Hannabel

Hadarak Fel explained what he could, though it was clear he wasn't exactly an expert on the functioning of Xenos technology. What he was an expert at was being a foppish show-off, and he gladly brought out some of the picts when they had a moment away from the dance floor, letting Hannabel flip through a few of them while he talked. Hannabel's tactic of allowing him to talk up his own heroism was clearly a good one, and by the time another prospective dance partner had shown up to request his attention, he was promising to share more stories later and to have copies of some of the picts made for her.

With Calligos, on the other hand, her joke fell a little flat. Winterscale smiled only thinly, and made some dismissive remark about how other people ought to be more careful with their words, as wagging tongues were liable to be cut off. It was but a glimpse at the famous Winterscale temper, but it rather chilled the rest of the dance. It didn't seem like she'd left a lasting negative impression, but it was, perhaps, a little less than she might have hoped for.

With Igraine, she got on like a hab block on fire. Igraine told the story of how her mother had escaped her own arranged marriage, and any such event she was involved in was more likely to be agreed upon than not. It was unconvential, but Aoife was a free spirit in a matrilineal house, and she'd passed along much of her independant streak. Igraine confided in Hannabel that she thought Macharius was likeable, and had managed to shift her mother's opinion with his first impression, which was somewhat difficult to do.

Auction Day

Heading over to the auction hall, they found that things had been moved around in preparation, and several rooms given over to the auction. There was a reception area with tables, and waiters circulating with drinks, and copies of the list of auction lots. Several parties were already present, including Jonquin Saul - Macharius was not the only early riser amongst the gathered Traders. The Trade-Admiral smiled and nodded a greeting when he spotted them, before resuming his conversation.

The other two rooms were the auction hall itself, which had been filled with chairs, and a podium placed at the front for the auctioneer. Beside this was a table to display the active lot, which would be carried in from the other room, where each - when viable - was stored until needed. This room was also open to the guests, so they could inspect the items beforehand if desired. The Monk was here, jotting down notes in a little book as he wandered amongst the tables. This was the most heavily guarded of the three rooms, Winterscale's house guards hovering menacingly in alcoves. It was unlikely that anyone might attempt theft, but Felidae noted they were also close enough to respond rapidly to any sort of commotion in the auction hall.

A third, less-welcome presence was announced by the sight of Tristan Quinn's enormous feathered hat shoving its way forwards through a crowd of retainers. Quinn marched up to Macharius and stared him in the eye, both feet planted firmly.

"Absalom. I couldn't help but overhear you at the dance last night. And the hunt. I bet you think you're clever."