They worked their way through the glittering ballroom at a leisurely pace, Jane chatting with those relatively few attendees she knew well and forging new connections with the many she did not, Gunther never more than a whisper away from her.

He was, Jane decided, singularly gifted at what he did. Based on his demeanor, she might as well have been the only woman in the room - hell, the only woman in the city. He was the very soul of attentiveness, without ever crossing the line to overbearing.

It was… nice. Very, very nice.

A light touch at her elbow or the small of her back, the way he clasped her hand loosely in his own so they wouldn't get separated as they wove a path through the other guests in the increasingly crowded room.

And watching him navigate the party - now, that was a thing of true beauty. He really must attend a lot of these events, Jane thought, because he positively radiated self-assurance; moved through the space as if he owned it.

He received admiring - and speculative - glances from most of the women in attendance, she couldn't help but notice, and small wonder. His attention, however, remained focused unswervingly on her. It was deeply gratifying, if a little distracting at times; when he brushed a few errant curls off her neck with his fingertips, she shivered right down to her toes.

He was also drawing her closer and closer to himself, she realized; erasing the distance between them inch by inch, intuiting her next move and matching himself to it, turning them almost into a single unit, a single… entity. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced with another date. It was unexpected, and delightful, and very nearly intoxicating, in a way no drink had ever been.

"Gunther, how lovely to see you again!"

Jane started - it was odd to hear someone address him by name - but she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. He was in his element here, after all. These were his natural environs, so it was hardly shocking that he'd be - known - to at least some of the partygoers. Or at least, it should hardly have been shocking. Jane found herself slightly jarred, though, all the same.

His arm had been around her waist; he'd been smoothing the scales at her hip in an offhand, almost casual way. But he went suddenly still, and she felt him tense up at the sound of his name.

It was awkward, sure - Jane certainly didn't want everyone here knowing she'd had to hire an escort as her date - but it didn't quite explain the something that flashed across his face. There was a slight crease in his brow, a tension to his shoulders, a barely contained anxiety which he suppressed faster than it appeared.

He took a little half-step before apparently thinking better of it, then detangled himself from Jane - she hadn't realized they'd become so entwined as they'd chatted - and pivoted to meet the elegant woman who had just hailed him.

Gunther beamed at the newcomer, clasped both her hands in his own, and leaned forward to kiss her cheeks.

She was stunning, a work of natural and professional art. She was perhaps fifteen or twenty years older than Jane herself, though it could have been as much as thirty. It was difficult to gauge under the designer dress, expensively toned body, and miraculously sculpted skin.

"Kathryn, how lovely you look this evening. Positively aglow. How is it that every time we meet, you're younger and more beautiful than the last?"

Jane sucked in a small, but decidedly sharp, breath. Just how many… meetings… had the two of them had? Clearly she was in the presence of a repeat customer; possibly even a regular? Her chest tightened just the tiniest bit, and it wasn't only disconcertion at the thought that if this woman knew Gunther, then she also knew Jane was here with an escort. No, there was more to it than that; there was a little twinge of jealousy there. She told herself firmly that it was patently ridiculous to feel that way, but -

Ridiculous or not, there it was.

"Oh, do stop," Kathryn shook him off and batted playfully at his shoulder. "You scandalous charmer." Her mouth pulled into a delicate little pout as she pretended to be unimpressed by Gunther's compliments. The slight tinge on her cheeks, though, implied otherwise. "Did you see," she continued, "that Lillian's here too? She talks about you ALL the time." She waggled a perfectly manicured hand in his direction. "You always were her favorite, you know."

Jane repressed what surely would have been an uncouth sound - probably an embarrassing cross between a snort and a bark of horrified laughter - and took a sip of her drink to hide her smile.

No doubt Gunther was everyone's favorite.

Every woman's favorite?

Did Gunther accept male clients?

...Now there was an enticing visual.

The slight movement attracted the older woman's interest and her head swiveled to focus on Jane.

Jane couldn't help but be intimidated, the woman was the personification of grace and old money... but she seemed genuinely curious and her smile was friendly enough for someone who was - no doubt - rather blatantly assessing the newest addition to Gunther's clientele.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your date?"

"Of course," he replied, all traces of his earlier discomfort gone. "Jane, this is Kathryn. Kathryn, this is my date for the evening, Jane."

"Just Jane?"

"Just Jane … for now."

"Always the man of mystery. Isn't she a bit out of your league?"

"Absolutely, but don't tell her that."

"Aren't you just adorable." Kathryn gave his cheek a small pat before addressing Jane directly. "It is so very lovely to meet you, my dear. I saw you earlier and wanted to compliment you on your choice of dress - it is nothing short of magnificent, and your hair? I couldn't buy that color if I wanted - and even then, would never have been able to pull it off. Perfectly stunning."

"Thank you, it is very kind of you to say so."

"Hardly, it is merely the truth. And Gunther? Is he being a gentleman?"

"Of course."

"Good, you keep a firm hand on him and his attitude - he can be quite the challenge - and don't let him ride you too hard."

Gunther produced a strangled, choking sound from somewhere behind her.

Kathryn gave him a concerned look, sparing Jane from needing to produce an answer. "Are you quite alright?" She asked. At his nod to the affirmative, she turned her attention back to Jane. "In any case, my dear, compliments to your triumphant ensemble. You put every other woman here to shame."

"Everyone but you, of course." Gunther chimed in, apparently having recovered his composure. His tone was kind, but ever so slightly dismissive - he seemed almost desperate to get rid of her, despite their friendly rapport.

Professional courtesy, Jane supposed, though it was strangely nice to see him so… perturbed. It was good to know he wasn't quite as wholly unflappable as his outward appearance implied.

Kathryn gave him a disbelieving, indulgent smile. "Incorrigible. Now I'd better be off," she said, appearing to pick up on his unspoken cue. "Don't let Lillian catch you with this goddess on your arm, or she will be jealous and feel the need to regale everyone with the tale of you running around the hotel buck naked."

And with that, she disappeared into the throng.

Jane stared stupidly after her and tried - unsuccessfully - to banish that particular visual from her mind.

"Aren't you going to ask?" He was close again, his hands back on her hips.

Jane gave her head the barest of shakes - whether in negation or to chase away the picture of Gunther sprinting through the hotel in a state of total undress, she wasn't sure - "I think, perhaps, it is better if I do not."

He seemed relieved, "Shall we dance then? Take a break from the mingling?"

"Yes, please." She gave a breathy little laugh - a release of tension she hadn't known she'd let build - as he led her to the dance floor. "I'm not sure I am comfortable with all of these people thinking I need ...you."

"I can promise you no one thinks that -" he wrapped himself around her and dipped his head so that his lips were moving against her temple as he murmured, "if anything, it's the other way around."

It was easy, so disconcertingly easy to let herself get lost in him. To pretend that this was in fact, a real date and that all of his solicitous attention was really just for her and her alone.

"You are very, very good at what you do." She ran her hand down his chest and smoothed his lapel.

"And what is that?" He rumbled, his voice low.

As if he didn't know.

She'd opened her mouth to answer - a compliment or a retort, she wasn't sure - when Jane spotted HIM at the entrance.

Immediately, all the unease, the apprehension, the anxiety of seeing her ex came flooding back.

Gunther noticed the change immediately; she'd stiffened in his arms ever so slightly, missed a step of their dance as the warring needs of fight and flight - or God forbid, freeze - ruined her coordination and chased away whatever warmth had been pooling low in her middle.

Gunther studied her pale face, took in the look of - God she hated that he had this effect on her - FEAR the mere sight of him brought. Then he resumed their swaying, ever so subtly rotating them so he could scan the entrance for the source of her discomfort.

"Is that him? The asshole of the golden fleece, honeyed tongue, and wandering dick?"

"Isn't that like the pot calling the kettle black?" Jane rejoined.

He scowled down at her, annoyed for some unfathomable reason.

"I apologize," she said sincerely. "He makes me… edgy. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. Yes. That's him. That's Algernon."

A growl emanated from somewhere deep in his chest, a weirdly protective and reassuring sound. His eyes, zeroing back in on the man who'd just come swanning into the room, narrowed momentarily to slits - before he remastered himself, and even managed a laugh. "What the hell kind of name is Algernon? It's almost as if his mother took one look at him and just knew he'd be an asshole."

It was an attempt to distract her; a means to cheer her up and bolster her confidence. Jane appreciated the effort - it was, after all, her purpose for hiring him in the first place - but now that the moment had arrived she felt nothing but trepidation.

"You weren't kidding," Gunther observed, "he really does like to make an entrance." Jane twisted in an attempt to see what ridiculous foppishness Algernon was getting up to, but thought better of it. She'd witnessed his grandiose arrivals before; been part of them, in fact. Jane herself had once been an ornament, an accessory, to the spectacle that was Algernon.

Everything about his personage - including the people with whom he chose to surround himself - was deliberate, farcical, vain, and carefully calculated in order to attract attention and showcase himself in the best possible light.

"His suit is purple," Gunther continued, "and there's gold filigree on his sleeves. I could be wrong, but I think it matches the metalwork over the bar. Did he - did he have his suit tailored to match my - the venue?" He sounded incredulous. "Are you sure he's not my pimp?"

Jane didn't respond - couldn't without making a fool of herself.

Gunther caught her eye. "Do you want to go?"

Yes. No.

Jane felt wretchedly conflicted. Leaving would be simpler. She'd done her duty for the company and there was no need for her to suffer Algernon's presence and whatever venomous vitriol he would undoubtedly fling at her. But on the other hand, just being here was a personal triumph; she had needed to overcome so many of her own insecurities to get to where she was currently standing wrapped in the arms of this beautiful, beautiful man. And - she was slightly embarrassed to admit it, but - she'd been having a good time. A great time, actually. Physical attractiveness aside, Gunther was funny and charming and weirdly endearing and… and FUCK Algernon for ruining it all by just existing.

"No."

"Are you sure - we could just -"

"No."

"I think -"

"I am not paying you to think." She meant it as a joke, but immediately regretted it. It didn't so much just miss the mark as whiz completely past it, an arrow flown wild. There was the smallest bit of hurt in his silvery eyes. It was her turn, now, to wince. "Gunther, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it - it was considerate of you to offer. I was nervous, I... am nervous - afraid even - and it fucking kills me that he still has that power."

Gunther nodded, accepting her apology with more grace than she deserved… then trailed one hand down her back, dragging his short nails along the bare skin there until just the tips of his fingers snuck inside the plunging backline of her gown. He pressed her closer until they were molded together; her body fit his perfectly and she could hear the steady thump of his heart. His smell surrounded her - citrus and leather - and she leaned into his heat.

"Do you still love him?"

"Heavy material for a first date."

"As we discussed previously, this is still technically, not a date. But you don't have to answer."

Why shouldn't she, though? Gunther would be the last person to judge her - and there was something so oddly freeing about, just, their ...situation.

"I'm not sure I ever did," she said, "not really. But I wanted to. Maybe the idea of him, or more specifically, the ideas of us. That's what I mourned."

"But not anymore?"

"No. No, not anymore." There was a beat of silence as she gathered her courage. "I suppose I'll have to face him eventually."

Gunther leaned down to nuzzle her neck. She tilted her head instinctively - she no longer quite had control of her body - to allow him better access. He dragged his teeth along the sensitive skin there, and nipped at where her pulse was suddenly beating far too rapidly. A little moan escaped before she could quell it, and she felt him smile against her neck, pleased with her response. He pulled back ever so slightly and trailed wet kisses up her neck to her ear.

"Good," he whispered, "Because he's spotted you and is coming this way."