[Rem]

It took everything he had not to laugh out loud at the look of just glassy eyed bliss and adoration that settled on Michael's face -- he could star as the vapid lead in some romantic period piece remake. He tried to straighten his face in kind, play the part of adoring lover, but the laughter still danced in his eyes and that was probably the cause of the extra caress -- well, scratch, scrape, fuck his nails were sharp! -- along the back of his head.

His eye twitched, smile turning to more of a pained grimace -- his eyes nearly watered in fact. He hid it by coughing, standing upright and looked across the room.

"I'm here to meet with someone, more you don't gotta know, squirt," he muttered low so only Michael could hear, the more refined speech slipping for his usual manner. "Fancy dress ball and I didn't have a date. What's it matter, though, c'mon..." he tilted his head to the whirling partygoers, each almost fancier than the last, and the buffet table heaped with expensive delicacies and wines that probably cost more than the entirety of Michael's waredrobe.

"When've you ever been out to someplace like this? And you say I don't take you anywhere fancy," he snorted, drawing Michael closer to avoid some swirling dancers. "Ain't like playin' this part is too terribly much of a stretch, eh?"