair out for her with his unoccupied hand. She sank into it with a murmur of thanks and a smile as their parents, seated at the complete opposite end of the table, resumed their discussion. An unobtrusive servant placed plates of food before them before slipping away once again. Maka eyed the food, an appreciative look on her face, before pinning him with her emerald gaze. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to flinch, it's just, well…" She made a helpless sort of fluttery motion with her hands, as though unsure how to continue her sentence without insulting him. Soul sighed. "It's alright. I'm used to it." He made a point of revealing his teeth as little as possible as he spoke. "That doesn't make it right," she said softly, eyes dropping back to her plate. They picked at their food in silence for the next few minutes, neither one sure how best to break the silence that had fallen between them. Finally, Maka laid her fork to the side. "I think we can agree that our first official meeting wasn't exactly the best of experiences," she said carefully. Soul snorted, expression of schooled neutrality breaking for a moment. "That's an understatement." "So how about we start over?" Maka chirped. "Hello, I'm Maka, thank you for having me." She smiled at him, clearly expecting him to reciprocate her (second) introduction. "Soul," he said simply. "Thanks for coming." He tried a smile again, less tentative this time. She didn't flinch when she saw his teeth. He counted that as progress.