The “Unity of Arts” concert was supposed to be one of those big deals for the city of New York, a reminder that the city was supposed to be a melting pot, welcoming in people from all walks of life; this included race, religion, sex, and now genetics. It was one of those concerts where all the performers who took a special interest in unifying mankind, would have a chance to play. There were slam poets, rock stars, magicians, and musicians from all sorts. Included on this list was a small troupe from the New York City Philharmonic, a troupe that consisted of one such advocate for unity and fairness – Agnes Nicholas.

Renting out the Natural History Museum was no small feat, but it was one that was widely praised by the city and press alike. It stood as a reminder human history and achievement, of those natural forces that people cannot control. This was to be one of the most significant, unifying events of the year, so of course big numbers were expected. No one would be turned away. So long as they had a passion for music, art, and a want to take part in bringing together people, then they would be embraced with open arms. Those that didn’t, well, they could listen from outside these heavy walls.

On stage now, a sampling of the New York Philharmonic were playing, Agnes among them. Dressed in a hip hugging gown of sheer black with sparkling Swarovski crystals along the neckline, Agnes matched her fellow performers on stage. Seated in their seats, sheets of music before them, they played from a selection of classical and modern music. Around them people were milling around, having conversations, and enjoying whatever tables and discussions were being had throughout the room. And yet, for even as distracted as all this was, there were still those who stood in awe of the music that ricocheted off the marble walls of the establishment.

Coming to the end of their set, the troupe played one, elongated note and ended their jovial tune with wide smiles. People applauded, some called for an encore, but their time on stage was done for now. As they cleared their stuff up, setting their instruments inside cases and allowing a valet to take them backstage until it was time for their next set, the small troupe exited down the sets as a soft spoken beat poet climbed up.

Stepping onto the smooth flooring, Agnes took a breath as she surveyed the crowd – there were a lot of people here. Good, because there was another reason that Agnes was here, aside from just playing for the crowd – she was here to recruit.

Recently Agnes had meet a nice man who had heard her story, who knew of the tough life that the ex-runaway had lived. He had in mind an organization that would help give mutants the type of voice that Agnes had been denied in her youth. While normally she would have been too shy to even considering joining a group like this, she had to admit that Devon said all the right things. She could really be of help, not like one of the X-Men. Not to get it twisted, she appreciated everything that they did but they couldn’t be everywhere at once. There had to be those who could catch the little guys before they fell through the cracks – at least that was what she wanted to help do.

With her task in mind, Agnes smiled as she gently took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. Taking a sip, she crinkled her nose as the tickling bubbles and then set about her task. One arm held behind her back, the young woman casually began to stroll, mingle, and keep her ears open for anything who would seem of interest. Haven was a good place, at least she wanted it to be and she was going to do everything she could to ensure that it reached that potential.

Standing in the middle of the room, she stopped as she peered around. She knew she wasn’t the only one here from Haven and, vaguely, wonder if it would be better if she teamed up with someone to recruit. Now if only she could recognize someone in this sea of faces.

How had she gotten here, again? Jack found her self standing in the periphery of the main hall, hands behind her back, gaze trained on the gala before her. It was some swanky benefit being held at the Natural History Museum, and Jack had been enlisted to work security. The neon lights and throbbing electric beat of Chrysalis had been exchanged for live classical music and museum exhibits. Girls in tight, revealing booty-shorts and low-cut tops had been exchanged for gowns and dress-suits. The prawn rubbed the back of her head.

It had started with a visit from Devon. He'd come to the club, inviting her to this dumb event. Internally, Jack thought it was dumb, anyways-- a benefit? To support... what? The human-mutant melting-pot that comprised New York City? Quite frankly, the prawn had never believed that crap. Though she supposed years of being an iridescent behemoth had made her jaded.

Not that her perspective mattered-- for in his invitation and request for Jack's services, he offered a nice chunk of change in order to compensate her. It was twice what she'd make in a night at Chrysalis, and about half of a shift. The prawn graciously accepted it and swallowed her cynicism. She could swallow her qualms for cash.

Now, here she was, standing at the edge of the floor in-uniform. It wasn't Chrysalis's uniform that she donned, but the same in-principle-- a wine-red dress shirt with a cream tie, and a black vest, slacks, and surgical mask. She was also wearing a bone mic, given that she was not the only security here.

Her instructions were simple. Keep an eye out for trouble, and break it up if any trouble arise. A yawn escaped her. Of course, her Boss had been all too eager to let Devon invite her. Chrysalis was a mutant nightclub, and any affiliation with such a humanitarian effort would reflect well upon them.

The prawn's gaze slid wearily over the floor. Not an inch of trouble in-sight. Well, sometimes you needed a slow night to break-up the monotony. The performances were decidedly more mellifluous than the track-lists chosen by Chrysalis's DJ.

For a moment, Jack's attention caught on a young woman in a black dress. She recognized her, and that sensation was a mix between excitement and dread. (The prawn was not, as she would attest, overly extroverted.) What was her name again? She'd been at the club, they'd danced, they'd swapped phone numbers... ah, but she didn't have a carapace. Even from afar, Jack could see that she was lacking the characteristic carapaceous seams in her skin. Whatever her name was...

The prawn continued to scan the floor.

It felt good to be back in his element, even if it was a limited engagement with heavy stipulations. The Gala was being held in the Natural History Museum, and while Nate’s rap sheet was focused primarily on art museums, the fine people at the Natural History Museum were wary of his reputation. It took smooth talking by Devon and a subtle power-inhibiting tracker cuff hidden around Nate’s ankle for them to consider giving him a chance. Nate was glad for the opportunity to prove himself, because he genuinely did not want to miss the Gala and the first steps for Haven.

Nate was not an inherently trusting man, but he believed in the vision Devon was laying out with his new project. The more time spent planning with Devon, the easier it was to see that his intentions were (likely) good, and while he had not yet won over the ex-con completely, the beginnings of a partnership were developing. It was good to be part of something Nate could believe in as his views of the world grew less selfish, taking into account the youth of mutantkind. Students he was tasked with the care and guidance of, as well as mutants he had yet to meet living on the streets like he once did.

And so, Nate helped the man who was originally functioning as his counselor in planning a recruitment effort at the Unity of Arts Gala. It was right in his wheelhouse to turn on the charm and chat people up, swaying their opinions; if anything, this was a great chance to use those powers for good. Dressed in a new tailored black suit and tie, he felt like he was back in his prime, ready to talk his way into the good graces of white collar targets. (Now, if Devon was to be understood, they were “patrons.”)

Surveying the crowd from the back of the room, there were some familiar faces in attendance. Entering into the event, he had greeted Jack, the first person who met him at the Mansion with a not-so-warm welcome. Jack was good people, and while he was unsure of her level of involvement, it was good to see her around outside of the Mansion. He also spotted another blast from the past featured more prominently as she stepped off the stage. Agnes, if he recalled her name correctly, the school’s old gardener and (at some point) flame of the other person he recognized in attendance, an old student with red hair and freckles.

He would take some time for reintroductions later in the evening, but for the moment, it was time to make new acquaintances. Grabbing his only flute of champagne for the evening off a nearby tray, (since he wanted a clear mind if he was “working,”) he made his way to the center of the party, ready to recruit for the benefit of Haven.

It was almost amusing for Svetlana to be at such a high-profile event again. These places kept popping back into her life, even though she had no affection for them... Once upon a time she imagined that it would be her life, on the arm of a wealthy husband. She was trained for this sort of thing, and she was damn good at it too, in a long, form-hugging bright red dress and perfect makeup for her newly blonde hair. She was here for a completely different reason now - not as arm candy, not as a spy. For the first time in a long time, Svetlana was doing something useful without holding a gun.
It felt strange.

Lifting a glass of champagne from a tray, she surveyed the crowd. Humans and mutants, men, women and other genders, artists and patrons mingled. Devon had invited Svetlana to participate, on Haven't behalf, and she knew that she was not alone in the crowd... which was, following the apparent theme of the evening, strange. She had never been a full part of a team, given the danger of her powers to other mutants, and for the longest time, she worked alone, or under Sam's supervision. But now, just the knowledge that she had... allies out there made her feel like she was in a whole new territory.
It was not a bad feeling.

Looking around, Sveta caught a familiar face, and her own lit up in a genuine smile. Weaving her way through the crowd, she caught up to the girl in the black dress.

"Agnes! I did not think I would see you here!"

“I’m glad you’re interested,” Devon grinned, his head inclining back slightly as if he were lost to the fun of the evening. He’d dressed for highbrow evening it was, a svelte black corduroy suit with vest and silken black tie. The crisp whiteness of his collar felt precocious but apparently it was fashionable. It was fun to dress up, but he longed to shed-

“Truly. I’ve heard a few things and all of them good. The turnaround on Plum Island for your company’s spa-“

“Treatment center,” Devon grinned, winking an eye. “But yes, spa too.”

The older gentleman grinned and nodded. “Right, yes, I don’t want to sell it short.”

“Thank you,” Devon grinned, bowing his head.

Two others with them laughed as they held their wine teasingly close to their lips.

“But your havens company isn’t Haven the organization?” the Power Writers’ program director asked, a bushy eyebrow raised.

“No, we’re partners. Yes, I founded both but where one is for bettering and helping yourself, the other is for empowerment and helping others. Anyone who completes a program with Hadden’s Havens will be invited into Haven to continue their education and encouraged in their outreach of the community,” Devon nodded slowly, blue eyes sparkling. He was so excited as he caught site of a few Havenites hobnobbing around the room. “One of the first rules of leadership is that you must take care of yourself before you can take care of others. I certainly had to.”

One of the women lightly touched Devon’s forearm, “Yes, Mr. Hadden. I read about that… It’s so heroic of you to be open about your disease.”

Devon chuckled, “I’m not a hero, but thanks.” His tone quickly grounded down without the humor, “It’s a serious illness, a mental disorder not many understand with links to environment and genetics. It took me years to trust myself, my Doctors, to find the right medication… I knew after those struggles, I could help people. I’ve learned a lot here in New York City and well, it’s time to give back. I’m hoping with that goal I can help others do the same. Thus, first my business to help treat the person and then Haven to help go beyond the internal.”

“Well I’m interested,” the Director said with a polite smile as his date nodded.

“Wonderful,” Tempest grinned.

”No, seriously, it’s a great organization. Trail blazing,” Agnes said with an honest and bright smile. Agnes never had to work this hard trying to sell herself but she knew she was going to have to go all in for Haven.

The organization, in her opinion, was extremely trustworthy. At first she had her misgivings, of course. But Devon managed say all the right things, those things that made Agnes feel all that more comfortable with the idea of throwing her name behind the group. They wanted to help mutants, to give them a chance, to build unity and fairness in a world that loved to stamp it out; that was something that Agnes could get behind.

Despite Agnes’ shyness around people, she was willing to put her discomfort aside in order to try and do her best to help. She still wasn’t quite sure why Devon approached her. She was just a simple violinist in her opinion. She didn’t have a lot of star power, thought a member or two of the party managed to recognize her. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that she was a philharmonic violinist that made revealed her identity, or the fact the “bug violinist” as she feared she would one day be referred to as. She wanted to be recognized for her talents, not her mutations. But it was hard to tell with this crowd.

Agnes returned to her conversation, smiling wide and fawning more over Haven with an older gentlemen and his two children. One of them looked up at her with large, dead black eyes. It was clear that she was a mutant but whatever it was, Agnes didn’t know. Instead all she could tell was that her speech seemed to be having the deserved effect on the older man who “hmm’d” and “huh’d” at everything she said about the organization she was a part of. Clearly it was striking a chord with him.

“I definitely like what I’m hearing,” the man said with a nod. “is there a number I can reach you guys at?”

”Oh of course,” Agnes said with a warm smile. Reaching into her clutch, Agnes popped it open, fished in for a small business card embossed with the Haven logo and handed it over to him. ”Please, call any time. We’d love to hear from you.”

Watched as the man walked away with his kids in tow, Agnes smiled a bit in relief as she turned away to survey the rest of the crowd. She knew that more members of Haven were here but where? It was as she mused on this question that her field of vision was suddenly filled by the image of a smiling blonde. It took a second of Agnes looking at her to genuinely remember who it was and, when it clicked, her own lips stretched into an absolutely brilliant smile.

”Oh my god, Sveta!” Agnes squeaked.

She wanted to reach out and hug her but she had to remember the effect that her old friend’s powers had on mutants. The last time that she had touched her, she had connected with nearly any and all insects who were within fifty feet of her – that was just a quick touch. She restrained herself and just provided her hug with the wide smile on her lips.

”My god, hun, you look so amazing! I didn’t think you would be here either! Decided to crash the party?” she chuckled. She had no idea that this woman had also been tagged by Devon.

>>”Oh my god, Sveta!”

Sveta smiled, giving Agnes a little wave with her gloved hand in lieu of a hug that the girl seemed to want to give, but knew better. It was good to see Agnes again. She had grown up a little, a proper lady now, dressed very elegantly for the occasion. Sveta and Agnes were a dangerous mix together, but the Russian blonde did like the other girl a lot.

>>”My god, hun, you look so amazing! I didn’t think you would be here either! Decided to crash the party?”

"Crash?" Sveta arched an eyebrow and smiled, sipping some of the expensive champagne "Devon invited me. I am here on all official Haven business. How about you?" she nodded towards the stage "Were you playing? I'm sorry I missed it..."

Agnes involvement with Haven was still relatively new. When Devon had come to see her, it took quite a bit of convincing for her to actually accept it, mainly because it sounded too good to be true. After living the life that she did, Agnes didn’t have a lot of trust in people anymore. Oh she learned to build some kind of trust and life with the Sister School, and from there started to accept people in her life. However, that was a trust that was hard to earn and one that Agnes guarded jealously. Haven would have to work to fully gain her acceptance.

Of course, it was already making great strides towards that. Standing in this party, looking over the Unity festival and the generous contribution that Haven was playing in it made the young mutant see them in a better and better light. Maybe Devon really did have something good going on here. And, best of all, it seemed to be attracting some old friends.

With a smile Agnes beamed as she looked over her old friend. Sveta had been the woman that had brought her to the mansion, who had changed her life. Agnes kicked herself for not staying in stronger contact with her but waws thankful that life had managed to steer them both back together. A warm smile and she greeted her old friend (mindful not to touch, of course) excitedly.

However, she didn’t realize in what capacity that Sveta was here. In her mind, Sveta was just a party goer, a guest, not part of the organization that she was a part of. When she had revealed this, Agnes’ eyes opened a bit wide in surprise. It wasn’t a judgment on the blonde, but more that she was just genuinely surprised that she was there.

”Oh, wow! Devon never told me. Then again, he probably didn’t know that we knew each other,” she grinned and tilted her head. ”The same, actually. I’m performing with a small group from the philharmonic and spreading the word, I guess.” She waved her had dismissively. ”Just this one set is done. We have another after the beat poet and some piano player coming up next. Then you get to see me on stage. How about you? How’ve you been? Been forever!”

Suit? Check. Tie? Check. Vest? Check.

Max had never been to a black tie event before, but since joining Haven he found himself in a number of situations outside of what he would call normal. Devons visit to the mansion had felt like some kind of twist of fate. Max had always wanted to do good, to help his fellow mutant, to serve a purpose beyond just trying to get by. Devon had given him that.

He had moved into his new apartment when he received the invitation. The letter had said Max would be good to talk to the people there about Haven, plus his love of music would enjoy the acts.

He had called down to the front desk to ask about renting a tux for the event only to have a tailor show up at his door a few moments later. He had been measured and the man returned no less than an hour later with everything ready. Haven had class, he had to give them that.

Max entered the event as a group called the New York city Philharmonics began to play. Max had intended to find Devon and say hello once he arrived, but the music captured Max's heart. The group was phenomenal. Max may have been a street dancer, but he had been raised on classical music. He could waltz and salsa as easily as tutting or breaking.

The group finished and Max applauded. He began to walk through the event, grabbing a flute of drink as he went. Sure enough he found Devon but the man was surrounded by people. Max walked behind some director that was in conversation with Devon and as he passed offered his new mentor a sly wave.

He mulled about through the crowd. He was there to chit chat but he realized he lacked the importance of most of the crowd to do so. He was almost ready to call it a loss when he saw one of the performers from the Philharmonics. She was wearing a elegant black dress and Max recognized her instantly as the violinist. She was talking to another woman who stood with an aura of elegance.

Max walked up to the pair.

"Pardon me for intruding," He said politely.

He extended his hand and gave a smile.

"My name is Max Rosewood. I just wanted to compliment your excellent performance. You were truly superb."

Rebecca had a few reasons to attend the “Unity of Arts,” not the least of which being her desire to support a friend. Agnes played a role in the entertainment for the evening, and being there for Agnes was enough of a reason to pick out a nice dress and be social for the evening. As of late, her ex-girlfriend was coming back to the forefront of her mind with growing regularity. They were still working out the kinks that came with transitioning into a healthy, appropriate friendship, and maybe she would be having an easier time of it if Agnes was not the most stunning thing in a black sheer gown Becca had ever seen.

After performing, an attractive blonde woman in a red dress reached Agnes before she could. From a distance, the woman’s face seemed familiar, much like the angry Russian blonde Becca once enraged by accidentally flirting with her French boyfriend. It was for the best that the redhead spotted the women from a distance; Svety (as she remembered Jude calling her) might have still been carrying a grudge, and honestly, it was probably safest for Becca’s heart to keep her distance from Agnes. With Nessa out of town for the evening, being at a Gala with Agnes would begin feeling like a date almost immediately.

Instead, Rebecca spotted another reason she had decided to attend the Gala, Devon Hadden, talking to an older couple. Part of the reason the event was being hosted at all was to build support for a new organization he was organizing called Haven. Support came in many different forms, be they man hours, financial backing, or good press. Rebecca’s time was limited between work and her duties as an X-Man, and her financial situation was stable as long as she was only looking to support herself and her cat.

Rebecca could, however, be a voice of support for Haven if she thought there was merit to the organization. It was surprising she would even be reached out to for an event such as this; new media was still looked at with prejudice by those who mingled with old money. It made sense though; of the voices on the internet, Pixelbecky was well-known as a vocal supporter of mutant rights, mutant equality, and anti-discrimination laws across the board. She was not just a popular face, she was seen by many as an advocate, and atop that, she was a member of the X-Men. As public endorsements go, she could be a beneficial one.

Knowing Devon as the man who “cleaned up Sanctuary,” Becca had been curious enough to see the man’s plans for herself. With her ice-blue floor-length gown trailing behind her heeled feet, she approached the host as he wrapped up his conversation. ”Mr. Hadden, man ay th' hoor, Ah presume?” She offered him her hand in greeting. ”Rebecca Grey. Thenk ye fur th' invitation. Colur me flattered, an' quite curioos tae learn mair ay whit yoo're plannin' haur.”

The prawn was surpised to see as many familiar faces as she did. The mutant community wasn't that small, she was sure, but as you made your way around it began to feel much smaller-- she saw Mr. Holloway (the returning art teacher from Xavier's), Devon (of course), and a few faces that were vaguely familiar-- those of young women-- who were likely patrons at Chrysalis at some point.

Another yawn escaped Jack. She wasn't paid to schmooze, thank God. But without the action of ousting inebriated, brawling patrons, playing security wasn't nearly as fun. Of course, she hoped this benefit ran smoothly. She hoped that it would go without a hitch. But she also hoped that something would come and save her from the impenetrable boredom that was overwhelming her.

A waiter glided by with a tray of girly drinks. Probably wine or champagne or something mild. Not Jack's usual go-to drink. But anything to spare her from idle time. The prawn lightly tapped the waiter on the shoulder.

"'scuse nee," she said politely, bowing her head, "'iss I nay?"

"Of course," the waiter said politely, proffering the tray. Jack delicately pinched the stem of the flute, which looked like a shot glass in the prawn's massive mit.

"Shanks," the prawn purred. With a nod, the waiter left.

Jack unhooked her her surgical mask and clenched it in her free hand. She delicately sipped the drink, her maxillae curling with displeasure at the bitter taste. Jack found it hard to believe that people voluntarily drank it. But the warmth that followed made it worth-it.

>>”Oh, wow! Devon never told me. Then again, he probably didn’t know that we knew each other... The same, actually. I’m performing with a small group from the philharmonic and spreading the word, I guess.”

Sveta smiled. It seemed like they did not only both know Devon, but he had also recruited them both for a similar purpose. Sveta had to give it to him, he had a good eye for recruitment. If her own experience was any indication, he was also very polite and respectful, and knew exactly what he was asking of the members of Haven. He was here himself tonight; Sveta had spotted him earlier.

>>”Just this one set is done. We have another after the beat poet and some piano player coming up next. Then you get to see me on stage. How about you? How’ve you been? Been forever!”

"It really feels like forever" Sveta sighed with a nod, basking in the knowledge that she was not only reconnected with an old friend, but would be working with her in Haven in the future. "I have been... well. Not really doing anything exciting... soing my best to stay out of trouble." she added with a chuckle. With Svetlana's powers, trouble was never really far away.

A young man approached them; Sveta could tell from his body language that he wanted to talk to Agnes, so she stepped aside slightly to keep herself out of reach. Accidentally brushing against someone at this event, even with her gloves on, would not have been acceptable risk. The guy gushed about Agnes' performance; Sveta smiled and nodded. She deserved the praise.

Agnes had to admit that she always liked Sveta. She owed her a lot. It had been that young woman that had rescued her from her life on the streets, who had shown her a place that she could call home. They had their own disagreements and confusions at times, of course, but at the end of the day Sveta had always been there for her and it was something she couldn’t be happier about. It was sad that they had lost touch once she had gone away to college but that was life, wasn’t it? However it said something when, after so many years, you could return and almost pick up where you left off.

She couldn’t help inquiring how the other woman was doing so she asked. She wanted Sveta to be doing exceedingly well, hopefully finding a spot for herself in this life. If there was one thing she knew about her old friend was how lonely she must have felt. Her life wouldn’t ever be normal, especially with her abilities and what she could do to other people. Even normal humans could feel that kind of caffeine buzz just for being in her presence. Even now Agnes could feel it. But, still, she wanted her friend to have some hope for a normal life.

>> "I have been... well. Not really doing anything exciting... soing my best to stay out of trouble."

Though it wasn’t the answer that she had hoped for, at least Sveta looked like she was doing well. She didn’t seem hurt or exhausted or anything. Sometimes not leading an exciting existence was exactly what you needed, right? She beamed, happily, when she admitted that she was doing her best to stay out of trouble, she couldn’t help but poke the slightest bit fun at her.

”Haha, that’s a first,” she said with a grin as she sipped her champagne. ”If I remember correctly trouble found us a majority of the time.”

Speaking of…

>> "My name is Max Rosewood. I just wanted to compliment your excellent performance. You were truly superb."

Agnes blinked as she was suddenly set upon by a fan. The man was a bit younger than her but not by much. He seemed suited for the party, dressed up and nice, and was paying her the nicest of compliments. As Sveta moved out of the way to avoid touching anyone, Agnes could feel a blush forming on her cheeks. Humbly she nodded her head as she shared with the younger man a small smile.

”Oh, thank you Mr. Rosewood. That’s so kind of you to say.” She said lightly. Clearly she was unused to praise (still) and fumbled a bit. ”I’m just glad that you are enjoying the show so much.” She suddenly remembered she was with company and glanced to Sveta, gesturing to her. ”This is my friend, Sveta. I…wouldn’t shake hands with her. She has a bit of a cold.” Agnes wasn’t sure how open Sveta was about her abilities and figured that was at least a good cover to keep her any strangers from wanting to shake her hand.

The violinist gave him a polite reply and introduced Max to her friend. The woman was wearing long elegant gloves and Max felt she looked quite regal. Max felt bad for intruding on their conversation and turned to Agnes' companion.

"Nice to meet you Sveta. Hope you feel better." He said pleasantly.

He stood awkwardly for a moment. Being in a tux surrounded by the rich and influential Max tried not to feel out of place. He was nobody, as much as he hated to admit it he knew it was a fact. He had dreams of being an actor, of being somebody that poeple recognized, but for the time being he was simply a young man who was here because he had friends in higher places than himself.

"Do you guys attend things like this often?" He asked, "To be honest I feel like a fish out of water. The entertainment is nice but I don't really know what to do with everyone just mulling about talking politics."

He gave an earnest laugh. At least he was making an effort. That was all he really could do. Devon wanted support in making contacts for Haven and as Max stood with his fellow members, oblivious to the fact that he was with fellow Havenites he tried to put on a brave face.

>>”This is my friend, Sveta. I…wouldn’t shake hands with her. She has a bit of a cold.”

Sveta chuckled at the introduction. It was nice of Agnes to leave it up to her whether she wanted to share information about her powers. It also made her sound like she was full of germs, but still, it was considerate.

>>"Nice to meet you Sveta. Hope you feel better."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Rosewood." she smiled back. The guy was polite, and not making any comments about the two lovely women in front of him. That was a good sign. He seemed nice enough, even though a little tense in the middle of the fancy setting.

>>"Do you guys attend things like this often? To be honest I feel like a fish out of water. The entertainment is nice but I don't really know what to do with everyone just mulling about talking politics."

"Not often" Sveta chuckled at the question, glancing at Agnes "We are actually here tonight to talk to people about Haven. Mostly work, and some entertainment." she added with a smile, nodding towards the stage "How about you? What brings you here?"