[M] WHODUNNIT? -- IC

[Craze]

Rated M for Mature. Contains violence, excessive language and mildly sexual themes.

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october 31st
the grand marconi hotel
20:33 p.m.

It was proving to be a rather spectacular evening. A full moon was already well on its way, rising up in the blue night sky, not a single cloud in sight. It was warm, yet not as warm so that one would feel overdressed. It was chilly, but not as chilly so that one would require a coat.
Brown autumn leaves twirled down onto the cobblestone roads leading up to the Grand Marconi, the hotel's impressively tall windows beaming yellow light into the forests.

A long row of red-clad valets stood next to the hotel gates, happily taking over vehicles and parking them for their owners once they arrived. The passengers, usually wealthy families, exited the vehicles and approached the hotel's main doors, where the hotel clerk, Andrew Finch, awaited them with a charismatic grin.

"First time, eh? Well, don't worry, lass, you'll fit right in," he said to a young woman entering by herself, his R's rolling over his tongue. Evident of his Scottish origin. With a wink, he put a stamp on the woman's invite and stepped aside to let her in.

It was then that a white Chrysler B-70 rolled up to the hotel gates, its driver all too well known to the hotel staff. He was by himself; he always was. Just in front of the gates, he exited the Chrysler and heaved a large brown trunk out of the car, landing it on the road with a heavy thud. Immediately, as if a sensor had gone off, the hotel's bellboy, Jerry Marsh, hurriedly approached the man.

"Evening, mister Locke, sir," the bellboy chirped, nervously smiling.

"Evening," responded the man, turning around to reveal his unique, yet handsome features. He wore a large trench coat and fedora in a matching color, and he chewed gum. "Everything set up?"

"Oh, yes sir, mister Locke, sir," the bellboy replied, nodding vigorously, "your suite on the third floor, as always."

"Good," replied Locke in nonchalant tone, absentmindedly chewing his gum. "Go ahead and take my stuff up. I'll go on and head inside."

The bellboy nodded and heaved the trunk on his back, immediately sinking through his knees. He looked back once more at the man, forcing a smile.
Locke turned back to the row of valets, handing his car keys over to the first in line.
"Not a scratch," he demanded.

After his car drove off towards the immense parking lot, Locke approached the front door. Andrew Finch saw him coming from miles away, and was already smiling. "The heart of the party!" he exclaimed, laughing. Locke silently handed his invitation over to the clerk, who briefly skimmed through it with his eyes and then stamped it. "In ya go."

Locke stepped into the hotel, and was, for the 15th time annually, baffled by the interior. The Grand Marconi had existed for nearly a hundred years, and it was still in remarkable condition. Hand-painted murals on the walls, windows and doors lined with gold, walls painted in salmon pink and carpets of burgundy... the works.

"Detective!" sounded a voice from atop the stairs. Locke looked up, seeing none other than the hotel's manager descending. It was a rare occasion, seeing him in the lobby - he was a businessman, and involuntarily inherited the hotel, yet took care of it like it was his baby. Still, he hardly showed his face in the hotel and left most of the overseeing to be done by Andrew Finch.
And for good reason - even now, while broadly smiling, Marconi was downright creepy-looking.

"Detective," he repeated once more, now in a content whisper, as he shook Locke's hand. "Excellent to have you with us again. We need you tonight more than ever. I've had a... couple of phone calls from guests fearing the recent string of murders. I doubt they risk any danger, but... it is still comforting knowing we have the law's watchful eye with us."
Locke smiled faintly. "Well, anything I can do to help, sir."
Marconi laughed like a proud father and patted Locke on the shoulder. "How goes the investigation, by the way? Any leads?"
"Well, that is strictly confidential, sir," replied Locke, loudly chewing, "though I can say, I ain't backing down until this dog is behind bars."

After finishing up with Marconi, detective Locke hung up his coat and hat and went into the ballroom, dressed in a sharp-looking tuxedo. The bellboy Jerry could be seen in the distance, squeezing his way through the guests with a tray full of drinks.

Locke took a gander at his watch.
21:07.
He sighed.
Time to mingle.

october 31st
ballroom
23:49 PM

Detective Locke had bluffed his way through the event relatively easy, even though he drew a lot of attention towards himself - he was the only guest who was allowed to not wear a mask; in case of an emergency, it seemed inconvenient to go through a crowd of masks in order to identify the detective, and only then inform him.

Almost three hours into the night, nearing midnight, Locke found himself on the ballroom balcony with another guest. The only information he could gather was that she was a woman; her mask hid her facial features, as was custom.
The conversation droned on casually, most of it consisting of small talk, the detective chewing his gum as he stared off in the distance, when it happened:
A terrifying shriek resounded through the Grand Marconi.

Instantly, the detective drew his gun and pushed the woman aside, re-entering the ballroom. With no time to wait for the guests to clear the staircase, Locke hopped onto the railing and slid down, clumsily landing on the marble floor, knocking into Jerry Marsh as he did so. The tray of drinks flew through the air, crashing into the buffet.

Pushing the people aside, shouting he was police, Locke arrived at the center of the ballroom. His gum fell out of his mouth as he did a terrible discovery.

Lifelong attendee of the masquerade, 98-year old Baroness Danielle von Liechten, was dead.

Her body lay sprawled across the floor, a deep red wound at the center of her chest. Single fatal blow to the heart, Locke noted. He lifted his right foot, which had been standing in a puddle of the Baroness's blood.

Shit, Locke thought as his eyes remained locked on the corpse. Not only was the Baroness dead, he now had to go through every single guest at the event - anyone could be a suspect. However, a single thought of relief entered his mind; this wasn't the work of the serial killer I've been chasin'.
Doesn't fit with the MO...

"Finch!" he yelled to the clerk, whose head immediately popped up from the crowd. "Lock the doors and gates. Nobody gets out 'til I say so, you hear me?!"

After Finch hurried off towards the hotel entrance, a string of employees following after him, Locke turned around to face the crowd and silenced them with a loud yell. "I want everybody at my office... er... suite on the third floor pronto. I'm sorry, but right now, everyone's a suspect and I need to goddamn narrow down this list. The more honest you are, the sooner you can go home and the sooner this business is done with."

Easier said than done, for the line in front of Locke's suite had been endless, extending to the ballroom and even to the terrace.

november 1st
detective locke's suite
04:10 AM

Locke sighed and slouched in his seat, blowing out a large cloud of cigarette smoke. Finally, the last guest on the list. He threw the guest list away and pinched his nose bridge, his headache building. After tediously going through one aristocratic family after another, most of them hysterical and in tears, Locke had finally narrowed down the list to 9 people, excluding himself and the hotel staff.

He picked up the list and looked at the horrendously written names. (He wasn't exactly famed for his handwriting)

Teddy Roberts
Ludmila Chernova -- odd bird, better have Finch keep an eye on her
Vivian Marshall
Lance Demel -- criminal record? gotta look into it
Lukas Schiller
Cora Rodgers -- movie star of sorts. also woman i was talking to on the balcony
Bohai Jing
Jason P Anderson
Bryan Daggerty

Not taking the hotel employees into account, but definitely keeping them in the back of his head, Locke put the list down and exited his suite, descending back into the lobby.

All the remaining guests were gathered there, including the six head honchos of the hotel staff.

"Right," said Locke as he stood in front of the small crowd, as if he was addressing a poorly recruited military force. He took a gum from his pack and slid it in his mouth, chewing audibly. "From now on, no one leaves the hotel. Finch has given the key to me and I'm not lettin' anyone out until I find out who killed the Baroness. I don't care if you've got a sick dog, dyin' uncle or pregnant wife at home, no one leaves. That, for the record, includes me. There's suites on the second and third floor that have been prepared for you, should you wish to take some rest. Do note that I will be keepin' an eye on everyone, and so will the staff. Your cooperation in this investigation is much appreciated, 'cuz I don't want to sit around 'till Christmas either."

With a satisfied click of his tongue, detective Locke nodded his head and crossed his arms. "Oh, by the way," he then said, lifting a finger, "to the killer, I say this: know that I will find you and that I will bring you to justice. You may keep quiet for as long as you like, but I'm playin' the long game here."

And with that, the masquerade had turned into a crime scene, and the guests had become suspects.

Only one question remained...

Whodunnit?

[Lady Celeste]

As that terrible shriek resounded, time seemed to stand still. A line of clients had been waiting just outside Madame Chernova's booth at the time, but the line quickly dispersed as they all rushed to see what was going on. The Madame herself followed suit, giving little thought to the people crowding around her. Absentmindedly, her eyes wandered to the first clock she saw.

And there it was.
Just as the spirits had warned.

Her pace slowed to a quick but steady walk, facing directly forward all the while. The policeman was already pushing his way through the crowds, while Ludmila slowly wove her way through, arriving a slight distance away from the bloody sight shortly after the policeman caught sight of it.

The old woman on the floor still had her mask on, but Ludmila recognized the mask and costume just the same. She did not move in the slightest, her eyes fixated on the body and her breath exhaling in ragged wisps. Seconds later she began to shudder slightly, muttering in Russian all the while.

"Evil is here..." She whispered quickly, barely even noticing anyone else. "Still here... Still in this place..."

For obvious reasons, the Madame's whispered raving only added to the panic in the ballroom, with some guests wailing in horror and begging to be let out of the hotel while others loudly berated Ludmila for scaring the guests, until the staff arrived in short order to prevent a possible riot and usher Ludmila away from the scene.

---

Hours later, after the initial interviews had concluded and the policeman made it clear that no one would be allowed to leave the hotel, Ludmila stayed a short ways away from the policeman and warily looked at the other guests, waiting until she was sure none of them were looking at her before she proceeded to speak to the policeman.

"Evil is in this place..." She said, vaguely repeating the first thing she'd said upon seeing the body. "If we cannot escape it, then we must fight it. What would you ask?"

[Mystress of Shadows]

The brisk night air had been perfect for a light chat, and her companion seemed to agree. Cora smiled towards the man as she continued the conversation.

"You see, I've had a lot of fine dining in my lifetime, but the appetizers they serve at this event are always pleasing." It was a mundane conversation, perhaps, but enjoyable nonetheless.

Suddenly, a piercing scream rang out. Cora hurried to see what had happened, but before she had even reached the door, the gentleman she had been speaking to shoved her aside. It had not been enough force to knock someone down, but lo and behold, the oh-so-graceful actress lacked all grace in this moment. Her heels caused her to lose her balance and down she went. Sprawled on the ground, Cora temporarily forgot all about the scream. Only one thought took precedence in her mind.

Rude.

She climbed to her feet in an attempt to regain her composure and strode through the balcony door with a plan to confront the man for his actions. However, upon reaching the railing for the stairs, she froze. On the floor amongst the sea of people was a splattering of red, and amongst the red, there seemed to be a body. Although she could not see it clearly, Cora was more than capable of putting two and two together.

Someone was lying dead on the floor.

Someone was dead.

Someone was dead.

Cora turned ghastly white at the realization, her voice catching, fear curdling in her gut and throat.

---

By the time the interrogations had finished, Cora had removed her mask. It was obvious that she had been crying, mainly due to the stress of the situation, but now, she merely felt numb. Too exhausted to do much, but too worried to rest. Stuck in that perpetual state, she seemed to float from place to place as though looking for something to keep her mind from wandering too far.

[Mariel]

The evening was passing by as seamlessly as ever; no commotions or accidents occurring, the gentle hum of the attendees providing a pleasant back drop of sound. It was growing late, and Lukas was returning to his room after finishing his last dance with the Baroness, Danielle.

Over the past four years, the two had grown close to one another. She was an intellect like him, her conversations so deep and intriguing— she really was a breath of fresh air. Despite the regal status most of the attendees held, very few cared to really dive into the depths of imagination with Lukas, and none could do it better than the Baroness herself.

The time they spent together was always a pleasure, and the swift moving dance they had shared as the night waned on was no different. While Danielle may have been nearing a century, she never let age impede her from interacting with the world. A bright smile brought a charming glow to Lukas' masked face as he walked down a hall leading away from the ballroom. The Masquerade had thus far been a peaceful evening, and his and the Baroness' last dance was the perfect way to end such a night.

But that dreamlike evening was quickly torn away, sending Lukas crashing back to reality as a horrified shriek resounded throughout the corridor.

Lukas ran back to the ballroom where the gut wrenching sound came from, and the glowing smile promptly dropped from his face. The once lively woman he had grown to love was lying in a growing pool of her own blood. Lukas ripped the mask from his face and instinctively ran over to crouch beside the Baroness' limp body. He pressed his fingers against the side of her throat, desperately seeking the lively rhythm of her heart that he had danced to not even five minutes ago.

It was gone, and a cacophony of terrified voices took its place.

---

It was past just four in the morning before the detective finished interrogating all of the guests. After he was finished addressing the lot of attendees, letting them know that no one would be leaving until this murder was solved, Lukas sulked off to the nearest bathroom. Apparently as he was checking the Baroness' pulse, he inadvertently placed his hand holding his mask in the pool of blood to stabilize himself. The shirt cuff on his right arm was stained with blood, and the once black and white mask was now black and red.

Upon entering the bathroom, Lukas slung the mask in the nearest trash can before leaning against the sink and gazing into his mirrored reflection. While Lukas never kept himself in the slickest style, preferring to look slightly... rougher— he looked like absolute trash at this point. He sighed audibly, tilting his head down and closing his eyes to regain what composure he could, before proceeding to scrub the dried blood from his skin.

[XanesFox]

The night was still young when Vivian had arrived from the nearby airport. The flight had truly been awful with all the turbulence the mid-autumn sky brought. Needless to say, the young lass had bought a couple of glasses of French 75 on the way over to calm her nerves from the flight over. She wasn't quite half-seas over to begin her night with. Vivian was not a woman known to have a low alcohol tolerance level.

Once at the Grand Marconi Hotel, Vivian had shuffled out of her limousine with two suitcases and her purse. She had packed one bag full of necessary things a woman might need. The other, a bag full of illegal drinks back in the United States. As a speakeasy server in Chicago, her sales did not stop at The Drifter. No, her boss was counting on her to find more customers and suppliers for their business back on US soil.

"Good Evening Mr. Marsh. Would you please escort my bags to my room C-27? I'll be up momentarily to get ready for the night's events." She gave an award-winning charismatic smile to the bell boy and watched him leave with her bags in tow. Tonight she was to relax and enjoy herself. For tomorrow the business begins.

Going inside to the main foyer Vivian had seen an old flame of hers. Being oh so bitter about seeing the man easily flirt with the women that came in, she had turned to the elevator as to not engage in an actual conversation with the fellow. "He doesn't even know he's doing it. Cheeky cake-eater." She sighed to herself as the ride up the elevator commenced.

Around two hours later, Vivian was finally ready for the ball to be. Dressed in a two-piece midnight purple corset and floor-length dress. Her jet black hair done up in a ponytail with loose curls flowing from behind. After doing her make-up and securing her purple mask to her head the young adult headed to the dance hall.

During her time in the ball room, of course Vivian was already indulging herself with hard liquor and speaking to this younger handsome gentalman known as Lance. As the two had hit it off and Vivian's drunken mind set had her flirting with the bad boy heavily. Hell She even offered to go some where quiet for the time being. Off to a secluded small room down the hall.

During their short time there was an ear pircing scream coming from down the hall. THe two had exchanged a look of complete shock and bolted to the scene of the crime. From the back of the room Vivian couldn't tell who exactly was laying on the ground but the masses of voices had spread that the baroness had been slain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was about 4:15 when The young wiccan girl had made it back to her room to reflect on the events that just occured. She sat in the dark way too long before getting up and making her way down to the front desk where her old flame resides at all hours of the day. Her pale cheeks were stained satin with twin rivers cascading from them. "May I talk to you?" She asked the man taking off her mask gently and throwing it to the ground.

[Price]

Well shit. The old dinosaur had to go sooner or later, but murder? The ole dame was ninety-eight. What, the killer couldn't wait a few days for her to croak naturally? Even as other guests shrieked and fainted in horror at the sight of a bloodied dead body, all Bryan could do was tisk. Perhaps he should have been more disturbed, or at least acted more disturbed, but frankly the scene was a bit messy. With a kill like that, it was more of a wonder that Danielle's killer hadn't left a trail of bloody footprints in their wake. If he didn't notice at the time, he'd find the irony later that his mask was the same shade of red as the sticky blood decorating the fancy flooring. The mask and the face that wore it would slink back deeper into the crowd, as he had been lucky or not-so-lucky, to have been in the front of the thick crowd of disturbed party goers, just a few inches from the baroness. 'Huh, so that wasn't wax on he floor making my shoes sticky...' He had to stop himself from asking for a towelette, lest he be the prime suspect, but God...he was walking on a bit of Danielle. 'Nasty...'

Any sort of empathy would have been appropriate once the surprise wore off. For that matter, any emotion at all from Mr. Daggerty would have been a welcome change. Instead he was rather callous about the whole situation, which was sure to rub the detective the wrong way. He was sure that was the reason he had been forced to remain at the hotel as other guests were cleared to leave. Or else, perhaps it was his background? He had killed quite a few Germans during his service just over ten years ago; but that was different, that was war. Besides, he was almost insulted that the detective believed that he could be responsible for a killing so poorly executed. He preferred his kills neat, quiet and clean if he could help it. That was one of the reasons he had such a high body count during the war. The quieter the kill, the less likely that the victim's buddies would come around as backup. Strangulation with some wire was one of his favorite tricks. It sure beat the hell out of firing from the trenches, spraying and praying with guns far more liable to jam than fire where they were aimed. Perhaps the detective hadn't been so understanding about the bloody soles of Bryan's shoes after all, though the steel-worker was pretty sure that the detective had stepped in the blood as well. It could have been any number of things, but the truth was the same. He was a suspect, a damned murder suspect.

The sad bit of irony in all of this was that he never actually wanted to attend this party to begin with. He had work that he could be doing, always work. There was nothing more unproductive than partying it up with rich people. He had been invited to this annual event three times, and he would have rejected this third invitation if not for his friend and boss. The man was as stubborn as Bryan, and since he learned Bryan intended to start his own company, he practically ordered Bryan to schmooze and rub shoulders with the upper-class. The hidden identity masquerade theme was going to screw that idea up from the start, but Bryan was not about to tell that to his former C. O. Now he wished that he had. This event had turned out to be much more sinister than an annoying inconvenience.
-------

With his hand tucked in his pockets, mask long since discarded, he listened to the detective drone on and on before finally shutting his trap. This one really fancied himself a big shot, didn't he? The small town, southern authorities always acted tough. The way Bryan figured it, this was just another detective who'd scene too many movies. Now the guy wanted to play hero. Locking the whole place down, interrogating everybody one at a time, and now making some big speech. All Bryan could do was roll his eyes with an exasperated sigh. Still, there was something rather interesting to this whole thing. Was the baroness the only target? Why was she a target at all? If theft was the killer's main goal, she'd opened her doors to be looted without much attention. After all, who would see someone take some small treasures in a crowd of this size? Then again, maybe that was why she was killed. Maybe she saw something she wasn't supposed to...or maybe the killer was after something else and was still at large?

Okay, he had to admit that there was a bit of excitement to this mystery solving business. He could see how someone like the detective could get into this stuff. All the same, it was going to be a long night and he was going to need a smoke break. He began walking out toward a balcony overlooking the floor, intent on smoking that cigar when he spotted her. Coraline Rodgers, big time Hollywood actress, star in several of his favorite movies. He passed her, their eyes connecting for but a moment. He flashed her a knowing smile, never breaking his gait.

[BumblingBee]

Oh hardy hah hah. A beggars mask. How bloody original.

Teddy simple stared at Milly, with a look that can only be described as intense loathing. Yet she worked the damned thing all the same. Rules are rules... I guess. Her disgustingly ostentatious gaggle of (apparent) girlfriends were stood tittering and giggling whenever anyone (and I mean ANYONE) of the opposite sex merely looked in their direction. While Teddy on the other hand, stood solitary and as apart from them as she could manage in the crowds.

Surprisingly, she managed to set herself a new record that evening though. For she managed to stick with them for a whole three minutes instead of the usual two! quite a feat honestly. The beckon of the bar called to her soon enough however, and Teddy decided to make a beeline for that most sacred of places. In truth they all sounded the same to her, but who she guessed was Penny called out to her,

"I say, I say there, Teddy!! Off to find one of those burly working boys to quench your needs?!"

A horrific clamouring of titillated giggles and girlish giddiness echoed from behind her. Teddy didn't even look back when she replied,

"No. I'm just off to get absolutely shitfaced, so don't you mind me."

She was rather proud to say that the maddening enthusiasm stopped firmly short there.

Teddy continued to spend the remainder of the evening by the bar. She spoke to few, and refused many that offered her. To her, the sooner this blasted thing was done the better. I mean, good god was it all tediously inane, boring as sin too honestly. You would have thought with all the cash they had to freely spend, the upper classes would know how to have a good time. But nope. Meaningless mingling and dulling dolts were once again the favoured catch of the day.

If only something actually interesting would happen.

---

Well then. Not quite what she'd have picked exactly, but intriguing none the less.

And you know what, if she was being quite honest, her evening had considerably cheered up since the old coot had bit the dust.

Being a possible suspect in a murder investigation had put her friends quite off the idea of keeping her as a dancing monkey. Plus, seeing such esteemed members of the gentry so utterly and completely hysterical was rather entertaining too.

The detective seemed like a pretty smart lad, interesting to talk to as well. 'Enjoyed' probably wasn't the right word to use with regards to her thoughts she'd felt during her questioning. But she certainly hadn't despised it either. All in all, she found the whole affair pretty darned fascinating. She'd never really been a murder suspect before you see.

Overall, she'd had far worse evenings.

As she'd been the first of the detectives suspects to be questioned, she'd been waiting for some time while the other guests revealed what they did and didn't know. She sat in the hallway, flicking through a small rather worn copy of Jane Eyre (ironically), but she couldn't bring herself to pay that much attention to it. In fact, somewhat sub-consciously, she'd began to sketch small rough profiles of all the guests she'd seen been invited into the detectives quarters. Although she couldn't quote get the fortune tellers nose right...

It was this moment Detective Locke finally decided to emerge.

Goodness. This one certainly had a side for the dramatic.

With a shrug, she snapped her book closed. Question was, what to do now then? The others around her seemed similarly puzzled. Should they introduce themselves? Retreat tamely to their rooms?

The heirs and social graces of the aristocracy had been stripped bare from most of the suspects. An ungoverned and uncharted plain of communication stood barren before them, and it seemed Teddy was the only one who was even a little at ease with it.

That sensitive caring part of her soul, the bit she begrudgingly allowed to keep existing, tugged at her inner conscience. A need to do something considerate arose within her. But a determined sense of lower class pride still managed to make itself known, even in a situation such as this. So teddy turned to the bellboy, a kind yet reserved smile on her face,

"Suppose this wasn't on the job description then. Is there anything I can out with at all? Can't imagine things are running all that smoothly downstairs..."

[The Texan Queen]

20:55 PM
Arriving at The Grand Marconi Hotel

A thick cloud of smoke came rolling out of the limousine as the valet held the door open, wafting the puff of smoke away from his face. Out stepped a young man dressed in an all black suit, his blonde hair slicked back in an attempt to manage it and a blunt sticking out of his mouth. He stood by the door for a few seconds, taking a few deep drags before exhaling smoke into the valet’s face. The blonde haired man could tell it irritated the car hop tremendously and the fact that he couldn’t smart off to him was bothering the boy even more.

“Lance!” A shrill, high pitched voice pierced through the silent tension between the two young men and they both snapped their heads in the direction of the voice. A tall, thin, blonde woman dressed in red was storming towards the two of them with a scowl etched into her face.

“Oh, hey mom,” The blonde answered casually as he continued to smoke.

“You’re late,” She snapped and reached for the illegal substance her son was holding, but he jerked his hand up and away so it was just out of her reach.

“I know. I, uh, got caught up with some friends.” He took another drag and thought about blowing the smoke in his mother’s direction but thought it was best not to rile her up anymore, so he sent the smoke back towards the valet.

“Give. Me. That.” His mother snatched the blunt from his fingers and tossed it on the ground, stamping it out with her black heels. “Spray on some cologne, get your mask and get your happy ass up to that party. Now.” She didn’t wait for her son to fire back a smart ass comment, she turned on her heels and rushed off to the hotel entrance.

Lance chuckled as he watched his mother stomp her way back to the party, annoying her was his favorite hobby. He turned back to the limo and reached inside for some cologne to appease his mother with even though he knew the smell wouldn’t be so easily masked. He also grabbed a couple more party favors and stowed them away inside his jacket pocket for later.

“I don’t have any cash on me, but…” Lance reached inside his jacket and pulled out another blunt and handed it to the valet. “You look like you could use this,” he laughed and gave the boy a pat on the back before heading up to the hotel entrance himself.

22:00 PM
The Terrace

Lance had been in engaging in quite the interesting conversation with another masked guest at the party. He flagged down a waiter and ordered the both of them another whiskey on the rocks since both of their drinks had gotten low throughout their conversation.

“Sounds like you’re going to be set after that though,” Lance said and reached for some appetizers from the table behind them. “My family is obnoxiously rich, but I still wouldn’t turn down that kind of money…” He said through bites of food and shrugged his shoulders, “Too bad she’s being a bitch about it.”

“You know what?” He chuckled and turned back around to the table and scanned it, for what he wasn’t sure. His eyes landed on a knife left behind by the food crew and quickly grabbed it and handed it off to the man across from him, “Fuck it, take care of her,” he laughed jokingly with the masked man.

“I’m gonna go find a place to smoke, I’ll catch you later.”

23:49 PM
The Broom Closet

Lance pulled the door closed to the broom closet as he shook of his sport coat. He wrapped his arms around the dark haired girl he had been shameless flirting with earlier on and pushed her back against the wall.

Things were just heating up between the two of them and he was just about to unzip the back of her dress when a loud scream startled the two of them. Lance figured it was just some little housewife overreacting to a spilt glass of rose so he went back in to kiss her, but she was already pushing passed him to go investigate.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” He groaned and shoved his hands in his pants to adjust himself to hide the evidence of what almost was. Snatching his sport coat off the closet floor he walked out after the dark haired woman to see what happened. Someone better have died or I’m going to pissed.

04:15 AM
Hotel Entrance

Lance stood by the entrance of the hotel with his godfather, Raoul Marconi, the two of them in a heated conversation. “He can’t fucking keep us here. Doesn’t he need a warrant? I’ve already told him I was getting blue balled in the damn broom closet with some chick when it happened,” He spat and looked off in the direction of the detective.

[Rayfire]

Mingling with the rich and powerful has become a regular occurrence for Jason. While he wasn't fond of it he still had appearances to keep. Many recognized him by his favorite style of masks which always featured a sense of ying and yang and his friendly demeanor however with the recent rumors of his drug addiction Jason's usual charming and outgoing personality seemed subdued. He kept his mingling to a minimum which was highly noticeable since he usually always made a point to chat with everyone. This time around he didn't talk much and seemed to be people watching. Even after everyone found the dead Baroness he kept to himself. He tactfully answered all the detectives questions with the rest of them but his nerves was visibly a wreck and he wanted to escape their temporary jail more then anyone. "Please work dutifully and get your man detective so we can go home to our beds"

With that said he floated away from the group and hovered around the balcony. He had seen actress Coraline many times yet didn't know exactly how to approach the beautiful lady in this situation. So he regulated himself to watching from a short distance.

[Mystress of Shadows]

As Cora was floating around the ballroom in her daze, her eyes met with a familiar face. Bryan - or rather, Mr. Daggerty as she would like to call him in this moment. She felt her heart flitter for but a moment, but not out of attraction. He had smiled knowingly at her. That alone filled her with a nervous energy. She quickly diverted her eyes, praying he would not stop her.

Of all times, now is the last time I want to be seen with him, she thought. Especially in a scene like this.

For anyone watching her, the discomfort showed plain as day. A darting glance trying to find something else to distract her. Pursed lips as she switched direction ever so slightly to move away from the balcony. A hand paying with one of the beads on her necklace.

To make things more complicated for her, Cora hadn't expected him to be at the party. She'd been going to the party for years, and not once had she seen him. She would have been the first to recognize him, mask or no mask, and he most certainly hadn't been in the crowd last year, or the year before. She would know. She spoke to every person at least in passing every year. That is, every year before this one as the death of the baroness occurred before she could. If she had known he was here, she could have easily avoided him and kept her composure. Actually, she may not have needed to avoid him as much with their masks, but now, everyone could see who everyone was. Someone like herself, a famous movie actress with growing popularity, had an image to keep the moment anyone knew who she was. Cora had learned that the hard way, and the last thing she needed was another embellishment on her already "dirty" record.

As Cora began to make her way across the floor and away from Mr. Daggerty, she could only hope no one would notice and that Mr. Daggerty would keep his distance, at least for now.