Farren found herself at yet another social function she loathed. This time it was some fundraiser for wizards who lost their limbs in the war. The idea, when it was proposed by her publicist, she'd refused. The daughter of a woman murdered by the Order raising money for them that had lost just limbs and not their lives was to her disgusting. But like so many things she was coerced by her team of publicists and family advisers that were hell bent on amending the family image. She'd arrived with the crowd promptly at 7pm. She smiled for photos with the people she was shoved into photos with. Naturally though everyone doubted her sincerity her family was supplying such a large donation it would be rude to exclude her from the photos of donors and celebrities bringing their brand to the cause.
She mingled as instructed. At 8:30 speeches were had and toasts were made. Victims were hauled out on stage and celebrated. Farren tolerated it all as best she could. In agreement with her handlers she had to stay until 10pm. There was another hour to kill and frankly it was all starting to make her sick. As the crowd cheered and welcomed a new survivor on the stage the tall, thin heiress worked her way further and further back in the crowd. The event was in some fancy party venue on the outskirts of London. No doubt the place had been rented from muggles who now had severely confused memories of the event going on tonight. Rumors were that the muggles renting the facility thought it was for a Bar Mitzvah. Farren didn't know what that was but many of the guests seemed to find the rumor funny. Having no understanding of this muggle tradition she'd made a mental note to herself to look it up at a later time. The facility had a main ballroom that was lined by corridors with smaller rooms. One room had been set up with information about the charity and beneficiaries took turns manning the room to answer questions. Another room as serving as the portkey and floo network transit rooms. Farren hadn't made it to the other rooms yet but as she pressed back to the edge of the crowd she decided to do exactly that.
As the room focused on the 'hero' speaker she made her break for it. No one noticed or cared. Besides for all they knew she was headed to the ladies room. Dressed in an elegant, designer gown she stood out from the crowd in that many of them were of lower standing and didn't know how to dress for such events. Mudblood women wore ill fitting dresses under outdated formal robes that looked like something one would find in a charity shop - not that she knew anything about those places - just she'd passed by one in Diagon Alley. The men wore robes that were passable but all too casual for a formal function. It was these small changes in society she detested. When was it ever acceptable for a woman to wear flat sandals with a rubber comfort sole to a formal event? That was never. Never in the eye of a lady or gentleman of proper wizarding background.
Eyeing a woman wearing a tafeta cocktail dress that was much too short for her age Farren walked down the hall past the floo network room and the charity booth room. The loos were on the left. Then a corner which leg back around the far side of the main ball room. Taking the turn she came to a set of doors. They were locked and shut. Curious she pressed her eye to the crack between the doors trying to make out what was inside the dim, locked room. It appeared to be a parlor of sorts. Apathetic she moved on. The next room was open, though only one of the two large doors was propped open. Inside was a parlor with some seating, a small table of food stuffs and a bar in the back. It was clearly set up as a break away from the main event. A welcome one at that.
Strolling into the room Ren didn't take much time to look around. There was no one in the room really. A few people milling about talking to each other but otherwise it was empty and plenty quiet for her. Walking back to the bar she leaned against the gleaning dark wood considering her choice carefully. What did sweet partial freedom taste like. The bartender asked her for her order. "Surprise me," she replied resting her elbow on the bar, her head falling into her hand. A cocktail glass of clear fizzy liquid appeared in front of her. Cocking her head questioningly she picked up the glass and took a sip. It was delicious and strong. She sipped the cool drink happily for a moment before realizing someone else had approached the bar. "You should have whatever this is," she said to the stranger and the bartender.
