* It is Saturday, the eighth of May, in the year eighteen eighty-six. Boutique
Vitesse is a sprawling, bustling dress shop in one of the busiest parts of the
city.  Its tailors and seamstresses are artisans of great talent and, more
importantly, exceptional speed and efficiency.  Their customer service
occasionally leaves something to be desired, but their clientele are either so
wealthy or so desperate for quick service that it seems to have no negative
impact on their business.
* Claudia and Joan arrive at the shop just before lunch, which turns out to be a
stroke of good fortune.  Most ladies of leisure take an hour or two around
midday to stay indoors, which causes a bit of a lull in the traffic at shops
like this boutique.  An unsmiling man in a white suit and jacket emerges from
the shop to greet the two women.
* Joan looks up at the shop timidly.
* The man is tall and thin, and his movements are oddly jerky; his eyelids
appear to be stuck half closed, as if he might fall asleep at any moment.
"Ahnn," he says, apparently through his nose.  "Hnow may I hnelp you ladies?"
* Claudia strolls right past the man, sliding the greatcoat off to reveal plain,
mannish clothing. She lightly tosses the overgarment aside, rolling her
shoulders. "We're here for evening attire."
* The man appraises Claudia doubtfully, but he spares enough reservation for a
questioning glance at Joan as well.  "Whnat sort of function whnill you be
attending, hnmm?"
* Joan sticks close to Claudia. Boy does she look out of place here.
<Claudia> We're attending Monsieur Tupikov's gathering tonight. If you can't
have suitable attire ready by then, I'll take my money elsewhere.
* The man actually raises an eyebrow at that, but he doesn't dignify Claudia's
threat with a direct response.  "Right this whnay, please."  He leads the two
women to a small fitting area--one among many with dividing screens set up all
around and mirrors at every conceivable angle.
* If ever there was a room--not even a room, really, just a semiprivate
space--that was designed to paralyze a self-conscious woman with doubt, this
fitting area would be it.  "Any colors you whnould like us to avoid?"  The man
directs his question to Claudia and Joan simultaneously.
* Joan looks paralyzed with doubt.
* Claudia gives Joan another glance. "..We'll keep our options open for now."
* Joan nods as she glances at the door of the building. THAT option is looking
pretty good right about now.
* The man nods.  "Very well.  Stand hnere," he points at a spot on the floor,
"and hnere."  He turns and shouts over the barrier.  "Lucia!  A pair to size!"
* Claudia firmly grasps Joan by the shoulders and maneuvers her over into the
designated spot.
* Joan is maneuvered! She gives Claudia a rather surprised look.
* Claudia responds with a rather uncharacteristic smile. "This'll be fun, you
just need to get into the mood first."
* A tiny woman scurries into the fitting area.  She carries a measuring tape
looped several times over her left shoulder, and a stool over her right
shoulder.  She looks the two women up and down, and then sets her stool up in
front of Claudia.
* Joan looks unsure at Claudia. And at the new woman. And at the place in
general.
* The little woman moves Claudia's limbs as she needs to measure them--pushing a
shoulder back here, stretching an arm out there--and stretches her tap along
whatever surfaces she measures.  Near the end of the ordeal, she calmly reaches
up to Claudia's chest and gropes a breast--not crassly or ungently, but
certainly in a more forward fashion than any stranger is likely to have done
before.
* Joan glances at the door again. She might still be able to make a run for it.
* Without a word, she climbs down off the stool and moves over to Joan to
deliver the same critical punishment.  Her scrutiny is not unkind, just terribly
impersonal.  On the bright side, she is very, very fast at what she does.  When
she's finished, she climbs down off of the stool again and scurries out of the
fitting area.  As soon as she's gone the thin man materializes in the doorway of
the fitting area.
* The man stifles a yawn behind his open right hand.  "That whnill be all for
now, ladies.  Please return in two hours for a final fitting."
* Joan looks more than a little uncomfortable after that, but loses that feeling
to confusion. "That's it?"
<Claudia> Of course!
* The man raises his eyebrow again as he looks at Joan.  "I assure you that your
measurements will be enough for the initial fitting."
* Claudia takes Joan's hand and heads out of the fitting area.
* Joan is led out!
* Two hours later, Joan and Claudia return for their final fittings.
Fortunately the ordeal is nowhere near as harrowing as the initial measurements
had been.  After nearly an hour of refinements, the women have their dresses.
Joan's is mostly a soft, silken blue while Claudia's is more green and shiny.
* Joan has a new dress! She still looks a bit unsure, though. But then, she's
had quite a hectic day.

* As a contrast to the darkness that has fallen on Paris, the Tupikov estate is
bright with gas lamps and noisy with the chatter of dozens of conversations and
the clatter of glass and cutlery.
* Tupikov apparently believes that his guests should not eat all at once and at
a single table--either that or he doesn't have a banquet hall large enough to
seat all of his guests--so instead the estate is crawling with servants and
littered with tables that sport an abundance of light, easily edible foods.
* The estate is outside the city limits, but it hardly appears to be outside the
realm of popular activity when Claudia's carriage pulls up to the gates.  Rows
of carriages line one wall of the inner estate, and servants weave in and out of
crowds of guests still gathered out on the yard enjoying the last few minutes of
sunlight before they make their way indoors.
* A servant hurries to open the door of Claudia's carriage when the vehicle
comes to a full stop, and stands ready to help the occupants out onto solid
ground.
* Claudia climbs out, smoothing out the front of her dress.
* The servant helps Claudia down with an openly admiring smile, and then turns
to help Joan out of the carriage as well.
* Joan climbs out shortly after Claudia. She's wearing a nice blue dress with a
low neck-line (not that she has much to show off), and white silk gloves. Her
hair is short and can't really be done up, but she did add a small flower on the
left side. She timidly takes the servant's hand, smiling bashfully.
* The servant returns Joan's smile, though he's hardly bashful.  "Enjoy the
evening, mademoiselles," he says with a bow, before moving to help other
attendees disembark.
* Joan thanks him and glances up... up... up at the mansion. She looks around at
the other guests, too.
<Angelique> * Was that a flash of white feathers in the sky above? Hard to tell
in the dark, and besides, seagulls don't grow that big. Must have been a cloud.
* Claudia is wearing a shining hunter green affair that manages to be *just* shy
of skintight. Her white-blonde hair, usually kept up, flows all the way down her
back and stops around her hips. She gives Joan a quick smile before walking
towards the front door.
* Joan follows, not wanting to be left with all these unfamiliar faces. She
looks around for the Captain.
* The mansion appears to have been lifted right out of some old Russian estate
and placed in France.  Its windows and doorways are tall and narrow, and barred
with elegant curls of an inelegant metal: black iron.  Crenelations around a
rooftop deck add to the building's image as that of some sinister eastern baron.
* Claudia and Joan make their way through the guests--men and women from the
higher echelons of French society and bustling servants who hurry to see to
their needs--toward the mansion's open front doors.  As they draw nearer, the
sounds of the party within help to dispel the somewhat forbidding attitude of
the mansion's exterior.
* Joan clutches a crucifix at her neck as she steps in, glancing around like she
expected the demons to jump out at her at any second.
* Lively piano music and soothing violin chords act as a backdrop to the myriad
conversations all around the two women.  No demons leap out at Joan, though a
massive woman whose tall wig and long-stemmed glasses look like they'd been
lifted from her grandmother's attic glides toward the ladies like a
pearl-encrusted barge.
* Claudia shifts demeanors, suddenly looking pleasant and delighted at the same
time.
<Woman> Oh, Claaaudia, I didn't expect to see you at an event like this.  You're
usually so... industrious.  Please, you simply MUST introduce me to this darling
you've brought with you.
* Joan stares up at the woman.
<Claudia> Well, we all need to get out and have a little fun sometimes.
Mademoiselle Bordeaux, this is Joan. Joan, Mademoiselle Bordeaux.
* Joan curtseys. "Pleasure to meet you."
<Mme. Bordeaux> Oh, I MUST have her for an hour, Claudia.  She's simply a TREAT. 
Surely you won't mind if I show her off for you?
* Joan blinks a few times. She glances at Claudia.
* Claudia holds her hand up to her mouth, covering the amused smile just in
time. "Of course. Enjoy yourself, Joan."
* The generously-sized Mme. Bordeaux practically burbles with delight and takes
Joan by the elbow as she leads her away.  "Oh, you'll just LOVE the men you meet
at these parties, Joan.  Oh, where are my manners, I can't introduce you as just
Joan to everybody.  Please, you MUST tell me your last name, dear."
* Joan is led away! "Um... It's Dark. Joan Dark, if it pleases you." (Or even if
it doesn't!)
* Claudia manages to choke back laughter as she heads off into the party through
a different route.
<Mme. Bordeaux> Oh, Joan Dark.  How deLIGHTfully mysterious.
* Over the course of the next hour, Joan is introduced to no less than forty
young men, most of whose names she finds impossible to remember.  Some of them
are polite, some are cool, and some seem to be unable to release Joan's hand
after being introduced.
* Joan is overwhelmed!
* While Joan is thus occupied, Claudia is able to make the rounds as required by
her social station.  Most of her time is spent deflecting comments about how
STRANGE it is for her to spend so much time in a workshop.
* Claudia is significantly less amused by the time all of that is over.
* At one point near the end of that first horrible hour, Mme. Bordeaux
introduces Joan to a man named Gustav Herz.  And then, without any warning, she
purrs that Gustav should be a dear a take care of Joan because she--Mme.
Bordeaux, that is--had been neglecting her poor lonely husband.
* Incidentally, Joan notices that Mssr. Bordeaux seemed at that time to be
enjoying himself immensely in the company of an astonishingly beautiful woman
near the center of the hall.
* Gustav, for his part, is a handsome man with broad shoulders and a moustache
oiled to a pair of neat, slightly curling points.  His skin is tanned, his
accent is faintly German, his suit is immaculate, and his monocle is
astonishingly distracting.  It also draws attention to the fact that he makes
little effort to disguise that he's staring at Joan a bit longer than is polite.
* Joan is handed off. ;_; She's a little uncomfortable, but does her best to be
courteous.
* Claudia meets up with Mssr. Bordeaux around the same time that Mme. Bordeaux
comes "to his rescue."  The notoriously gassy and luckless investor is, as Joan
previously noted, exulting in the company of a beautiful woman near the center
of the hall.  The woman has several other men vying for her attention, but when
Claudia arrives she seems to be blessing Mssr. Bordeaux with the lions share of
that.
<Mssr. Bordeaux> Oh, Mademoiselle Chambelleau!  How is your father doing? 
Please, please, meet Helen Alder.  She's just come from London.
* Claudia curtseys. "My father is fine, thank you." She then switches over to
English without a hitch. "How do you do, Miss Alder?"
* Joan meanwhile attempts to hold a polite conversation with monacleman. It
takes effort.
* The beautiful woman is dressed shamelessly, in a low-cut crimson dress that
clings to her figure as inappropriately as Claudia's dress--if not moreso.  She
returns Claudia's curtsy, to the delight of every male nearby.  "Very well," the
woman responds in a smoky voice.  "I've heard a bit about you, Mademoiselle
Chambelleau.  You don't fit into... men's expectations."
<Claudia> So I'm told. Often.
<Mme. Alder> I'd like to talk with you a bit more, but I'm afraid I couldn't
just end my conversation with these charming gentlemen at this point.  Perhaps
we'll meet again later this evening?
* Claudia inclines her head. "Of course."
* Meanwhile, Gustav deftly snatches a pair of wine glasses from a passing
servant.  He extends one to Joan.  "Please," he says, "please drink vis me."
* Joan accepts one. "Thank you." She takes a sip, then asks, "Your accent...
German?"
<Gustav> Oh, yes.  I try to keep it hidden, but I am not so good vis the French. 
How many of these parties have you attended?
* Joan smiles. "I'm afraid I don't attend such parties very often."
<Gustav> No?  It is shameful.  A woman of your grace should not hide away.
* Joan blushes. "Well..."
* Joan isn't planning on following that up with anything. She just couldn't
think of anything to say.
* Gustav smiles, and looks like he's about to say something when people begin to
shift in the hall.  The music grows a little louder, and he brightens.  "Ah.  It
is time for dancing.  I am lucky, to be able to ask you before anybody else. 
May I have the first dance vis you, Mademoiselle Dark?"
* Joan suppresses a shudder at the thought of dancing. "Ah... I'd be delighted."
* The men around Claudia seem to be snatched up almost at once by their wives
when the music begins; in fact, it would appear that *every* man who had been
huddled around this Alder woman was married to another woman.  Claudia soon
finds herself alone with the red-clad woman.
<Mme. Alder> Ah, Mademoiselle Chambelleau.  It would appear that I'll have some
time to talk to you after all.  Shall we?
* The red-clad woman holds her hands out as if inviting Claudia to dance.  A wry
grin tugs at her lips.
* Claudia raises her eyebrows in surprise and no small amount of respect as the
husbands are retrieved. "I suppose so."
* Claudia smiles a little and takes her hand.
* The first dance at Mssr. Tupikov's party is perhaps the most awkward dance in
the history of Paris.  Half of the men in the hall spend most of the dance
looking over their wives shoulders at Claudia and Helen, missing steps, and
leading their wives in weirdly aberrant patterns.  The other half of the dancers
in the hall are exempt from this disaster only because they can't actually see
Claudia and Helen.
* Unfortunately, the widespread nature of this disaster is lost on Joan, who
spends the entire dance stepping on Gustav's feet.
* Just at the end of the dance, Helen stiffens suddenly and grows cold to the
touch.  She stumbles in Claudia's arms, but rights herself quickly.  "Oh.  My. 
I'm so sorry," she says as the music ends.  "I'm afraid I'm not as well rested
from the trip as I thought."
* Joan looks down suddenly, surprised. But she covers it up well. "Ah, I'm
sorry. I didn't realize how long it had been since I last danced."
* Claudia makes sure Helen is standing up straight before releasing her. "I
understand. Here, I'll help you to a chair."
* Gustav smiles comfortingly.  "Not at all, not at all.  I remember that you
said you did not come to these parties often.  It vas my pleasure to dance vis
you."
* Helen nods and accepts Claudia's help to a chair.  No sooner than she's eased
into a chair than the woman is surrounded by worried and well-wishing men.
* Claudia stands nearby and generally tries to deflect the swarm as much as
possible.
* Joan smiles politely to Gustav. "Thank you." She also glances around for the
captain.
* Thankfully--or perhaps not so thankfully--the rest of the night is much more
ordinary.  Claudia's efforts are rewarded when Helen makes it to a room reserved
for her without being smothered by concerned men, and Joan manages to make it
through the rest of the night without having to dance again.
* Neither of them manages to find the Captain, but fairly early in the evening
Omar turns up long enough to let them know that they may leave whenever they
wish.
* Joan hopefully finds a way to escape any more people and get back to Claudia.
* Claudia continues her rounds after seeing Helen to her room, chatting with
investors and 'peers'.
* Joan finds Claudia busy and shows herself out.
<Terom> * A serving woman passes by Joan as she heads to the door out.  She's
holding a platter of those yummy appetizers everyone should love so much,
because they're freaking expensive.  "Excuse me, mademoiselle, would you like
one?"
* Joan shakes her head. "No, thank you."
<Terom> * She frowns slightly. "Oh, that's too bad.  You're leaving?"
* Joan nods. "It's a lovely party, but I'm afraid I have a great deal to do. If
you'll excuse me..."
<Terom> * She bows slightly, not letting the platter waver.  "Have a lovely
evening, Mlle. Dark."  And she goes back to serving.
* Joan remains blissfully oblivious.
* Claudia spots Joan leaving, excuses herself, and walks towards the door.
<Terom> * The serving woman spares Claudia a vague glance, but she just walks by
her.
<Claudia> Ah, I see they're hiring directly from the gutter these days.
<Terom> * The serving woman turns her attention to Claudia and smiles. 
Smiiiile.  "Ah, Mlle. Chambelleau.  Interested in a snack?"
* Claudia returns the smile. It's not entirely pleasant. "Oh, no thank you."
* Terom nods. "My pleasure." She goes about her business.
* Claudia walks after the serving woman, still smiling.
* Terom picks up a few more snacks from one of the tables, arranging them
appropriately on her platter. "May I help you?"
<Claudia> I'm just fascinated by your day job. It's so.. glamorous.
<Terom> Oh, no need to flatter me, mademoiselle.  I am but a servant.  I imagine
things are far more glamorous for you, with all of the admirers and dancing and
lounging around all day.
* Claudia spreads her hands. "Well, we all need a little escape now and then, no
matter which rung we cling to."
* Terom smiles pleasantly. "I'm sure you would be good at anything you attempt."
* Claudia nods, leaning down next to Terom and looking down at the table. Her
voice drops slightly. "On a scale of one to ten, Terom, how painful was that?"
* Terom keeps the smile up. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about,
mademoiselle."
<Claudia> Of course not.
* Terom nods. "Well, if you'll excuse me."
<Claudia> Go have fun, now.
* Claudia grins in a very unladylike manner before making her exit.
* Terom keeps up the front until Claudia turns her back. She transforms her look
into a vicious glare for a few seconds, then wipes it away and goes about her
business.