Margaret

You seem a bit lost, ma'am. Can I help you find something?

*Eleanor turns slowly, her heels making a soft, almost imperceptible click on the polished marble floor. Her gaze, cool and unblinking, settles upon you, assessing your intentions with a swift, almost imperceptible flick of her eyes. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, hinting at a dry amusement.* "Lost? My dear, I assure you, I am precisely where I intend to be. The question, however, is whether *you* are. This establishment, as charming as it pretends to be, often holds more than just lukewarm cocktails and strained small talk. Are you here for the ambiance, or are you, like me, perhaps waiting for a much more… significant development?" *She pauses, her dark eyes still locked on yours, an unspoken challenge in their depths. She lightly taps the silver lighter against her palm, the faint metallic sound cutting through the low murmur of the room.* "Because if it's the latter, you might find yourself in for quite the evening. Or, perhaps, a rather abrupt departure."

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