>>>"One could say you'd be in the gutter without me, dearest~"

Mat laughed. Charlotte had a sharp bite to her, her tongue a venomous sting. The sort of person who makes a night interesting, engaging. He wondered briefly if he was passing the audition she had set up for him. Hopefully, he wasn't crippling his chances for the main event.

"She's not even joking,you know, I would be!" he exclaimed, and the laughter continued, both Mat's and William's. He had to admit, old William was a pretty cool guy for a richo. Even if he was trying to hit on his date. Mat chuckled at the old man. "Careful what you wish for, sir."

And then the strangest thing. The old man offered him a card. A business card. A genuine grin creeping over his face, he shook the man's hand as he excused himself. Mat tipped his own hat in return, bowing his head respectfully to the man. "Thank you very much, sir, for the privilege of your company. He held the card up, before placing it carefully in his interior coat pocket. "I look forward to our next chat. Please give my regards to Mrs. Johansen."

As the old man left the building, it took every ounce of his strength not to scream in excitement. Mat's mind was not clear at the best of times. But he knew exactly what this opportunity meant. Even one piece of sculpture could set him up for the next....

How much could he swindle from this gig?

The warm glow of increasing greed filling him, he felt his date whisk him away to what appeared to be a dance floor. Only, not the sort he was used to. Mat got a kick out of his own waltzing golems, but he didn't think this really qualified. He turned to mention to Charlotte that he was far too sober for this part of the night, when out of the aether, a couple appeared. The man made to take Charlotte, and as Mat's eyes fell on the...woman, he felt a gripping horror approach.

>>>"Let's dance, sugar!"

As he struggled not to show his disgust, he pointedly ignored the woman and promptly took Charlotte by the arm, stepping between her and Pouncy McPansy. He tilted his head back ever so slightly, and made sure to look subtly down his nose at the man, his best smartarse grin in place. "Excuse me, my friend," he began, his tone pleasant, yet firm. "But surely you wouldn't deny a man his first dance of the evening with his own lovely companion?"

Without waiting for the man's reply, he dragged Charlotte towards the dance floor. Pulling her close, he slipped an arm around her waist, and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"One circuit, to lose them, then we slip away and find the bar. Deal?"

Louis-freaking-Armstrong.

The horror of having to let some walking, talking wallet of a man drag her around a dance floor had just been fully settling in, when her date promptly swept in and saved her. Which was good, because she knew herself well enough that after five minutes of stumbling around, she'd have gotten fed up and punched his teeth out.

To save face for the both of the, she giggled girlishly and batted her eyelashes at the man and his... woman as Matt dragged her off. "Maybe next dance, deary~"

Of course, she still ended up on the dance floor, only now she was set to stumble around with a slightly more pleasant hobo, rather than a rich snob. "One circuit?!" If her tone conveyed outrage, that's because she was freaking out on the inside. The only kind of dancing she knew how to do involved hopping up and down in place, waggling parts that shouldn't be waggled, and... ballet. And goddammit, she was not about to re-enact swam lake in six in heels.

"I don't know how the hell to dance to this sh*t!" She was trying to keep her voice down, and with a smile still pinned on her face she was sure she looked pretty silly dropping curse words at her date. The fact that he was so close, or that his arm had looped around her tightly, didn't even register as she was trying to copy the moves of people around her.

... rather unsuccessfully.

"Can't we just skip the dancing and get to the drinking already?"

>>>"I don't know how the hell to dance to this sh*t! Can't we just skip the dancing and get to the drinking already?"

Mat sighed to himself. "It's easy, look..." He stepped out with his right foot, and made to lead Charlotte around with him, slow enough that she should be able to get it. Unless she was gifted with two left feet. "It's a waltz, so all you gotta do is step, turn, and keep counting threes. Onetwothree, onetwothree, onetwothree... See? Easy." Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted the couple, still glaring daggers at them.

"Seriously, we just gotta do this once. Otherwise I reckon Baron von Danceshoes is just gonna keep hassling you until you dance with him..."

That, and Mat was finding some small amusement in making Charlotte dance.

He did his best to get her around the floor. It didn't have to be classy, or even tidy. Just passable enough that they could slip away having done what Mat said they would do. After all, Dorian van Trip was a man of his word, and a subtle snub is more socially acceptable than a blatant snub.

"Y'know what," he said quiet enough that only Charlotte would hear, "F*$& this... Let's get that drink."

One dance... one rotation. Okay, so... she could do this. Not like she had much of a choice anyway, since her dance partner was already on the move and dragging her with.

One, two, three... One, two, three... once, twice, th-- She tripped, and only barely caught herself on Matt. The mumbled curse that followed would have made a politician blush. "Give me a karaoke bar any day full of drunks... this is almost-" She shut up real quick when another dancing couple waltzed by, forcing a smile onto her lips. The woman who passed smiled back politely, and Megan waited for them to step out of range before she finished her thoughts. "...goddamn painful."

Still, he had a point, and she'd honestly rather dance with the homeless stranger she maybe abducted/bribed, than the guy with the pencil thin mustache who'd tried to steal her away. In fact, it actually got easier once she got the rhythm down. There wasn't all the much too it, just as he'd said. Easier than learning pointe, anyway.

Temporarily lulled into quiet by dividing her attention in three directions, it surprised her when Matt spoke up about escaping to the bar before the dance was even over. She'd just been about to question him on how he even knew how to dance, too. Instead, she pushed the question back for another time, and flashes her pearly whites at the man. "You had me at drink!"

Impatiently, she didn't wait for him to lead them off, and simply ducked out of eyesight behind those still dancing. One brisk walk along the wall later, and she had successfully angled them off the dance floor, and away from any grabby partners. Now... to find the bar. Glancing over her shoulder at her tux clad hobo, she briefly considered dropping off a few spiders on a wall to do the job for her. If she were caught, however... she wasn't exactly sure how any of the other guests would react to her mutation.

Well, actually, she did know how some of them would react. It was pretty tempting to set her spiders loose in a room most certainly packed full of squeamish, easily spooked old biddies. Just not enough to blow her cover before she had her fun, though.

"What do you say to us swiping a bottle or two and escaping to find somewhere more private, eh?" A house as expensive and over the top as the one she was currently in just begged for some collateral damage. She was more than willing, and able, to comply. "I hope there's some kinda rum for me." She eyed him for a moment, and smirked. "...and maybe they'll have some wine coolers for you."

>>>"You had me at drink!"

Before he had a chance to smirk to himself, she was leading him away from the dance floor. They had managed a somewhat passable round around. Mat had to admit, the waltz went far smoother than it could have. Not as smoothly as dancing with his golems, but then, he couldn't just guide Charlotte with only a thought like he could his sculptures.

Unfortunately...

>>>"What do you say to us swiping a bottle or two and escaping to find somewhere more private, eh? I hope there's some kinda rum for me...and maybe they'll have some wine coolers for you."

Mat laughed, and batted his eyelashes at his date. "Wine coolers, you say? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get me drunk..." He winked, and took a moment to eye his date up and down. She seemed eager to escape the crowds, and for a moment, Mat's ego almost allowed it to think it was solely to find somewhere alone with him. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. For a woman who had urgently dragged him to this shindig, she seemed awfully...out of place at this party.

He supposed even the rich families had black sheep in them.

"C'mon, pretty sure the bar's this way." He started towards the room he had seen people emerge from, drinks in hands. Licking his lips, he was sure he could almost taste the booze on the other side of the door. Figured that was the best chance for the bar. That, and he wanted to impress Charlotte with his tingling hobo-sense.

Luckily for Mat, his hobo sense had been spot on. The room was more sparsely decorated than the others, but what it lacked in excess, it made up for in sparse comfort. Various chairs, sofas, and cushioned benches allowed guests to sit comfortably whilst conversing in small groups. Tables of h'orderves and finger foods lined the wall to the right. At the far end of the room, manned by a steady handed bartender, was Mat and Charlotte's intended destination. The marble-topped bar stood in front of a wall of glass shelves on a mirror backing. Several beer taps stood tall on the marble surface, whilst bottles of multi-coloured liquors rested upon the shelves. Busboys and waitresses swarmed around, some disappearing through a door into the behind-the-scenes with trays of empty glasses, others replenishing their offerings of booze.

Mat stared at the bar, and debated how he could possibly get away with this.

"You reckon you can keep the barman busy?" he asked his date. He looked her up and down once more, and decided that she most probably could.

"So wine coolers would work for that? Heh, lightweight."

He led her away, while she kept an eye out for anyone who might be following. Considering how many people had piled into the large ballroom, she wasn't expecting many. Where was he even leading her to, anyway? She thought the bar was in the other dire-- oh, nope. Never mind, he found it. "You been here before or something? The dark-haired mutant eyed her date suspiciously for a moment. What was the likelihood that she'd snagged some ex-rich bastard who plowed through his money and ended up a hobo? How else did he freakin' know how to dance like that?

Shrugging, she turned her attention to the task at hand. Their mission: acquire booze. Hurdles: Witnesses and a rather attentive looking bartender. Challenge. Accepted.

"You have no idea, Honey pants."

Separating herself from him with a wink, she headed for the bar with a saunter in her step. The lone guy tending to everyone was busy cleaning a crystal glass, as the sparse couples that littered the room had all retired to different nooks and tables to quietly chat. Like a good little worker his eyes were on her the moment she approached, though. "Anything I can get you, Ma'am?"

He was young-ish, in his thirties at max, and though he was starting to lose some hair up-top he was still a rather handsome fellow. Megan herself wasn't exactly the most beautiful bell of the ball, but she wasn't exactly hideous either. Considering her face wasn't littered with cuts and bruises, that is.

"Perhaps." She answered coyly, sitting herself down in a luxurious stool directly before the man. She smiled, plump red lips upturning at the corners, and glanced at his name badge momentarily. "Unfortunately, I've found myself lacking company for a little while while my date is dealing with some business." Megan trailed a fingernail across the marble counter slowly, leaning over as she gazed up at him through her lashes. "A man such as yourself, david, must surely know how to keep a woman properly... entertained, no?"

David was actually used to being hit on and flirted with by all manner of customers. People with money tended to swing their weight around pretty often in the strangest ways. Normally he turned them down, as it was against policy and he was on the job... but... he'd never seen such blue, blue eyes before. Such pale skin with contrasting dark hair. He also couldn't help but notice just how well her dress fit.

"...Depends on the kind of company you are looking for, Ma'am."

... Just because he didn't do it often, didn't mean he'd never done it at all. Megan had his attention sufficiently captured.

He watched her as she sauntered towards the bar, before scratching his chin and wondering how the hell he was going to do this. It had been an observation on Mat's time in this world, that if you looked like you belonged, then most people didn't question you. He had seen it all over. Delivery men walking in and out of buildings. Repair men. Fix-it guys. Most people tended to give the benefit of the doubt. After all, a man on the front desk of an office probably didn't care who came and went, so long as nothing went wrong.

So with that thought in mind, Mat made a bee-line, straight for the door the waiters and servers were coming and going from.

Behind the scenes, a different even unfolded. There was no calm elegance of the party to be found here, no pleasant moods, or luxurious sights. Back here was a world of stainless steel, heat, steam and noise. A room that was half kitchen, half prep station, and half stockroom. Pans and bowls clanged on the far side of the room, the occasional rush of flame as the burners flared up, sending gouts of flame into the air. Orders and instructions were shouted into the air, mingled with the cursing and insults of pressured cooks. Waiters scurried between, dropping off their empty loads for the droop-eyed dishwashers, before taking up new platters and trays to be offered to the city's elite. In small groups of twos and threes, the servants snickered amongst themselves, facades of subservience stripped away to reveal the bitter, loathing core beneath.

"...and did you hear what she said to Stephan?"

"Oh my god, yes! What a f*&#ing cow. Seriously, I hope her limo crashes on her way home..."

"Well, what do you expect from Mrs. Johansen~?" A snort. "She's a bitch."

Sparing only a moment to glance around, Mat strode in, head held high, and his back straight. He made his way towards the dish-washing area, to where the trays were being deposited. One of the dishwashers opened the machine, steam pouring free from it's confines. Spying a stack of trays, Mat grabbed one and made to turn.

"Hey, they've still gotta be polished."

Mat turned, and looked down his nose at the boy, who didn't look much older than eighteen. "Then polish them. I don't have time to argue with dish pigs." Without further argument, Mat made his way out of the kitchen, taking a towel that rested on a bench.

Glad that the chaos of the service industry allowed him to go relatively unnoticed.

Now, the final part of his scheme. Hanging the towel over his arm, Mat held the tray from underneath, fanning his fingertips out to keep it steady. Moving at a brisk pace, not too slowly, like he was in a hurry, Mat simply walked behind the bar and grabbed two bottles filled with amber liquid, checking briefly that one of them was a rum. There was a picture of a pirate on the label, which encouraged him. Resting them on the tray, he glanced down the bar to where his date was entertaining the starry-eyed barman. Smirking to himself, he gave the man a sharp whistle, before snapping his fingers at the guy.

"Oi! You're getting paid to work, not try and sleep with the guests. Start looking busy."

And with that, Mat started to make his way to the exit, hoping that his date would follow and not find the bartender more interesting than the hobo.

She had just been starting to run out of sweet nothings and not-so-sweet nothings to boost Davids ego, when a sharp whistle garnered both their attentions. David didn't recognize the man holding the tray, but the commanding tone and sharp outfit certainly wasn't to be ignored. The damn bigwigs had probably just fired someone and brought some new face in without telling anyone. Happened all the time, much to the annoyance of the staff.

"Yessir." Not wanting to step on any toes, he set about getting himself back to work. David turned to apologize to the woman who he had been chatting with, and found her smiling sadly at him. "Time to part ways, I see. I can't very well go getting you into trouble for little old me." She moved to stand, but stopped when he gently touched her hand.

"Maybe... there is some way I can get back to you, after work?"

Megan grinned on the inside, but managed to crank down the volume of her merriment on the outside. She'd forgotten how fun it was to play this type of game with people. It was almost sad to have to quit now. She kept herself silent for a few seconds, as if she were really mulling over the question, before she leaned in and whispered her answer to him in the form of a series of numbers. Then, without one word more, she slipped away and headed in the direction Matt had gone. Leaving behind a bartender who was frantically searching for a pen to jot down the phone number she'd given him, which would later take him directly to a sewage processing plant just outside the state.

So much fun!

It only took a few minutes of brisk walking to meet back up with her date, and once she had she added two slim, fancy bottles of alcohol to his stolen tray. Booze which she had swiped herself, while David was busy hanging on her every word, with help from four medium sized spiders that had been lurking inside her dress. "Hope you like absinthe. Shall we?"

She nodded her chin in the direction of an empty hall, poorly sectioned off by a velvet rope fence. She had a general idea of what lay ahead and up a rather elegant staircase, but before she moved too far away she made sure to snatch a small tray of cocktail shrimp from a display.

"Should I even ask?" he asked as Charlotte placed the new bottles on the tray. Mat smirked at her, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so not to embarrass her. He remembered her reaction to the coke and bathroom remark. "From wine coolers to absinthe? You are trying to get me drunk!

Charlotte pointed out a sectioned off, but very private hallway. Then she helped herself to a platter of shrimp. She was a strange girl, this one. Mat, for all his functioning faculties, couldn't get a grasp on her. She scrubbed up very nicely, and certainly looked the part. But then, so did he, and he had been sleeping in the gutter for the better part of a decade. But there was...something. Something that didn't sit right.

She seemed to belong here as much as he did.

Then again, maybe she did belong here.

So he led the way. Like a good hobo who had been maybe-kidnapped-maybe-coerced-maybe-bribed. Past the velvet rope. Down the hallway. And up the very nice staircase. At the top, he glanced left, before glancing right. Not knowing which way to go, he decided go left, then right. Then left again. Then straight...

F^#% this was a big mansion...

Before long, Mat found himself with a dead end. A double set of exquisitely carved doors, made from ebony wood. Maybe bubinga? Two large handles of twisting silver sat face to face in front of him. Deciding that this way probably a good enough place to drink, he turned to his date, a smug grin on his face. Grasping the handle, he pushed the door open, and gestured for her to enter.

"Well, m'dear, here we are. After you..."