Invite Only

Gilded opulence. Gold tones and drapery adorn the hall, displays of diaphanous wings petal along the place settings and their gossamer dances with the chandelier's firelight as if they fluttered in perpetual flight. Roses and greenery drunk up the spring time, matched with the delicate silks of both the setting itself and it's austere patrons. No one would second guess who the silk-stocking patron of a gala with this level of decadence and class belonged to; The venue clearly a mark of Angora's handiwork.

Given the level of care and craftsmanship and, well, the healthy flow of carats to Support such an occasion, the venue served as a talking point for burrowgatory's most elite. An excuse to mingle with the other upper crust socialites of high society, and show off their sumptuous threads no doubt hand penned by some well named designer. Or a means to drink in a taste of the high life for those with a penchant for misdemeanors who can fudge their ticket in for one night of glitz and glamour.

Well that or, you're the staff for those aforementioned lucky ones.

Days prior, the waves and murmurs of the upcoming gala still buffeted the community that both were to avidly participate and those caught in the crossfire. The Wonderland Casino, being the host's golden goose, had a hustle and bustle that proved impressive even for it's typical busy fare. A whirlwind that, a certain succubun Somehow managed to avoid until now; A feat considering how much he skulked around the establishment on a regular basis.

Somewhat dumbfounded at the change and frequency of clientele to that of the more bourgeoisie persuasion, Stephen didn't get much time to think on it before a small arm grasped his own, half looping themselves in such a way that caused both buns to stagger; Surprise and confusion subsiding as he heard the telltale clatter of glasses struggling to right themselves against a serving tray, gaze darting over to the familiar sight of Hops desperately trying to rebalance herself as her own eyes flitted from the drinks sloshing above a wobbly arm to the succubun she had attached herself to as a means to garner his attention.

"YOU! I've been looking EVERYWHERE for you where have you bee-"

CRASH

Both jolt, then go still as a statue as the balancing act was inevitably doomed to fail. Glass careened into itself, splashing the acrid sweetness of mixed drinks into the air as they almost in slow motion toppled to the floor below. Soon followed was the tray, hitting the ground with a few unceremonious tinny bounces before rolling for a short stop and wobbling to a halt. With an exasperated sigh, Stephen loosens himself from Hops' loosed grasp, the smaller bun standing there with the now freed hand over her mouth, eyes betraying an emotion that could only be described as resignation. He crouches down, daintily picking up the now emptied glasses that somehow hadn't shattered and wordlessly swiping a bar towel from her side to begin cleaning up the mess.

"I've been working? Come on I don't- I don't spend That much time-" Words halt as he feels the statement's catching himself in a lie, shaking his head. "Point is, busy. Why?"

"Angora needs you- For the Gala! The, Gossamer Gala- it's a couple days away and-"

All words ceased to reach his ears once the request shot between them, a ringing static drowning out any further instruction Hops had attempted to communicate as his face grew hot and tongue tied.

"I- Well I'm- I'm very flattered but- oh who am I kidding she's too good for-"

"Huh? She needs you for staffing silly!" Hops chirps, meeting Stephen on the floor to do her part in cleaning up the aftermath. "The event's gonna be a HUGE blowout, and she needs all the staff she can get. More than what are on her payroll.. And considering your debt-"

Right. The Sisyphean task of handling a debt from miss Angora. The dark cloud looming over his head every time he darkened the door of the establishment, from his risky ventures of dipping more than his carat pot could take at the table. Last time was good too! Oh on a streak, so close to saying goodbye to the incurred interest and indentured servitude but.. At the end of the day, the house always wins, and any amount of capital careened down into the red ever further. Just like every time that vice got a little too big for it's britches.

Stephen huffed out a sigh.

"So. I'm guessing this isn't a Request?"

"Nope!"

Fumbling with his cuffs as he looked back at his reflection, surveying how the sleek and svelte waiter's uniform pleasantly hugged his frame. Much better than the getup he was Used to being roped into by the likes of the Wonderland Casino, mind you, the well fitted vest much more something he was accustomed to. Touching up his hair for the third time, offering up a satisfactory smile to the mirror, and tapping from one foot to the other and offering up a little twirl he really hoped no one had seen him do.

Stephen wasn't really one for balls, galas, or any sort of party really. Camping more in the socially awkward camp he much preferred to spend time with good ol' me myself and I unless he was inebriated or loathedly lonely; Which, granted, he often Tended to be. Still, there was a part of him that found the opulence intoxicating, gilded ceilings and vaulted windows as endearing as they were ostentatious. Not as if that sort of excess was a life he'd prefer living but there was something so taking about the concept of being so affluent one could afford such expenditures without a second thought.

And, though he was only a lowly waiter in the grand scheme of the gala at hand, Stephen was still a damned well dressed waiter. And with that newfound swagger he graciously took a tray of hors d'ouevres out to the ballroom.

Heels clicked rhythmically against the polished floors, so heavily buffed one could see their own reflection. Though the venue was huge, it was alive with swaths of mingling fabrics and bodies, murmurs and chuckles peppering in the atmosphere. Spying a nearby group, Stephen sidled his way over, tray stalwart in his hand as his other arm crossed over his chest in a loose guard.

"Excuse me, would any of you fine folk like-"

His attention is garnered by a voluptuous bun in a crushed velvet ensemble that lovingly kissed her frame, paired with gloves that climbed up her arms and hugged them sleekly. She turns, the clack of stilletos against hardwood as she turns and looks down at him with a height much dwarfing his own. She dripped opulence and class, and as she drew her half moon glasses with the gilded chain to her face all words and thoughts escaped his body in a panicked rush one only feels when directly confronted with someone So above them in every way. Stephen opens his mouth to speak, but a tenable squeak is the only noise he can muster. Eyes as big as dinner plates, he swallows dryly and attempts again, voice choked as the metallic sound of his now trembling hand supporting the tray hitting his ears.

"I- you- food? yes?.."

Hells, he really needed a drink.