2011-01-06 - Being for the benefit of...

Like something designed from a fairy tale, the great castle that stands over New Port City is a solid structure of white marble and high-rising spires. From a defensive standpoint, it's quite useless -- but from an aesthetic one, it's quite lovely.

The main courtyard of the castle has been cleared, and a small army of valets are handling transportation that the guests may be taking; parking cars, arranging them, and keeping everything straight for future reference when those guests leave.

It's a cold evening, and one can see their breath outside. The snow on the grounds only seems to accentuate the fairy-tale quality of the castle -- as though it too were hewn of ice, sparkling in the light of the moon.

Inside the castle, there are already servants waiting to attend to the guests. They wait to relieve the guests of their coats, as well as to offer beverages, appetizers, and to direct them towards seating where appropriate -- pretty much everything one might expect from a ritzy number like this.

The interior of the castle is just as extragavant as the exterior. The foyer is decorated in antique white marble, which is only accentuated by the warm lighting. Sweeping staircases lead down to meet in the broad foyer, which has plenty of room for all sorts of people to fit comfortably in here. All told, it's quite lovely, elegant without being /too/ overbearingly lavish.

Guests are led through here and up to the ballroom, which is a huge open hall of marble, lit by exsquisite chandeliers and other tasteful, non-intrusive lighting. The floor has been polished to reflection, and there are tables toward the outskirts of the dance floor to allow for plenty of space. A raised podium is on the far side, where a band waits, quietly tuning their instruments.

One would never know that this place had once been attacked, or that the royal family had been murdered here.

Speaking of royalty -- thus far, everything is timed like clockwork.

Waiting for the guests as they arrive is none other than Relena Peacecraft herself. Though she may be in her late teens, one would not know it by her appearance -- dressed resplendantly in a tasteful gown of sapphire, her hair done up and pinned to the nape of her neck. Earrings of gold and lapis bring out the colour in her eyes; a slender chain of gold is around her neck, on which hangs a tiny, intricate pendant of the earth wrapped by laurels.

She waits with her hands folded before her, a warm smile of absolute confidence on her face, welcoming and gracious toward the guests that are bound to arrive any time.

...Privately, she hopes that smile hides the stark nervousness that thrums just beneath the surface.

Five guests, of the GoLion team, show at the gates after coming up in a appointed limo. Four of them, all of the guys, are dressed in Federation dress uniforms, including one small kid with glasses who seems easily excitable and another that seems three times the size of the kid in glasses, pulling on the collar of his uniform. "UGH! Why did they make these uniforms so small!?" The large man says. "Because you had to have your before party supper, Tsuyoshi!" Says the smaller kid. However, following behind them is a young lady, dressed in a pink and white dress with a Silver and diamond tiara upon for forehead, escorted in on the arm of a man in a Federation Uniform with long black hair.

Cagalli Yula Athha hates parties. Well, no -- she loves parties. She hates /galas/. But this is one of those things that she feels obligated to -- though she doesn't know Relena that well, her father and Relena's were close before the incident, and she feels as though it would be disrespectful to her father to do otherwise.

The Princess has finally decided that she doesn't need to wear a pretty dress at formal occasions, even if people want her to; if she feels like it she can, and if she doesn't, she doesn't have to. Instead, she wears the simple deep purple sportcoat with gold trim of the Athha family of Orb.

The Princess looks surprisingly confident as she heads into the party, despite the fact that practically every party experience she has ever had has been deeply and authentically terrible. (Or at the very least, stupid.) Her stride is more confident than it has been in recent months.

Her hair is still kind of a scruffy mess, though.

Finally. There is a party that Quatre did not start, and is quite a ways above his standard. One would normally expect that someone like Quatre - who has such an exquisite fashion taste - to have high standards. Especially after a life of luxory in the Winner family. But after living for a few years with the Maganac folk, one learns to cope with less. In fact, parties were more fun with friends. Still. He knew how to dress for a party such as this. And a slight bit of curiousity had overtaken him. A woman, going by Relena Peacecraft, had spoken on a feed he'd been pointed to. Words that had played on the very strings of his heart, like a violin being playing a most beautiful tune. Someone who reflected a similar will for peace and pacifism.

Yet, ever still, Rashid had demanded to come along. Quoting a bad feeling that Quatre himself simply did not share. Of course, that'd meant that the bearded man had become subject to Quatre's ability to pick the perfect uniform, without taking away the man's masculinity. Though the chest piece held a set of frills, they were so dark and went well with the rest of the tan brown of the two piece suit, it looked quite amazin.

Quatre himself had chosen a getup that was more simple. Old clothes from when he'd lived with the Winners, at L4. But old did not mean bad. By god, no. A pair of dark blue pants, darker dress shoes - a white button up shirt, covered with a red-tan colonial styled vest. And to top it all off, a bow-tie around his neck and a set of fancy looking cufflinks.

So, together, he and Rashid wander into the massive hall, side by side. They both have a non-descript brown leather coat over their arms, which they proceed to hand to the servants as they come in, bowing their heads slightly at them in thanks. "You can go, Rashid." The blonde gundam pilot smiles at the man. "Go on. Mingle." The arab looking man bows at Quatre. "Very well. But if you need me." - "I'll be fine Rashid." - "Very well." The man, not looking entirely sure, does indeed leave.

That's when the young man turns his attention on the presence of the richer blonde princess and steps towards her at a casual, yet certain, pace. And then, before her, he stops. Smiling that kind and white-teethed smile... and he kneels. He kneels deeply before her, hands on one leg as he kneels, bowing one head... and waits to be asked to stand up again. However, he did speak. "It is an honor to be able to attend to your gala of peace, miss Peacecraft."

It's hard to say when she arrived, but when she was /noticed/, that's a whole other story.

She stands at five-nine before the heels of her shoes come into play, wearing a close-cut, floor-length wine-colored gown that leaves her back bare from shoulders to the small. The neckline plunges dangerously low to complement a generous bustline, with a thin magenta-tint gauze that stretches over her chest and all the way up to her neck. The slit that runs up the right leg stops at around mid-thigh, occasionally letting one long, tone and slender leg sheathed in dark stockings peek through. A wide-band silver bracelet-- nothing too fancy-- sits around her left wrist.

Her purple hair is very carefully trimmed and cut, falling to her waist; the darkness of it's color sets an amazing contrast to pale and flawless skin, and her red-hue eyes are accented with light cosmetics. She carries herself in a confident yet modest manner. When she speaks, it's delicately and politely, trying her best to be humble in the presence of others.

She is, without a doubt, the most screaming hot woman 97.85% of you will ever see in your entire life.

What 1% of the people at this party know:

This is Tieria Erde, Gundam Meister of Celestial Being.

acua Huitl had been poked both by the Gundam Fight Comission of Brazil to go. She's also been nudged by Captain Jimil of all people. So she at least could turn up here with it being neutral ground. She is nothing too fancy her hair is down, but it seems she may have a more fancy head band in there? Just a quick of the fighter girl. She's seeming without an escort as she enters and just waring an dress that's nice enough and clear a friend likely helped her due to her fashion sense. Let's just not go there shall we? She's not a diaster and hopefully lessons from Roger Smith will prevent all out diaster or at least a gundam fight in the middle of the party?

"Do I really have to go?" Ted Morrison, Exalted Dictator of the Free Planet Erehwon, muses outloud inside his own personal transport as he put on the last few adjustment to his costume. "Because, seriously, who cares. I don't think they've even /heard/ of me, even less our /world/." The entity to which Morrison was talking -- which he entierly know is listening and has been for three hours straight suffering the man's own unrelenting tide of complaints -- is notably not answering or honoring that question with an answer. "Beside!" Morrison continues as he adjusts his gold-thrimmed hat, matching with his black and dark blue formal uniform, thrimmed with silver and gold on the lines, "I'm still pretty sore you tricked me into coming here by sayin' you had that new shipment in. Seriously, I'm telling you, it ain't gonna matter one bit I'm here or not. And I'm /STILL/ pretty annoyed about that!" "You'll get over it." At last answers the on-board AI, ALEXANDRIA, as the escort ship brings slows down. More bitching later, Ted Morrison, a man in his late twenties with rust-colored hair, a small beard of the same color, dressed up in an black and green suit suit with shoulder pads, complemented with golden frills on the edge of them. Various military medals decorates the left side of his chest, including honorary mentions. He wears a cap, similar to an admiral's, with the clear symbol of the Erehwonian Free Planet -- a hand holding a leaf tightly at a fragmented section of land, keeping them together -- visible on the front. It also appears in one of the medals. Stopping a few moments at the entrance, Morrison grunts, clearing his throat as he tightens his white gloves. "Arrright, might as well make most of it." There's better be booze, here.

Appearing almost like a ghost, a man in a off white suit hangs near the back of the event. From head to toe, the man was almost dressed entirely in white save for his red cravat and black eye patch covering his right eye. He smiles as he scans the party, trying to remain as unintrusive as possible from his placement.

As he watches the room, sipping a simple glass of red white. Somehow, the red liquid and his outfit never meet either meaning he is some sort of emasculate figure or he is just practiced in keeping his attire untouched by the world around him.

He notes Tieria's entrance almost immediately, smiling for a moment. He finishes his glass and starts for the oddly alluring leader of Celestial Being.

"Didn't know you had a sister." Neil Dylandy says, standing relaxed before he looks around the party again.

"Didn't think you liked it on the ground."

Another seemingly unknown arrival is young man that looks midly disconcerted about his attire. Not that it's out of place: An elegently crafted black tuxedo blends into the background, where his hair does not... However, the eyes are another matter.

Eigh Murasame stares at people in an odd manner, regardless of who... Seemingly looking over their shoulder, or into empty space, with a slightly wide-eyed expression. There's even, every so often, the bearest hint of a gleam in his eye, as he passes his gaze back and forth across the crowd.

For a moment, his eyes settle on Macua... And there's a brief look of disdain on his face, or more likely dissapointment, as he soon looks away, glancing to Quatre, curiously. For the moment, he seems quite... Alone.

To an outsider, it might be odd to find Raidiese F. Branstein, the estranged youngest child of the Branstein family, here tonight. However, Raidiese felt it only right that he attend to the party this evening, as his father is MIA, his brother is a wanted criminal, and the rest of his family is trying to recover from being on the wrong side of the Divine Wars. However, the Branstein family has history with the Peacecraft family, So Rai isn't about to let them be unrepresented tonight. The honor of his family name demands no less.

Raidiese finds his own transportation, taking a civilian transport shuttle from Berlin down to the Sanc Kingdom. Officially the EFA doesn't know where he is, though he did tell Aya where he was going. The EFA has always been on shaky ground with this nation though, so Rai only requested three days leave for personal reasons.

Naturally, the youngest son of the Bransteins is dressed impeccably, in a classic tuxedo. While he of course respects the request to come unarmed, he does bring a slim radio with him, hidden inside his coat, which can be used to contact the Hiryu Custom if necessary, or set to a broad channel for speaking in general with the EFA, though it lacks the codes for the secure frequencies.

Immediately on entering, he makes his way to where the hostess is greeting the guests, and gives her a formal bow. "Good evening, Ms. Peacecraft. I'm Raidiese Branstein. It's good to see you in good health. My family was deeply saddened to hear what happened to your own."

The four men and woman who arrive at the gates are greeted almost immediately by the staff members. The staff is there to see to their comfort, and so they descend almost immediately, to see to their coats, offer them refreshments, and usher them into the foyer and ballroom beyond.

At a quiet signal from Relena, the band begins to strike up their instruments, beginning with a quiet classical number that seems to echo from every distant corner of the dance hall -- primarily strings, accented with the warm tones of horns and a soft trumpet; that seems to be the signal for things to really start in earnest.

When Cagalli graces the room with her presence, Relena's eyes settle on her -- she smiles, perhaps not having expected her to arrive. She doesn't know her well, but their fathers had worked together. Her real father, that is; the late King Peacecraft.

In fact, she's just about to head in Cagalli's direction, but she's waylaid by the charming gentleman who goes so far as to kneel before her. That, at least, seems to elicit a reaction from the last public scion of the Peacecraft family -- her face flushes a little, and she gestures gracefully for Quatre to stand back up again.

"Thank you. But please, such displays are hardly necessary; please stand up. It's a pleasure to meet you. You must be the son of the Winner family..." Those slate-blue eyes linger on him for a moment, briefly studying his face. "Quatre, is it? Quatre Raberba Winner...?" She's heard of his family, even if they haven't necessarily met directly.

For the most part, the staff is unobtrusive, only descending to offer morsels or help if they're given eye contact or flagged down directly. Tieria is (perhaps thankfully) not harassed (though she may possibly be stared at surreptitiously, when she isn't looking at them, because let's face it, she /is/ hot).

Eight Murasame is similarly ignored -- though perhaps more as a result that Relena hasn't yet had a chance to personally greet all of her guests.

Rai F. Branstein, however, manages to divert Relena's attention somewhat from the scion of the Winner family. She glances over as he approaches, earrings clinking softly as she does. "Mmm? Branstein..."

She had done some reading, even if she hadn't experienced any of this -- the Branstein family had history with the Peacecraft family, but there's no recognition. Relena inclines her head, graceful; returning the bow. "I see. Thank you so much for your condolences; my mother and father would have appreciated the support of their old friends. It is my hope to continue rebuilding, and to forge ahead with their vision." Relena smiles, faintly. "Thank you for coming, Rai."

Staren is not a party person. But his parents think he should get out more, and... Well, it seems like he doesn't get much chance to talk to folks involved in the war outside the battlefield now. M-maybe it would be good. So it is, that the Star Hawk... Is stopped at the border. What? Look, he's not here to fight... It's just a handy way to get around! It can just fly in and drop him off! No? They won't allow that either? Well, Staren _did_ get a method of transportation just for getting around in civilian urban areas... Now is as good a time as any to take it out for a spin!

So it is that a young boy rides up to the valet on... what is that? It looks like a motorcycle with legs-with-wheels instead of wheels! It squarts down, allowing Staren to get off. He removes his blue and his helmet and stuffs them in a storage compartment, and takes off a wristwatch-like device, passing the EW-band to a rather confused valet.

Staren hasn't had formal clothes since he got a suit to go to a relative's wedding a few years back -- He'd since outgrown it. However, back when Katharon was the Orb Union, Staren picked up a uniform... it's formal, right? A blue jacket, with a white collar, chest, and upper back, and a white stripe running down the center, with black belt and cuffs and a red scarf tucked inside, and plain white pants. He offers a smile and a wave to Quatre and Cagalli, but in the end gravitates towards Macua who he feels most comfortable talking to. "Sooooo. Um. Hi. ...What, uh... what do we do at an event like this, exactly?"

If there's one thing Cagalli /does/ like about these ridiculous, expensive social functions, it's food. When her seemingly inevitable meeting with Relena is momentarily stopped by a kneeling Quatre, she decides to avail herself of the refreshments for a few moments. If she didn't have such an extensive cardio workout as part of her morning routine she would be /so fat/, it would be /so terrible/.

Deciding to allow Relena to greet some of the other guests first, Cagalli decides to meet some people she hasn't actually met before... not the least of which is that curiously androgynous young man in the tux. That awkward stare is a little familiar -- if only because Cagalli herself is terrible at parties.

Walking over, she asks, "... you came alone too, huh? Is this your first big... gala... thing?" Not exactly the greatest start to the conversation -- but then, Cagalli isn't exactly a stellar conversationalist.

Quatre's spidy-senses are tingling. That, or it was just a normal human's intuition. Either way, he realizes that he is being stared at by someone other than Relena Peacecraft, or the man who'd wandered up besides him - mister Brainstein. However, as much as there is that slight burning curiousity in that back of his mind, wanting to know who had just glanced at him, the short blonde waits patiently. After all, he is being spoken to. He carefully comes up from his kneeled position, and waits until he is fully upright before he finally speaks in reply.

"M'lady." He bows his head again and gestures his hands in a way that shows appreciation of sorts. "You are correct. I am indeed the only son of the Winner family. I am surprised, and honored, you recognize me." In fact, the main reason he was surprised was because his family really did not speak of him anymore since he'd given up on their perfect vision of pacifism. The smile on his face turns a bit more cheerful though, as he loosens up a bit.

"I am amazed that there are people like you out in this world, misses Peacecraft." He raises a hand to his chest. "It warms my heart to see such good in mankind still, with hopes of peace." His eyes almost sparkle with youthish glee. "Now if you will excuse me." He bows his upper body once more, and turns his attention towards Raidiese for a moment. "Good to meet you too, mister Branstein. I hope you will enjoy this evening as well, amongst people with a like mind." And with that said he takes a step backwards and finally lets curiousity take over.

Where he'd sensed that look coming from, he noticed Eight Marasuma - and for a moment realizes that he'd been waved at, and casually waves back at Staren. Though it barely registered, he believed to recognize him. Maybe he should catch up? But no. For now, he was on his way to Marasuma, who looked somewhat alone. He stops before Eight and bows slightly before him. "Good evening." He starts a conversation, coming upright again and extends a hand. They were in Europe after all, so that was the proper way to greet. "Quatre Raberba Winner." He then announces himself, expecting a similar introduction back. The night was still young, he could catch up with others as the night would progress.

Macua Huitl is thankful and polite to the staff it's as if she has understanding of the job and what they may put up with from day to day. At least they are not stuck in humiliating outfits. She tries a few things, wisely doesn't ask what they are, and just enjoys things. She's talking to a few minor people but for the moment leaves Relena alone for the moment. She's seeing Staren comming in and then feels that skin on the back of her neck crawl she looks around and sees Eight for a moment. She turns away also the look, she's not going to start an incident if she can help it. "Oh hello Staren, keep out of trouble and meet people and don't /talk/ about your work. Seriously don't."

People stare; Tieria smiles at some and waves at others with a delicate wiggle of fingers. Despite the occasional small talk that she's forced to engage in, there's a pocket of time that does not result in the Gundam Meister being surrounded by men that are twice "her" age. That is the pocket of time that Neil Dylandy slips in close to talk to the woman in the wine dress.

Turning her head, she slowly looks over her shoulder to regard Neil with the most polite stare and small smile in the world-- indeed, it is almost as though this is an entirely different person. "A sister? I don't," she says, ever-so politely, even tacking on a small giggle. There's no falsettos there, either... the Seravee pilot sounds like a woman, /period/.

But then her eyes lid halfway, and the voice drops down to the tone that Neil is more aquainted, quiet and hushed. "I detest it here. But being in the thick of this many will allow us to see how relaxed our opposition may be."

Back to the woman's voice, expression positively /beaming/.

"It's worth a relaxing evening, don't you think~?"

Not being immediatedly greeted works fine for Ted. He'll be going along toward the bar, now, if you don't mind-- "You should go greet the hosts." The annoyingly familiar voice of his ship's AI whispers in his ear bud. Morrison grimaces faintly under his cap. Godamnit, now what does she think she's doing, baby sitting him in formal events? Yeah. Yeah apparently, that's what's going on, apparently. Ted's ego sinks down a new low. Alright, alright, best to make a good impression, while he's here. The Exalted Leader of Erehwon makes his way toward the center of the greet and meets of the new guests, where the new monarch is seeing to the new arrivals. Problem is, he has no clue who half of these people are... no, that's generous, he only know who's the young girl is. But wait, that guy, that blond guy, he sounds familiar... "Alexia." Morrison mutters in his mic. "Who's the kid?" A split moment later, she answers, "Lt. Raidiese F. Branstein, EFA Ace Pilot--" "Was it the kid that came in the way of my AC/10 on the White Star?" "Yes." "Sweet." Morrison approaches, clearing up his voice as he approaches Raidiese, tipping his hat as he declares friendily, a wide smile on his face. "Ahhhh! Raidiese F. Branstein, is it? Good to see you without a few tons of metal surrounding you." Ted says, tipping up his hat in greeting while handing out a hand. His attitude shifts almost immediatedly, faking off an genine air of self-confidence and assurance. "Ted Morrison. We've met during the assault on the Balmarian Fortress."

Staren tilts his head. "A lot of people here are pilots... isn't talking shop normal?"

Beat.

"Oh. _That_ work." he nods. "Of course. Although, I hope that the Alchemic Drive will lead to something I can talk about... but it's too early to tell yet. Oh hey, food, wanna get some?" He suggests, and starts to move in that direction...

Neil is a little unnerved by how well Tieria could change into this... disguise. If he didn't know the other Meister so well, he might've been fooled as well. Still the Irish Meister merely smiles when he hears the usual Tieria whisper to him. Somehow that was more comforting than seeing Tieria in such an outfit.

"I suppose. I actually didn't have an anterior motive in coming here. I just thought it would be good for me to get out into current affairs considering I'm very out of the loop."

"Still, It is a shame. If I did hope for one change, it would've been that you loosened up a bit." Neil receives another glass of wine from a tray and sips it calmly.

"I have my sources of information," Relena states to Quatre, with a quiet laugh. "And thank you for the compliment, but that's not entirely true. I would hardly think of myself as a dying breed -- there will always be hearts that wish for peace. I humbly consider myself merely a voice for these people; a means through which they can express their desires, and in so doing help each other to build a better world."

"--Ah, but of course," she says, at length. "Don't let me monopolise all of your time. Both of you, please enjoy yourselves tonight." Relena offers a warm smile to both Rai and Quatre, letting them excuse themselves and return to mingling.

Relena's eyes drift across the room, taking note of the people present, and what they're up to; who speaks to whom, and other details. Her initial plan had been to greet Cagalli, since the Athha family is one that she's passing familiar with -- much like the Bransteins -- but it seems the other princess is now occupied.

Turning, Relena finds herself looking over the guests at large, left with an instant to breathe and collect her composure. Everything is running quite well; all according to plan -- and she smiles, just faintly. No disasters.

Perhaps all her worrying an hour before the festivities started was for nothing...

A relaxing evening? A meeting for peace and justice, a charity drive to give money to those who are in need? That's not the sort of thing that the world's most classic (some might say aged) supervillain approves of!

Up to No Good is practically his stock in trade, as they say. The massive Aerial Fortress Ghoul descends into Sanc Kingdom territory, likely setting off every alarm in the place; it lands, uninterested and uncaring as to whether it is permitted or allowed to be there or not - for after all, Relena Peacecraft and the Sanc Kindom was a place of kindness and pacifism. And anyone who dared raise a hand in this place would likely be looked upon as an aggressor... even if they were aggressing a man who by all rights should not be allowed in the light of day.

Dr. Hell walks calmly into the party without a hint of remorse, ignoring any attempts to bar him entry with a calm and cold and heartless glare, the evil of his heart deeper than any weapon and more penetrating than any sword. At his side is Baron Ashura, the half-man half-woman Mykenese mummy, to ensure his safety; at his back is Count Brocken, the headless zombie general. Between them, he was absolutely confident: nothing was going to cause him harm.

It never hurt to take precautions.

Dr. Hell enters the grand arrangement, his evil yellow eyes sweeping over the assembled guests. His lips curl upwards into a sneer of sneers through his wild white beard, and the old man gestures at his servants, both of whom bow to Relena with all the formality and dignity of an ancient courtroom.

"Good evening," Dr. Hell observes, "I hope the festivities haven't died down just yet... but it seems to me that we are just in time."

Relaxing evening. Yep.

Right up until Dr. Hell arrives.

'Relaxing' becomes a strange word to use in his presence. Of course, with him here, it couldn't get much more tense or uncomfortable; he has a zombie and a mummy in tow, and it's hard to top that.

And then Gym Ghingnham walks in.

Sure, he's dressed in a nice suit, and sure, he actually left his sword at the door (and casually and subtly threatened the life of the man he handed it to), but it's impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He's a big man, broad-shouldered and with a veritable mane of hair, striding into the gala like he owns the place right alongside Dr. Hell and his entourage.

"Indeed. I hope we have not caused a disturbance with our..." A brief pause. Gym smiles. "...late arrival."

Raidiese offers a polite bow to Quatre when the man looks to him. "The pleasure is mine, Mister Winner." Raidiese doesn't have Relena's sources, so he doesn't recognize the man personally, but he did hear how Relena addressed him, so he can run with that. "I hope you have a pleasant evening as well." He gives another polite nod to Relena when she excuses herself, saying, "Ah, of course Ms. Peacecraft. Good evening to you,"

He's just about to turn and see who else is in the crowd, when one of them finds him. He knows the voice immediately, of course. He didn't expect to see anyone he'd run missions with out here, though, but when Ted is there, Raidiese gives a slight smile and a nod in greeting, "Ah, good evening, President Morrison." Oh yeah, Rai looked up Ted. He looked up everybody he'd fought though the White Star with, looking for potential security threats to warn the EFA about. That mission went very differently than he expected, and Rai wanted to know how the blowback might go.

Of course, what he found on Ted Morrison was far more interesting than he expected. Some of the things that are out there about the man can't be believed. His political career is certainly true, though. The president of an Inner Sphere world. Strange people at the Peacecraft party, it seems. "It's good to see you out of your machine. It's too rare th--"

Then Dr. Hell and Gym Ghingham enter. Two great things to ruin a peaceful evening, all at once. "I believe," Raidiese starts in a low, quiet tone, "This party just got very tense."

 Dr. Hell transmits, "This...ought to be interesting."

 Ascian Luddite transmits, "Doctor?"

 Gym Ghingnham chuckles. "Indeed."

 Dr. Hell transmits, "Oh, just...crashing a party, young man."

 Ascian Luddite transmits, "Are we talking about crashing a beast machine into the party, or more of the... normal crashing?"

 Dr. Hell transmits, "The normal way."

 Ascian Luddite transmits, "Wait, you mean that thing at the Sanc Kingdom?"

 Dr. Hell transmits, "Quite."

 Ascian Luddite transmits, "I don't think I'd quite... fit in there. Besides, I don't even have a nice outfit to wear."

 Ascian Luddite transmits, "Heck, I am lucky I have /two/ different shades of green military outfit to wear."

 Dr. Hell transmits, "Mr. Ghingnham, do you want to handle the little green girl, or shall I?"

Macua Huitl is mentally sending out an SOS any other NewType or anyone with mind powers might pick it up, she needs a distraction anything. "I'd love to but I think right now I see something that might be better suited by my attention." Namely Gym has appeared and there's also Ted so wants to talk to later but for now she's movely quickly but politely to intercept Gym and she pauses.

She notes the lack of sword, Hell gets a suprised look but she's going to be pleasant "Good evening gentlement, what brings a biologist and a warrior such as your selves here?"

Quatre had heard Relena's words, and they'd stuck to his mind. He knew they were true. Perhaps he had simply misworded himself to get that reply. It didn't bother him though. He knew all was well. There is a little back and forth between Eight and Quatre, after which the young man excuses himself and is just about to wander over towards miss Cagalli when suddenly. Dr. Hell drops in, followed by Gym Ghingham. What to do, what to do? He knew them, they were from the Divine Crusaders. Perhaps he could diffuse this? No, it'd be rude not to let miss Relena have her first hand at this.

So, he casually just strolls past Dr. Hell and Gym, throwing them a casual smile - as if he had no clue who they were, and they were just kind neighbours, as he does indeed wander over towards where Cagalli was standing. She reminded him of someone he'd met once before. What'd her name been again? He can't quite remember. The years past were a bit fuzzy to him for some reason. Surely, it'd come back to him. He comes to a halt before the somewhat more casually dressed lady. "Greetings."

Rachel! That was it. Somehow, there was likeness to Rachel. This recognition lingers in his look for a moment, when he then realizes that this must be Cagalli. Right. "Nice to meet you, miss Athha." He bows his head a bit. "Quatre Raberba Winner." He was going to repeat that name a lot today, wasn't he?"

 Gym Ghingnham transmits, "Hmm... after you, Doctor."

 Dr. Hell transmits, "You're too kind."

Gradually, it becomes apparent that there is a commotion outside.

There are guardsmen, but there are only the smallest number needed to ensure the safety of those attending, considering there seems to be an inevitable clashing of factional boundaries in an event open to all. They seem unprepared to use their weaponry, though, and try as they might to dissuade the aerial fortress from landing within the Sanc Kingdom's boundaries, they're unable to stop it.

Neither are the doormen capable of stopping Dr. Hell and his entourage, some of them looking a little pale after the look given to them.

In the marble hall, the other guests gradually come to a nervous halt, quiet chatter starting up.

Towards the back of the room, Relena decides to take positive action from all of this turning into an unpleasant... incident. She strides forward to greet the two disruptive newcomers, but the smile she wears seems just a little fixed. It's like trusting two wolves to mind their own business amongst the sheepfold.

Perhaps she had congratulated herself on a smooth evening just a few moments too soon...

She stands long enough for Dr. Hell's two flunkies to bow to her. Relena returns the gesture, but perhaps keen eyes might note that she bows just a bit more shallowly; an unspoken slight. She steps just a hair closer to speak quietly to them, her tone quiet but firm and unwavering. If this bearded man and his honour guard make her nervous, she doesn't show it at all.

"You are indeed just in time." Relena keeps those slate-blue eyes fixed on Dr. Hell, evidently fearless. "However, I'm afraid I must ask you to take your aerial fortress somewhere else. We do not allow such instruments of war within the Sanc Kingdoms' borders. I will not mind your presence here, so long as you do not disturb the peace or the other guests."

Half a glance is given toward Gym Ghingnham; and there's not very much warm or welcoming in her gaze. These two have the nerve to bull their way into her kingdom, fly in the face of her kingdom's laws, and then expect these people to pander to her?

Relena turns toward the guests, with another of those warm smiles, as reassuring as she can look.

"Please, everyone, be at ease. All are welcome in this hall, provided they abide by the laws of the Sanc Kingdom. As you were." Her eyes turn back toward Dr. Hell and Ghingnham; not quite hard-edged, but getting there.

Her smile seems a little forced as her voice drops into quiet tones. "May I inquire as to the purpose of bringing your--" She gestures, to indicate the aerial fortress outside, "--machine -- here? Guests were explicitly asked to leave such things elsewhere; appropriate transportation was to be provided for their convenience." There's a trace hardness to her words that implies a certain... displeasure. "May I ask you to move it, or will I instead be required to ask you to leave and not return? The choice is yours."

Things written on Ted can be hard to belive. That's because they /are/ hard to belive, depending on where you come from. Before Morrison can have time to reply to the younger pilot, the gala turns into a ... less pleasant turn. At least there weren't any explosions to it. He swears, each Galas he goes into, either turns into an assassination attempt, drunken dignitaries hitting on the wives(or daughter) of OTHER dignitaries thus sparking a war or just some assholes breaking in to make everyone uncomfortable. Ted snaps his fingers, rubbing an index and thumb together. Not holding a drink here. He needs to remedy that. "I'm sure," Morrison says to Rai, watching Relena going up to greet the two new guests. "That it'll turn out quite fine. Not to mention the new Monarch seems to have some guts, unlike some I've met." He peers over the bar. Hmmm. Drink.

Rai's and Quatre's reactions were about what Dr. Hell was expecting; the old man's blue lips twist upwards into a smirk at the words and the look both, a knowing sort of smirk that comes from being absolutely right at least twice. Macua's boldness is briefly intercepted by Count Brocken; the headless horseman of Hell glares (up, as his head is tucked under his armpit) at her calmly before Dr. Hell gives a subtle nod. Immediately, Brocken backs away, allowing her to pass.

"Why, contributing to your cause," Dr. Hell observes passably, "Or were we mistaken, that this is neutral territory and open door to all? Certainly Mr. Ghingnham and myself would *hate* to cause any sort of problems for your lovely evening."

That smirk is just begging to be slapped off the old man's face, but with Baron Ashura and Count Brocken standing right there, any sort of aggression would be pretty damn difficult...not *impossible* by any stretch, but damn difficult. He *knows*, damn his evil yellow eyes and blue skin - he *knows* exactly what he's doing and he's /completely pleased/ with himself, and judging by the smirk on Baron Ashura's... er... faces, and Brocken's, so do they. It's like they're conducting an experiment or something - smug sons of bitches.

"Oh, of course," Dr. Hell replies cheerily, gesturing to Brocken, who pulls out some sort of ridiculously clunky radio. Brocken radios commands into it for a momment, and the Aerial Fortress, with a tremendous roar, takes off into the sky and vanishes into the clouds. "I apologize for my subordinates' rudeness, but Count Brocken refuses to allow me to travel in any vehicle I did not personally build."

Hell's lips spread wide.

"We have quite a few enemies, after all. And it would look *terrible* for the Sanc Kingdom if, during a peaceful event, someone coming in all good faith was assassinated over something as trifling as the lines he has drawn in the sand... wouldn't you say, Miss Peacecraft? Mister Ghingnham?"

"Do apologize, Brocken."

The spectre bows once again, pressing his hand over his heart. "My deepest apologies, my lady." He might almost be snickering.

 Relena Peacecraft murmurs quietly, but she sounds a little angry, nonetheless. "These two..."

 Quatre Raberba Winner transmits quietly, "Don't let them get to you, miss Relena."

 Relena Peacecraft transmits, quietly, "Thank you, Mr. Winner. I will handle these two."

<Radio: A - Chat> Quatre Raberba Winner replies, equally quietly, "I am sure you will do well."

<Radio: A - Chat> Macua Huitl transmits, "I'll keep them busy. Gym and I at least have one thing in common, we're weapons."

<Radio: A - Chat> Relena Peacecraft makes a small, disapproving sound.

<Radio: A - Chat> Quatre Raberba Winner whispers, "Weapons are not destined to remain weapons."

<Radio: A - Chat> Quatre Raberba Winner whispers, "Even in the old days, swords could be melted to become farming tools."

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell transmits, "...an' what happens if th' sword's happier bein' a sword?"

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell is clearly thinking of A Person known well to himself and Quatre that starts with an H and ends with an Eero Yuy.

<Radio: A - Chat> Staren Wiremu transmits, "Then they are a person happy to fight. They are still not only a sword."

<Radio: A - Chat> Quatre Raberba Winner lets out a disapproving 'Duoooo...'.

<Radio: A - Chat> Staren Wiremu transmits, "Do I seriously have to tell people this?"

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell transmits, "Sorry, sorry."

Suddenly, Doctor Hell! And Gym!

Staren just stares for a moment. Scenarios play out inside his head -- It seems most likely they're just here to make folks uncomfortable... if they had wanted violence, they were certainly capable of it. Or perhaps they hoped to provoke some... Still, for now he keeps his eyes on them as he takes to the refreshment table, and inwardly sighs at some of the discussion on the Katharon radio.

<Radio> Tightbeam from Duo Maxwell says, "Y'know it's true, though."

<Radio> Tightbeam from Duo Maxwell says, "I don't think he'd be happy bein' anything besides somebody's sword."

Mulling on the thought for a few moments, Tieria remembers the stories that were passed down through Celestial Being and Katharon's chain of command. The skiff in Mexico with the A-LAWS, word of a safehouse being raided and word of the parts that were there nearly being taken. Perhaps they would've have been able to make heads or tails of the technology, but...

... then again, with people like Latooni Subota, Gilliam Yeager, and Paptimus Scirocco at their disposal, it may be possible for things like that to become a security breach. Tieria frowns just a little, but then covers it up with a polite smile. "Surely you wouldn't be making any implications, would you? I mean, this is not precisely the location to talk about your business, is it?"

The woman before Neil Dylandy lifts a hand up to pat on his chest before smoothing down the lapel of his jacket, turning around to face the party as a whole-- as men like Doctor Hell make their arrival, early or late as they may be. And that other man, is /he/ Gym Ghingnham?

The beautiful woman lifts a hand to her chin, a few long strands of dark purple hair shifting around her shoulders. The smile on her face is coy, her voice is innocent-- but undoubtedly someone that has spent as much time with Tieria Erde as Neil Dylandy has will be able to tell what the disguised Gundam Meister means when she says: "Why, they're such loud and interesting people."

Gym, at first, either doesn't acknowledge Macua's presence or doesn't really do much to indicate he even noticed her. A moment after Brocken intercepts and then backs away, he flicks his eyes to her, nodding slightly in at least acknowledgement once he recognizes who it is.

"Indeed," Gym says. "We have come to honor your cause and ensure nothing terrible were to happen during this fine evening." His smile remains. The wolves-among-sheep analogy is an apt one; he looks like he's ready to cause all sorts of problems and is looking for a sign of weakness. Or maybe a spark for the powder keg.

Gym looks up as the roar resounds through the entire area. Turn X stands at rest with the Aerial Fortress, silent but waiting. His eyes briefly pass over Quatre, but he's nobody of concern, at least not with a brief glance like that. His eyes sweep over the collected guests, gazing fearlessly at the assembled, as if daring them to approach.

"Of course, Doctor. Lines such as those can always be swept away and redrawn, but the damage to one's reputation and standing caused by breaking their word..." He shakes his head a little, almost sadly, and then suddenly smiles wider than he had before. "But we've been rude. My apologies."

The warrior bows in a surprisingly courtly manner, a well-practiced gesture if there ever was one. He's had years (and years and years) of experience doing /that/. "We've never formally met. I am Gym Ghingnham; you must be Miss Relena Peacecraft." He offers his hand. "It is an honor to meet someone of your fame and caliber."

Lights shine down from the sky and desecend as the sound of turbines whining fills the night air until the craft lands and rolls up to the valet parking as it's wings fold back, making the black craft no wider or longer then a limonsine. Because being rich is awesome.

Gullwing doors open into a luxurious interior and a young woman with long purple hair in a dark colored dress with silver bracelets around her upper arms and around her neck in zigzag pattern. The young woman stands aside, and another young woman with long purple hair stands up, they could be and probably /are/ fraternal twins. The second is wearing the same dress, but her bracelets and necklace seem to be made of gold.

The girls make it past security with no fuss as their private ride is parked by their chaufeur. The girl with the silver bracelets steps towards Relena and bows deeply at the waist. "Lady Peacecraft." she stands straight again. "My name is Yuuhi Mitsurugi, from the Mitsurugi Zaibatsu Coperation." she holds out a 12 inch tall hexegonal box (which was inspected on the way in), and completely ignoring Dr. Hell and other assorted trouble makers, lifts the top of the box off. "This is a gift."

Inside is a immaculatly carved flower made out of highgrade crystal glass, with petals incredibly thin. "We'd like you to think of it as an example of Mitsurugi's workmanship, for anything you need done in the Sanc Kingdom." Yuuhi steps back and the other girl steps forward.

Meiya Mitsurugi looks far more uncomfortable in the situation then her sister. She eyes Dr. Hell and his cohorts, and damn near glares ice beam daggers from her eyes at Gym, but as she steps up to Relena she clears her throat. "And my name is Meiya, Yuuhi's sister." she opens a leather bound booklet, revealing... a check? inside. "And I would like to present this one million dollar donate from our company to your cause."

"No, no. However is there some business you have me? I can try to meet up with you in the near future. When there aren't any other prying eyes on us." Neil winks at Tieria, playing this up like he's hitting on the other Meister. Partially to sell why he was talking to Tieria this long and partially just to push Tieria's buttons. He is aware of the groaning his safehouse in Mexico caused....however, to be fair, it was completely secure a year ago. It was also the last place he was before he got taken.

"Hmm. They certainly know how to make an entrance, don't they?" Neil sips his drink, scanning Dr. Hell and Gym. He instantly knows what Tieria is hinting at when he talks, keeping his eyes peeled. Dr. Hell is someone Neil can recall hearing some of about. The other man (Gym) is a mystery however. Judging by the amount of groaning on the radio, Gym was about as bad of news as Dr. Hell was. He shoots Tieria a look, smiling as if to cue him for a hint about what they should do. With no weapons on the ground, there wasn't much that Neil could do but wait and observe.

In spite of the rather horrific countenances of the people standing in front of her, or the fact that they are quite obviously trying to make a fool out of her, the young Queen of the Sanc Kingdom stands her ground.

If anything, Relena stands a little straighter at the completely insincere apology. It isn't necessarily the look of somebody angry, but it's obvious that they must have touched a nerve with their little display.

Only when she hears the engines of the fortress roar to life does she seem to relax, but she doesn't do so very much.

"Good," she finally affords, inclining her head in a gesture of... well, not quite apology, but tolerance. "I am somewhat disappointed that you would expect violence from the people of this kingdom, but I suppose we must have time to build our reputation as a place of peace."

She does not attempt to slap the grin off of Dr. Hell's face... even if it /is/ an unreasonable temptation. Instead, Relena puts on her best inviting smile.

"Apology accepted. Thank you for your compliance." To her credit, she ignores Brocken's snickering, at least for the time being.

Gym Ghingnham's bow earns one in kind, with all the grace and poise of somebody who's also accustomed to this kind of thing -- perhaps surprising for somebody so young.

"Yes, you are correct. It is a pleasure to meet you, sir." She laughs quietly as she takes his hand, but she also has the look of someone that... isn't really taken in at all by that courtly charm. "You do me too much honour; I'm hardly famous."

And suddenly, there are other guests greeting her. "You'll have to excuse me for now, though; there are still new arrivals I must greet. Please, enjoy yourselves."

Her eyes linger on Dr. Hell and Gym for just a brief instant longer than they probably should. It's the look of 'don't you /dare/ cause trouble in my hall,' though she wraps it up with a smile.

To Yuuhi and Meiya, the young queen returns the bow with equal formality, smiling toward them. The box is accepted delicately, Relena's eyes drawn to the delicate piece resting within.

"Thank you for your generosity, Yuuhi," she states with a smile, and she has the kind of tone that seems to mean it. "And thank the Mitsurugi Zaibatsu Corporation, as well. It is a beautiful gift..."

Her throat goes a little dry at the donation Meiya offers, and for a brief instant, Relena offers only a funny little sound that's... almost a word. Wow. That's a lot of money. Specifically, that's a lot of good that can be done with that money. The charities are going to weep when they see the zeroes on that check...

"Your donations are extremely generous," Relena manages, recovering her poise and smiling warmly. "On behalf of those who will be benefiting from such a generous donation, I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"By the by, my dear princess," Dr. Hell murmurs as she passes him, "An esteemed colleague of mine wishes to give his regards - and a message." The old man's voice lowers drastically.

"There are a million terrible things in this universe, terrors which no man can reason with, which no pacifism can defeat. The monsters that lurk under your bed at night are real, have always been real - and your kind words, no matter how sweet and honeyed and noble, will not be enough to save them. Your money is better spent elsewhere - rebuild, remodel, repair, and rescue."

"Pacifism is a lost cause so long as monsters like Mr. Ghingnham and I are merely the absolute tip of the iceberg."

The smile Dr. Hell returns is perhaps the most evil, delightfully evil, and incredibly cheery attitude Relena would likely have been exposed to; there is no goodness in that man's mad genius, no kindness, no heroism. The world over knows that Dr. Hell's ambition is world domination; that he has no interest in peace unless it is the peace of the grave or the peace of absolute tyranny. This man is a monster, plain and simple.

And the look on his face is clear.

'If I wish to cause trouble, I will do so, and entirely in your own rules, and you can try to stop me, Miss Peacecraft - the game has just begun.'

"Well, Mr. Ghingnham. We seem to have been left to our own devices." Hell's lips peel upwards - how does that smile get bigger, that shouldn't be physically possible - and he taps his gold cane on the floor. "What do you say we find something... entertaining... to do?" The word hangs in the air like a miasma, like a poison cloud; God only knows what *they* consider entertaining.

"By the by, your latest combat was absolutely fascinating. One of these days," Hell observes as Baron Ashura snags whatever snack is present on a tray, "You'll have to allow me to inspect one of those delightful machines of yours."

Macua Huitl is intercepted by Brcoken who she's polite to she gives a nod to him. If he's going to behave she's not going to poke them. She thinks this is the sort of thing Hustler-1 would have fun with sort of tactic. TO be fair he may or may not have tried it on some other party she's been so she has a little experiance.

Dr. Hell nods for a moment, and lets the host odf the poarty do her thing after all.

Ah to be a newtype at an affair like this.

Gym is also noding she figured sdhe's still a small fly. She knows the story of the turns, she knows if Gym wanted this place ash it already would be. She knows far too well from prehaps the only eye witness surivor of that dark day on another world in another time.

But tonight is not the night for such grim things. Relena does gain a good measure of respect however as she confronts the two.

Then something suripises her as Mieya shows up, She paurse turns her head and ther's honestly a smile on her face she's not seen Meiya in a very long time well it feels like forever. She tries to offer her friend a supportful look. But she's going to wait to say anything to her friend untill offical business is done.

How Quatre was talking over the radio was perhaps a miracle, but he had done most of it whilst wandering over to miss Cagalli. A tiny little microphone in one of his top buttons, well hidden. Hey, the wing boys were trained for infiltration. And somewhere in the middle of the whispered conversation, he throws a kind glance at Relena, as if to empower her, then suddenly, in response to something said on the radio...

Quatre jerks his head around. He stares. He stares out of the window, out into the sky, out into /space/. And somewhere, far far away, Duo knows; through the heart of space, Quatre had just given him the most disapproving look that exists in this dimension. And you don't want Quatre to disapprove of you. He... he might start crying! It's disapproving. It's the ultimate guilt-trip. It's... done.

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell brrr.

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell transmits, "Quatre, I /swear t'nonexistant God/."

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell transmits, "/Every time/!"

<Radio: A - Chat> Staren Wiremu transmits, "Oh, you're an atheist too? Or did we already have that discussion..."

<Radio: A - Chat> Quatre Raberba Winner whispers in a confused and innocent fashion, "What is it, Duo?"

<Radio: A - Chat> Macua Huitl transmits, "Staren shut this up again and I'll give you the ability to do an live study on the afterlife!"

<Radio: A - Chat> Duo Maxwell transmits, "We had that discussion."

<Radio: A - Chat> Staren Wiremu transmits, "Okay. Sorry, there is a... wait I remember this guy! He... she... it was at Aidonius!"

"You are more well-known than you may realize, Lady Peacecraft," Gym replies. He's far too accustomed to this sort of thing, and honestly, he doesn't much care for it. But there is protocol and procedure to deal with now and then, so he'll just have to keep it up until they leave. The entertainment of the evening should make up for it, though.

Gym nods, allowing her to greet the other guests. He turns to look past her, eyeing Yuuhi Mitsurugi for a moment, and then turning to look to Meiya. He bows slightly, a wide grin on his face. Eye beam daggers won't do much, but maybe she'll be able to do better. Gym turns away, leaving her to the official part of the evening.

But he pauses for just a moment, eyeing Doctor Hell as he delivers his message. He smiles quietly, and then walks off with him, laughing to himself about... something. Maybe that, maybe something else. "Our own devices indeed. Lets see what sort of things there are to keep us entertained with here, hmmm?"

"I'm pleased you enjoyed it, Doctor," Gym remarks, skillfully plucking something vaguely fanciful and edible off the passing tray. "I'm sure Merrybell would be happy to let you inspect one of our Mahiroos, though you would have to ask Mr. Heller to see the prize of the collection. I'm afraid he's rather possessive of it," he says with a small amount of graveness.

Staren is just trying crackers with what is probably some sort of hideously expensive dip he can't identify when Baron Ashura walks over. Staren wonders if he should say something... when suddenly memory comes back. Staren's mouth gapes and he points at Baron Ashura. "I remember you! You were at Aidoneus Island! You made a giant snake come out of the ground!"

Raidiese has seen pictures of Gym before, and he's fought against Gym before. However, Rai has never seen the man in person, and Gym might notice Rai examining him every carefully. It's the look of one warrior sizing up another. Rai has no plans to start a fight here, but he's never gotten a chance to truly know Gym's face before. Never gotten to actually look into the man's eyes when he speaks and measure his character.

Of course, Rai doesn't expect his attention will go unnoticed. Even if Gym is the type to ignore most people, that doesn't mean he doesn't notice them. "Gym Ghingnham," Rai greets Gym with the polite formality one would expect from the situation, his tone as cool and controlled as possible in the face of a man who could probably rip out his heart without breaking his ribs. "It's good to finally know your face." Rai doesn't bother to actually introduce himself. If Gym is the type to care who Rai is, he'll probably remember him anyway.

The blonde returns his attention to Cagalli, whom he had /just/ greeted. Trying to keep himself from looking back at the people behind him, whom Relena was welcoming. Of course, his ears perk at the mention of money for a short moment. A wealthy kid like him can't help but do so. He simply smiles. It was the response of Relena's that he found so endearing. "Rashid." The man is suddenly standing besides him. "See to it that miss Relena receives a wonderful bouquet and a donation that seems fitting." No amount is mentioned. He just knew that whatever money would be spent, it'd end up in a good place.

And so. Whatever would happen that night. At the end of it, Relena would surely find a bouquet of beautiful flowers in her bedroom along with a cheque from an anonymous admirer with an amount of 1 million dollars... and /04/ cents. After all, he's pilot number 04. It fit. It had nothing to do with outdoing the Mitsurugis.

Either this young lady knows no fear, or she is exceptionally talented at hiding it. Relena stands stiffly in the face of Dr. Hell's veiled and vague threat, something disapproving crossing her expression as his voice lowers to address her and her alone.

She waits for him to deliver his threat before she returns her own quiet response. The only thing she does is shake her head, as though she were pitying Dr. Hell. To be locked into that kind of thinking, it must be a terrible existence. There's nothing more to do with him, though. Relena turns back to face the other guests, just in time to see Staren's outburst towards Baron Ashura.

...It takes a lot of willpower not to sigh and cover her face with her hand... and she is /not/ going to let this evening dissolve into infighting.

Turning toward the band, she signals quietly -- start the music again, and let's have something up-tempo. They oblige, brass leading off in a lively rendition of a famous big band swing number; something that'll hopefully have feet tapping and people dancing.

Relena takes a half-step away from the proceedings, letting her breath out in a quiet sigh. That brush with Dr. Hell was close. She'll have to keep an eye on him, in the future.

In the meantime, the ruler of the Sanc Kingdom turns back for the crowd, ensuring that she circulates and mingles like an impeccable hostess. She finally makes her way towards Cagalli, greeting the Athha princess with a warm smile. "Miss Athha. Welcome to the Sanc Kingdom, and thank you so much for coming. I'm sorry that I couldn't greet you when you arrived."

She pauses, as though choosing her words, before continuing. "I know that we do not know each other particularly well, but our fathers were closely associated. It is my hope that we can continue to work together -- I look forward to working with you and your family."

"The Turn X is like a beautiful woman, Mister Ghingnham - I cannot blame Mister Heller for heaping such love and wonder upon it. It's a weapon of the highest caliber - rather like the Katharons' Wing Zero and such, but certainly a better grade." Hell takes the small food from Brocken's proferred hand and takes a bit, licking his lips thoughtfully. "It could certainly leave a great deal of devestation in its wake, couldn't it?"

"Of course, they *could* just surrender, but when have they ever been *that* wise?"

Hell chuckles, and it's more than likely that some of the NPC Party Guests are starting to get super uncomfortable. Baron Ashura probably doesn't help that; the mummy's even more two-faced than most diplomats. Ashura pauses in front of Staren and quirks an eyebrow on the male side.

"Who are you?" Baron Ashura replies in its male voice, before shifting to the female voice, "Who are you?"

"Are you someone I, Baron Ashura, should know?" The unity in the voices is perhaps even more disconcerting than the swapping between them.

"Ahhh, Mr. Ghingnham," Hell observes, patting the other man on the shoulder. "You seem to have found a friend. Don't let this old man get in the way of you youngsters. Go have a good time." Heh, heh.

There is something amazing that is going on, a battle of wits of sort, of /courage/ that is currently going on. A woman stands for her beliefs. New people even comes in, apparently sparking a sort of donational, bidding war. Sadly for Ted Morrison, he missed most of it as he went to get himself a martini at the bar, from which he returns, just in time to hear from the subtle threat, stepping foward as he takes a brief sip from his drink. That crazy ass split-face creature freaks him on some. Just some. "You do well to stand for what you belive in and not let threats sway you, young lady." Morrison speaks up, setting his drink somewhere safe and tipping his hat at the Peacecraft Monarch. "I believe I have not presented myself -- President Ted Morrison, of the Free World Erehwon. I believe you and I have more in common that I might have imagined."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "You know, Mr. Ghingnham, I've been wondering."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "How old *are* you?"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "You have such a fantastically transient appearance that even with my abilities I can't simply look and tell."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Gym Ghingnham transmits, "Hah! I'll take that as a compliment."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "I suppose it is. Allow me a guess."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "Are you, perhaps, six hundred and sixty six, by a delightful coincidence?"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Gym Ghingnham laughs. "No, I'm afraid not."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "What a pity."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Ascian Luddite curiously cuts in, "Older?"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Gym Ghingnham transmits, "I have been preparing for battle for more than three thousand years."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "Goodness."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "I hope you don't mind if I continue to call you young man. It's something of a habit."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "I'm not exactly used to dealing with people over six times my age."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Gym Ghingnham transmits, "I did not imagine you were, Doctor; think nothing of it."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "May I ask a second, brief question, then...have you ever heard of...'Mykene'?"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Gym Ghingnham transmits, "Hmmm... it sounds familiar, but nothing comes to mind."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Ascian Luddite transmits, "My Kin?"

Woah, the two voice thing _is_ freaky, and Staren takes a step back, eyebrows raised. Staren had forgotten how freaky that was, since he mostly remembers AAH GIANT SNAKE (look he was in a powerarmor when he fought it). And then he remembers that was a TOP SECRET MISSION but then, Ashura was there so he already knows folks were creeping around down there... May as well go ahead. Staren lowers his voice back to normal conversation level. "I am Staren Wiremu, of Katharon." Hmm, something needs to be added to that. Something purposeful.

"And one day, the world will be rid of you and your master." Oh right, PEACE PARTY "--But this isn't the time to discuss that. I'll gladly debate you on broadband any other time." Staren looks at Ashura, then away. Then back at him. "Say, do _you_ have any idea what kind of cracker spread this is?" And then suddenly a bunch of questions trample through his mind and the one that gets out is "How are you a half-boy half-girl??"

When Rashid finally wanders off to fulfil Quatre's request, the young man is for a moment left with Cagalli, only to be joined by Relena, and then also Ted Morrison. He nods his head kindly towards both. "Evenin'." He claims and turns his head for a moment as a waiter comes by.

"A drink, young sir?" The waiter asks, offering a tray of different kind of wines, champagnes and what not. Quatre takes one of the white wines and raises it to his nose. He then swirls the water about a bit and smiles. "Your organizer has good taste, miss Peacecraft. This is quite the fine wine." The blonde remarks and watches as the waiter continues to move around to offer Ted, as well as Relena, a drink as well; waiting at each, and addressing them properly. The man had even picked up Ted's name, so was able to call him by his name and proper title.

Quatre then turns his attention to Ted for a moment. "Ah. I remember. My father once spoke of your planet. He speaks very highly of you, and says that the fate of your planet is much like he wishes for the rest of space." Look there, mister Ted, you have an admirer. He adds, "My father owns a couple of those books... ehhh." He tries to remember. "The Morrison Philosophy?"

One million dollars is probably the lion's share of Mitsurugi Zaibatsu's Good Samaritan budget for the fiscal year, but they get a substantial tax write off for it, so it's not like they are lossing the entire thing.

Yuuhi smiles at Relena. "It's our pleasure." she steps back letting Meiya speak.

Meiya smiles a little sadly. "The Aerogators... took me. This is the least I can do in response to that." she bows and steps back, allowing the queen on her way. She sighs once then scans over the room, her gaze settles on Gym again. He's a smug bastard and she knows it, hes probably here /just/ to be a smug bastard.

So Meiya turns away to look at the rest of the room. Oh look that seems to be Cagalli, she decides to the skip over that introduction due to recent events. She looks at the couple over yonder who seem to be flirting. The man looks ...kind of familiar? Maybe she met him as Er'ela Sufa? ... Fought him most likely. The woman does not seem familiar, because Meiya would remember someone -that- stunning.

"That it is," Gym says with a little bit of a sigh. "I am proud to pilot such a magnificent war machine. It would go to such a waste in the hands of many of the pilots of this world. There are so few true warriors among them; such a... disappointment, sometimes, seeing them go to waste in places like this." He gestures at the party as a whole. Gym smiles as the conversation shifts slightly. "It certainly could! I can turn up it's power output and level cities if I so chose!" he says with something of a laugh in his voice.

"But where's the fun in that?"

Gym glances to Rai, and then nods at Doctor Hell briefly. He looks at the other man for a moment, and then there's a spark of recognition in his eyes. "Raidiese F. Branstein." A nod. "Likewise. I was wondering if you were still running around. Are you still working with the Federation, or are you perhaps looking for a new job? I could use a warrior of your caliber."

"Hmph," Baron Ashura sneers in stereo, "Katharon. You are the reason that this party is necessary at all. If you and yours bowed down to Dr. Hell and his genius, you would have half the bloodshed and suffering you do today! How can you endorse peace this day, when you and yours are terrorists of the highest caliber!"

"It is like spitting on Dr. Hell's image!" The male half says.

"A brazen assault on our lord Dr. Hell!" The female half decries.

"You Katharon are a plague upon the world that should have swept yourselves underfoot long ago rather than peddle your hypocrisy! Dr. Hell may be called the greatest evil on the planet, but it is a title he wears proudly rather than hide behind two-faced lies!"

Baron Ashura breathes in and out, even the *panting* being dual-faced and stereo, before finally replying, "I, Baron Ashura, general of Doctor Hell... have not yet tried the spread."

"But I believe it is garlic."

A waiter wanders past. "Actually. That's the cream cheese. We left it around for guests who brought their younger halfs."

"I, Baron Ashura, admit my defeat," Baron Ashura replies coldly, "But we shall do battle again, nameless waiter!"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> James Heller makes an unhappy noise at the name. "If its something only you are aware of it's got to be something major...."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "I see. Interesting."

The waiter stops and looks at Baron. "Also, please refrain from mixing the tuna with the Caviar. Such a thing is only tried by the most evil of villains." And on he goes, smirking. Everyone knew that tuna and Caviar were an /awful/ combination that should never be tried.

"I LOVE TUNA AND CAVIAR!" Baron Ashura roars, "YOUR INSULTS THIS DAY SHALL NOT GO UNPUNISHED! IN THE NAME OF DR. HELL AND THE DIVINE CRUSADERS, SOMEDAY, I, BARON ASHURA, SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!"

"Sadly, I must decline your offer at this time," Raidiese states with no trace of sarcasm in his voice, though he never takes his eyes off of Gym, much the same way an animal handler would never take their eyes off a poisonous snake. "I only wanted to take the opportunity to look you in the eyes. I don't expect we'll meet face to face very often after this. I have no doubt we'll meet again, though."

Rai doesn't know why he takes Gym's existence so personally, but something about Gym bothers Raidiese. He'll have to talk to Aya about using the SRX against the Turn X, once the SRX's role in the EFA post-Aerogaters is worked out.

But the waiter is gone. And perhaps, never again, shall Baron Ashura meet with that man, who so aptly had disapproved of the Tuna and Caviar combination! Who, oh who, was that /mysterious/ waiter? The world... may never know. No wait, there he is, off in the distance, telling a pair off for dipping chips in the chicken pate.

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> James Heller transmits, "So hows it going with little Miss princess?"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Baron Ashura roars, "THESE FOOLS DO NOT EVEN UNDERSTAND THE SUBLIME BEAUTY OF TUNA AND CAVIAR!"

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Ascian Luddite transmits, "Eww. Tuna and Caviar? What are you? Some kind of barbarian?"

"Thank you, again. Your donation will certainly be much appreciated; Yuuhi, Meiya." Gracefully, Relena inclines her head, sobering at the mention of the Aerogaters. "I understand. In that case, I will be certain to pass on the message -- such a generous donation will be appropriately, I promise you that."

Alone again, Relena composes herself quickly after Dr. Hell's little show. She turns just in time to see Ted Morrison approaching from the direction of the bar. She blinks once or twice, apparently caught off her guard by his sudden and unnoticed approach; she does manage a grateful smile toward him.

"Thank you; but I am not afraid of any threats, least of all those from someone who could not even be here to present them personally." Relena inclines her head, perhaps in acknowledgement of Ted's greeting. "A pleasure to meet you, President Morrison. I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the Free World Erehwon, but it sounds like a lovely place. I'm glad to hear that there are more like-minded indivisuals in such positions. My father would have been pleased."

A man she never knew, truth be told; she's still trying to reconcile herself as a daughter of the Darlians /and/ a daughter to the Peacecrafts... but in this situation, it's the right thing to say.

All eyes are upon her, and all ears are upon the words she speaks. She would do well to be particularly aware of what she does and says, tonight.

If the Sanc Kingdom is to gain any kind of reputation at all, she wants it to be that of a pacifistic kingdom, yes -- but also a professional one. This is not just some backwater country of layabouts.

Near Quatre, Relena nods again to Quatre. That's the one that had knelt to her; the son of the Winner family. Hm. "Yes, my staff thought those would be excellent choices. Several of them were vinted here in the Sanc Kingdom, as well. If I'm not mistaken."

She herself chooses little more than a glass of sparkling water, sipping demurely at it. She wants to keep a clear head, tonigh--

For the briefest instant, annoyance crosses the sovereign's young face; Relena then forces her features to smooth again. "Pardon me a moment," she murmurs, to her present company, turning and stalking quickly towards the periphery of the room.

Quick words are exchanged with the nearby security detail; the man in the blue suit then quietly makes his way to Baron Ashura. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voice down, or you'll be asked to leave," he states, discreetly.

Relena then takes the opportunity to slip back to Ted, Quatre, and the others nearby. She takes a brief sip of her water, eyes drifting towards Baron Ashura. "...I do apologise for that." /Some/ guests can't seem to handle themselves peaceably.

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "Baron Ashura is a mummy."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "Baron Ashura is a mummy."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "Two halves of two different mummies, in fact."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Ascian Luddite transmits, "That would explain that then."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "A Mykenese priestess and her husband."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Dr. Hell transmits, "Each rotted down the middle through some mysterious means, brought back to life by my hand."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> Ascian Luddite transmits, "And that would explain you bringing up the Mykene."

<Radio: B - DC Tactical> James Heller transmits, "Hey non human biology man. Likely tastes amazing to them."

Macua Huitl will remain calm and just mentally tunes out Staren least she cause an incident which involved her fist punching the mental out of him. She chokes that one back as she attempts to listen to as people talk. She will be good and she looks to Dr. Hell for a moment she thinks on something for a moment.

She's now drifting a little bit she'll speak to Relena later. She turns her attention to Quatre and she also looks at the young middle eastern prince. "Good to see you again, It's been a while I hope your people faired all right during the Balmarian siege." The memories that she'd been far too good of a field commander in the alien ranks was something sthat disturbed her really a lot. She looks to Ted but realises he's on offical business at the the moment. She does give the odd couple a look, one she's sure she knows the others, damn who is she?

One question remains unanswered! But Staren cannot back down from what has been said. Although the theatrics do give him pause. He might have it in him, somewhere, to stand on the same footing... But the last time he shouted I'LL SHOW YOU ALL! It didn't go very well.

"Of course there would be less bloodshed, if we were united under Dr. Hell. There would be less bloodshed if we had all joined with the Devil Gundam, or the Zondarians, or the Balmarians! If we literally sought _only_ peace... We may as well kill everyone, for there will only be an absense of conflict when there is an absence of people to disagree!" His voice is kind of rising now though not to filling-the-room levels. Staren eyes the security guard and quiets back down.

"The peace provided by Dr. Hell is not one we will accept. We also fight for freedom, and justice! Do you really believe that we... or the Federation, or the Divine Crusaders... are fighting merely for the sake of fighting? Even Mr. Ghingnham fights because he believes that fighting will make humanity better! Tell me... Knowing this, do you really think we could accept life under Dr. Hell's rule? And making us accept it with mind-control devices doesn't count."

Baron Ashura makes a gesture at Staren. "Your debate is meaningless to Baron Ashura - you want your own peace and your own justice. You are children blinded by the path you have stepped upon, and that will be your own ruin."

"Ashura." Dr. Hell's voice is cold, but firm and commanding, and Ashura instantly drops the entire conversation with Staren in favor of kneeling before Dr. Hell in a heartbeat.

"Dr. Hell-sama! What is it that you require of I, Baron Ashura, your most loyal servant?"

"Go and wait in the Ghoul," Dr. Hell observes calmly, "We do not wish to disturb their party with something as important as the truth, do we?"

Ashura looks like it's been struck, but lowers its head. "I... I understand, my lord Dr. Hell. Excuse me." And without so much as a glance, Ashura leaves the building.

Brocken snickers behind his hand.

Ted Morrison is used on meeting people that knows /of/ him, back home anyway. Quite rare that a native to the Earth Sphere actualy brings it up on his own volition. Oh god, he thinks, it's spreading. A slight bit of panic lifts in Morrison's mind. He squashes it. He's quite expert at keeping a political face. "Has he? I am quite glad to hear that others shares my view of planetary independance, good sir, which is quite a rare one when your world is surrounded by various warring states. I am afraid I did not hear your name, however, I apologise." Then, his initial presentation to the host of the Gala pays off, as Relena returns her attention to her -- and in return, his attention to her as well. He can tell he surprised her. He does that. 'Not seeing him coming' is one of the main things that kept Morrison alive all these years, even if he was in plain sight just a few seconds before hand. "As you should be, as you should be, it's your duty to not falter before that kind of discource." Morrison says, taking back his martini, bowing his head at the princess. "It is one of the many moons orbiting around Lucifer, Princess, independant from any of the Successor States. I do not wish to brag, but it is quite a nice place indeed." Then, she wanders off, going to yell at Baron Ashura. Man, he thinks, he wants THAT waiter in his staff. Anybody who has the galls to tell this stuff to some man/woman freak thingie thing deserves a raise.

Childish... well, Staren didn't really think he'd get anywhere. If it were that easy, the world would be much more to princess Peacecraft's liking. The young boy frowns at Dr. Hell, before sampling some of the other refreshments. Mm, garlic spread _would_ be good...

It only takes a moment for Relena to exchange a few quiet words with her security detail, and it takes less than that for her to return to the group she had just been greeting. Just enough time to finish up her business with them and continue moving.

Attending or hosting an event like this necessitates shark-like behaviour. You might not necessarily /die/ if you stop moving, but it doesn't look good for you if you park in one place all night...

"Thank you, President Morrison. I will certainly keep that in mind, though I have no intention of backing down. Yes, I am a pacifist, but that doesn't mean that either I or my people are cowards." She nods to him. "As for Free World Erehwon, I should like to pay it a visit some time. It sounds like a lovely place. However, I have other guests to see. If you'll excuse me...?"

Giving little time for a protest, Relena extricates herself from the group, returning to the room at large. A quiet signal to the band brings them to slow the music down a little, introducing a few slow dance numbers. She'll have to remember who had suggested hiring these performers; they're quite good.

Where she stops, nobody knows! But if someone else were to want to exchange words with her, they would likely not find it hard to stop her. Ah, mingling. Such is the duty of a good hostess!

"The name is Quatre Raberba Winner. Of the Winner family - at L4." Quatre replies, nodding towards Ted. "I admit, I know only what I've been told, which isn't much. But it is enough to recognize your name, and the general knowledge that your planet is now a peaceful one." He shares, smiling gladly. "I should come visit sometime. See if I can find out more about your history and learn better how to guide the people here to a better future." That's a lot of weight to put on a kid's shoulders. But then, there are actually a lot of kids with a lot of shoulder that want the same thing. So he's good.

The youth then turns towards Relena, raising the wineglass a bit, taking a sip, and giving a joyful sound. "I must find out where this is. I may want to purchase some of your Kingdom's wines." Always a good opportunity to start some economic trade, right? He halts himself from continueing to speak however when she leaves, after he himself had winced at the sudden shouting in the back.

So, during that small downtime, he realizes that Macua had approach the small group and was suddenly talking to him. He recognized the voice, and when he does indeed turn about to face her, a smile grows on Quatre's face. "Ahh! Miss Macua. We meet at a party yet again!" But then, that last party had been his... so... that didn't really count. "Ah, yes. Me and the Maganac are doing quite well in fact. We layed low for most of the Balmarian incident. They didn't seem to be very interested in the sands much. Although I did get to fight them once." He blinks for a moment. Remembering something. "Now that you speak of it. Why do I suddenly feel like we met during that encounter?" He blinks a few times, frowning, then shakes his head. Naaah. He shakes his head. "I am glad to see you are doing well." He holds out a hand to draw her closer. Tssk. The playboy.

When Relena then gets back he catches on that Relena too plans to have a visit. "We should go together, one day then." He offers. "I too, have plans to visit President Morrison's planet." And off she is again. So he turns towards Macua. And, as the music slows down, he takes a few steps back, offering miss Macua to the dancefloor. Hey. There was music. Time for dancin'! Now let's just hope that Dr. Hell would not try to cut in and dance with him.

Staren reflects as he samples... chunks of _something_ on a kebab. Probably exotic meat and plants of some sort -- for all Staren knows, it could be the ingredients for beef stew, in kebab form. As he thinks, he sees the princess out on the open floor, and realizes in the aftermath of his short debate with Dr. Hell, that he does have something to say.

Staren walks around the snack table, not thinking too much about how he should probably be like a bajillion times more polite than he actually knows how to be... Hey, he's talked to Cagalli, and she's a princess... "Um... Princess Relena... Thank you. We fight to create a future where all the world can live in peace... Whether we are right or wrong in our methods, it's good that there is a place like the Sanc Kingdom where people can come to live that way now, even in this time of war." He bows slightly, and gets ready to move away, not wanting to ...embarass himself trying to keep up the appropriate level of polite conversation unless she really wishes to talk to him further.

"A pity," Gym replies with a trace of disappointment present in his tone. The poisonous snake watches the would-be handler just as keenly; it's a sort of sizing up that both of them are doing. It looks like the poisonous snake has decided to slither off, though. "I'm sure we will. Next time, bring along your friends; I'm itching for a good fight."

Gym moves to get himself something to munch on, and maybe intimidate some minor dignitaries. He's got all evening ahead of him.

As luck would have it, Relena is just finishing her business with a cluster of minor dignitaries when Staren approaches her.

She turns, idly smoothing down her dress as he approaches her, reserving a smile for the youth... though that's something of a misnomer, considering he's not terribly far from her own age. Perhaps she doesn't notice. She's had to grow up particularly fast, all told.

"Thank you. It's through the support of people like you that we can continue to reach for these dreams." Relena shakes her head, faintly, earrings clinking softly. "But, please... you can just call me 'Relena.' I'm afraid I haven't met you, yet, though I do recognise your voice. To whom do I owe this pleasure...?"

Oh good lord, Ted Morrison mutters to himself mentaly, what have he /done/. Now these two young people are going to come to Erehwon, sometimes in the future. The poor kids. What have he /done/? "Of course, of course, Princess. Thanks you for your time." Morrison replies to the host of the Gala, tipping his hat at her with a brief bow. "Erehwon will provide you with some grand sights, for both of you, let me assure you. Merly warn me in advance when you wish to come visit." And hopefully, the Draccies, or the Clans wont attack, or his wife wont be in a terrible neck-ripping, spitting-down-the-stump and set it on fire mood then.

Then again, Ted muses, when she's /not/?

Staren is visibly surprised at her words -- He thought she would hold a dim view of all who would resort to fighting. "I... thanks." Wait, does that mean she recognizes that there is _some_ need to fight for peace? ...Eh, best not to push it. He'll just answer the question. "Staren Wiremu, from the Orb Union Islands... I pilot for Katharon. Pleased to make your acquaintance." He starts to hold forth a hand to shake, then hesitates. Is that too informal? He usually talks to princesses when they are in the cockpit of a mobile suit or onboard a battleship. Where's the social manual for parties?

"I see." Relena inclines her head, faintly. "A pleasure to meet you, Staren."

She smiles a little at his hesitation, reaching out to shake his hand. Royalty she may be, but she's also down to earth. Truth be told, she's still new to this whole 'royalty' thing.

...Staren will not, however, find this one in the cockpit of a mobile suit or aboard a battleship; not unless she's there to give a speech or something aboard the battleship. Which probably isn't like to happen, ever, given this one's very public stances towards warfare.

"I can't whole-heartedly approve of warfare, but I consider acceptance of this kingdom's policies a step in the right direction." Her faint smile is almost apologetic. "In any case, I suppose I should be off. I still have many guests I must see to. More arrived than I had accounted for -- though I'm quite pleased at the show of support and the generosity of everyone who's attended. Thank you, Staren."

With that, provided Staren doesn't move or speak to halt her, Relena will return to her mingling. Such is the fate of the lonely hostess, for the rest of the evening -- always moving, always circulating; never hesitating in the same place or among the same company for very long.

Staren just gives a nod of acknowledgement and watches Relena go... then it's back to the snack table. He drove a long way and dressed up, he should get a good meal out of this!

Relena pauses as she hears somebody approaching from behind, turning just far enough to see Macua from the corner of an eye. By the time she turns far enough to face her fully, she's handed an envelope and the other has already vanished back into the crowd.

That leaves Relena, staring down at the envelope in her hands, somewhat bemused. Who was that...?

Carefully sliding open the envelope with a thumb, Relena withdraws the paper inside, and blinks at the writing on the check.

"...Oh, my."

Sliding it back inside, she retreats to the far side of the room, passing the donation off to a staff member, where it will be added to the other donations for processing in the morning. Good heavens, that's a lot of money, from everybody who chose to donate. She couldn't have asked for more.

Relena's path then takes her to the podium where the band plays, where she quietly signals for them to slow and halt. She accepts the microphone from the band leader, clearing her throat demurely.

"Honoured guests. I would like to thank all of you for attending, and to thank all of you for your donations. This money will go toward the betterment of those who have suffered from the senseless warfare that ravages both Earth and Space." Her eyes linger on the crowd, making eye contact with everybody who should happen to be watching. "Such generosity will change their lives for the better, and on their behalf, I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"Furthermore, I am pleased to know that there are still those with a shared vision of a peaceful world. Together, my friends, we will see this dream become a reality." Relena smiles a dazzling, charismatic smile. "In this I am confident. Thank you, my friends. Please enjoy yourselves for the rest of the evening, and stay in the Sanc Kingdom for as long as you like."

With that, the young sovereign relinquishes the microphone, going back to her discreet mingling amongst the room's crowds -- presumably, what she'll be doing for the rest of the evening. It's a wonderful gathering, and she's very pleased at the turnout and the touching donations given in charity's name...

...but it'll feel great to get off her feet when this night's over with.

Macua Huitl had wanted to to slip Relena what she' wanted to ive her and she quickly will catch back up with Q now. "I apologise about that, there was some somewhat offical business I had to finish up with the Princess." Yes Mac might as well be raised in a barn, but at least she's trying. She really is trying and hopefully no too huge incidents if anythin the arival of Hell and friends made things more interesting for the reporters and ditracted them off her but now she's off to dance. "Well shall we?"